"The Walking Weapon"
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dochermes"The Walking Weapon"
A Trom Girl Mystery
10/28-10/29/2006
I.
Megan Salenger dimly realized she was trying to turn over. Everything hurt and it was freezing. For the longest time, she struggled to sit up and finally remembered her Tel Shai training. Breathe in deeply and slowly, hold it a beat, then exhale the same way. The healing factor which five years on a tagra diet had given her started to kick in as well. Suddenly her head cleared. She had taken an awful beating.
At twenty-six, the Trom Girl was in highly toned shape, better conditioned than most professional athletes. Being only three inches over five feet tall and not much over a hundred pounds was still sometimes a disadvantage, though. She forced herself up into a kneeling position. Her ribs and chest ached when she breathed and her right eye seemed swollen shut. Her nose felt stuffed. When she gingerly touched it, she found it was closed with dried blood. Under the mop of thick black hair was a sore lump on the right side of her head. Now she remembered everything.
It was just before dawn on a chilly morning. She had been lying in someone's back yard, near an old and dying apple tree. The ground was damp. Megan took more deep breaths, looked up to see the back of a two story house with tan aluminum siding. There seemed to be just woods on all sides, but then she couldn't see the road or her Jeep from this angle. How long had she been lying there?
Archie! The Trom Girl got to her feet and swayed, then started walking toward the house. It got easier as her muscles warmed up and the healing factor rapidly started repairs in her body. Under her faded jeans and flannel shirt, she was wearing the silk-thin flexible armor which dispersed impact over its entire surface. It was great protection but nothing was perfect. Her opponent had been overwhelming. She found Archie sitting up with his back propped against the wall of the house, near the heating oil tank with its pipe that led down to the cellar.
,lj-cut text="the rest of the story">To her great relief, he was conscious and aware. Archie McCallister was a big bear of a man, with a week's worth of beard and gentle blue eyes in a face that was now swollen. "Oh. Good to see you, Meg," he mumbled. "I was trying to stand up."
The Trom Girl knelt down next to her partner and examined his bruised mouth. "Archie, do you feel nausea? Is there a ringing in your ears?" Taking a pencil flashlight, she examined his pupils to see how they reacted.
"Naw, I'll be okay. That guy sure tagged me, though. I didn't even see him move and I was looking right at him. What about you, hon?"
"I will be fine in a few more minutes. You seem coherent. What day of the week is it?"
"Ummm, it's morning," Archie said. "Must be Sunday, right? Megan, who the hell was that guy?"
The Trom Girl sank down to sit next to him, leaning up against his solid reassuring bulk. "A martial artist of some kind. More than Human. A Snake man, maybe, or a Melgar. I could not defend myself against him."
"He was fast all right," Archie grumbled. "Man. Well, at least we're still among the living. I have a sinking feeling about the chances for the guy in this house, though."
"Bonner? Yes. I doubt if he is alive, but we have to check." She pressed back against the wall behind her and got to her feet again. "You stay put a few more minutes, my love. I'll be right back."
"I'll be okay in a second," he protested. "Here, let me go with you."
Megan did not argue. She pulled on his arm as he grabbed the oil tank and rose. Archie groaned, then straightened up. "Wow. I was in some bar fights when I was younger, but I never got hit like that. Nothing's broken, though. You look like hell."
"I'm recovering quickly," she said. "That's the tagra tea. My eye has already opened. For a Trom, pain is just a signal from the body." She went with him up a walk made of flat stones placed on the hill to the front of the house. Here was a small patio with two redwood chairs and a mountain bike that was leaning against the house. The front door stood open.
Megan stuck her head in and took a long look. Archie knew she was taking in hundreds of details in that single gaze and would be able to describe the scene in excrutiating detail years later. Placing one foot inside the doorway, she crouched and flexed the man's fingers slightly. "Rigor mortis has begun to set in. I judge he died three to four hours ago. No obvious cause of death is visible."
"It's funny how beat up we are but we're still alive."
"Yes. Leaving someone unconscious without killing him requires more skill than simply inflicting fatal injuries. Our enemy chose to spare us, for some reason." She stood fully erect and took a deep breath. "Ow."
"Time to call the police, I suppose."
"Not from here," she said. "No one knew we were present except for Bonner. He didn't tell anyone. We had only arrived and gone down into his back yard a minute before we were attacked." Megan had unclipped her Link from its holster and was taking readings on Archie. The small device hummed and clicked, but she seemed reassured by the figures on its tiny screen. "Your vitals are within your usual range."
By then, Archie had gotten a better look at her. "You've got a bloody nose, hon."
"It has stopped. I will clean up on the way. Let's get going." She walked around the house to where her red Jeep Wrangler sat next to Bonner's Volkswagen Passat. Neither vehicle seemed to have been touched. The green and blue lights of the security system she had devised blinked steadily behind the driver's sunvisor of her Jeep. Still moving a bit carefully, she climbed up behind the wheel and Archie got into the passenger's seat after a slight struggle.
"The nearest house was more than a mile away. Let's go while most people are still asleep so no one sees us." Megan swung the Jeep around and headed down the country road at a leisurely speed. After a minute, she said, "There should be some baby wipes in your door pocket, Archie."
He opened the packet and handed her a few of the wipes. While driving, she began dabbing at her face to get the dried blood off. "I have to admit... despite what Trom doctrine says, sometimes pain is difficult to just ignore. How are you feeling?"
"Getting better. Gonna be a sweet bruise around my mouth, though. What's your plan for the guy who decked us?"
Speeding up a little as they neared the highway, the Trom Girl hesitated almost imperceptibly. "I have not decided yet, Archie. I need more data to work with. Obviously, we should not simply confront him directly again."
Even though it hurt to do so, Archie laughed. "I'm not a genius raised by the Trom and even I could figure that out. You get run over by a Mack truck, you don't stand there when it comes around again."
II.
A little over half an hour later, they were back at the cottage they had rented for the week outside the town of Whispell, where the border between Pennsylvania and New York State was only twenty miles away. This was the last in a row of four identical cottages, overseen by the landlord's regular mansion higher up on the hill. As they stepped down from the Jeep, Megan seemed to be back to normal while Archie was still sore and stiff.
"I wish I could share the tagra tea with you," she said, watching him sadly. "But it would mean expulsion from Tel Shai and keeping membership there is my duty."
The big mechanic swung his arms and rubbed his right shoulder as he followed her through the front door. "It would be great to heal the way you do, that's for sure."
The interior was meant to be charming in an Early American way, with exposed log rafters and wood paneling everywhere. Even the furniture seemed to be handmade. "I want you to take a hot shower, Archie," the Trom Girl said. "I don't think you have anything worse than bruising but I wish to keep an eye on you."
"Okay, hon. What about you?"
"I need to clean up a little. I will use the hot water in the kitchen sink." She yanked off the oversized flannel shirt to reveal a dark red T-shirt beneath. As the sound of the shower hissed from the bathroom, she washed the dried blood out of her nose and off her face. A clot slid out of one nostril and she washed it down the drain with distaste. There was a yellowish bruise on the left side of her face, but the swelling there had already subsided.
Going to get a bottle of water from the refrigerator, the Trom Girl lowered herself to the couch that sat in the early morning light through a wide picture window. She had decided their attacker had not been a Snake man. They rarely let anyone live who saw them in action. Nor did he seem to be a Melgar, who were stronger and faster than Human but whose fighting skills were always blunt and direct. Their assailant had shown skill. A Gelydra from Ulgor was in the same physical class as the Melgarin but they had a distinctive look to them with the stiff bristly hair and flat pug faces.
Their enemy seemed to be a Human fighter, she concluded by elimination. One with skills and control equal to a Kumundu master. While Archie came out of the bathroom and dug through his knapsack for a change of socks and underwear, Megan mentally ran through all the foes the KDF had encountered in its almost thirty years history.
Dropping down next to her, Archie sighed. "That's better. Now I just feel like I was on a binge drinking weekend. What's on your amazing multiple-level super-genius brain, kid?"
"I have tentatively identified the identity of our opponent," she said. "Seven years ago, our captain fought with two members of the House of Furious Buddha. You've seen Jeremy in action. He's at the upper level of Human ability, but he was evenly matched against the Furious Buddha disciple."
"Gotcha. Tell me more."
"The lore says that long ago, a student of Tel Shai was expelled for lack of character but took some knowledge of Kumundu with him. Over the centuries, the House he founded has expanded on that knowledge. They also are reported to use the Alchemical drug Velocitin." She took a sip of the water, offered him some and then went on. "Jeremy fought those two Furious Buddha warriors before I began my mission in the world, but I have read his notes on the clash."
"When your Dire Wolf starts fighting, I can't even follow what he's doing," Archie said. "It looks like trick photography or something. If he said he met his equals, I'd treat them with some caution."
"Yes," she said simply.
"Ah, well. What about calling in your teammate Argent? He's the martial arts expert on your crew."
Megan Salenger took a second to reply. "Yes. Sheng has spent much more time practicing Kumundu than I have. It's his specialty. But I do not want to request his assistance just because I have run into someone formidable."
"Wait, is this just pride?" Archie asked. "Are you going to carry on by yourself because you don't want to admit you could use help?"
With an uncharacteristic chuckle, the Trom Girl leaned over up against him. "I guess it is. I believe I should be able to handle any mission myself. With you, of course."
"Right. Well, I'll do what I can but honestly any real black belt could mop the floor with me." He got to his feet and stretched, seeming to be loosening up. "It's almost eight. How about some scrambled eggs?"
"Oh, I would love that. I didn't realize how hungry I am. Some whole wheat toast as well, if you don't mind." Megan remained leaning forward on the couch, hands clasped in front of her. "The more I recall about Furious Buddha, the more seriously I see I must take their threat. They are called Wai-Y'ien, the 'Weapon That Walks.'"
Inspecting the interior of the refrigerator, Archie said, "There's Cheddar cheese in here, how do you feel about ripping some of it up and putting it in the eggs?"
"Whatever you say," she replied absently. "The Furious Buddha school basically brainwashes its assassins. As I understand it, the teacher kidnaps a young man or woman and uses an Alchemical serum that makes them appear dead. They remain in this state for a few days until their memories fade and their minds change drastically. When they are revived, the victims are mentally almost blank slates which the teacher begins to train."
"Goddam, that's creepy," Archie said. The clatter of the frying pan and the sliding of drawers sounded from where he stood in the kitchenette. "Sort of being buried alive, what a nightmare."
"It is called the Death In Life." The Trom Girl had that faraway expression that Archie recognized as showing her brain was running through parallel trains of thought. "I believe the killing of Donner is related to the other case we have been asked to investigate."
"What, the missing guy? Podiolka?"
"Yes. This all started when we were asked to find some trace of Stanley Podiolka. His family has not heard about him since he disappeared from college five years ago." Megan rose and went over to help Archie, getting some plates down from a cabinet and opening the loaf of bread. "I think there is a connection."
"You know," Archie said. "I don't think you've mentioned why this guy's disappearance is in your special area of weird crimes. What makes it a 'Trom Girl Mystery?'"
Megan brought the toast over, two slices for each of them. She had also made a mug of instant coffee in the microwave for Archie. He didn't like instant but it was better than nothing. As she pulled a chair under her, the Trom Girl blinked at the size of the pyramid of steaming yellow fluff on her plate. "Archie. How many eggs did you use for this?!"
"I don't see the point of leaving one or two in the package," he said. "They'll just sit there." He added salt and pepper and began shoveling his serving down.
"Very well." Megan began to eat too, chewing thoroughly and sipping water between bites as she had been taught. "As for your question, Podiolka had just been discharged from the Marines and begun taking classes at Stony Point College. The night he was last seen, a security guard was murdered. The man's gun had been taken away from him and his heart ruptured by a single finger poke to the chest. Security footage showed an Asian man doing this, an elderly man no more than five feet tall and apparently eighty years old."
"Yikes. So this geezer kidnapped Podiolka and brainwashed him to become a 'weapon who walks?'"
"That's my conclusion," Megan said. She seemed a little alarmed at how quickly she had plowed through the heap of scrambled eggs and now nibbled on a piece of toast thoughtfully. "I have a tentative plan for dealing with this Walking Weapon."
"Hah!" snorted her partner. "When DON'T you have a plan? With a Plan B and several contingency plans as well."
III.
The motel was rundown and uninviting, but it had an advantage that its denizens were preoccupied with drug deals and prostitution. No one paid attention to the two men who rented Room 11. Su Sze Kyu was sitting in the full lotus, back straight and head held erect. Despite the fact that he seemed to be in his eighties, he was not bent. The bony face was wrinkled but the dark deepset eyes were alert and active. The Master of the Furious Buddha had only a few wisps of thin white hair on his head, his skin was dry and dark amber in color. Wrapped snugly around him was a white silk robe drawn in at the waist with a red sash.
The Master watched his student in silence. Podiolka was kneeling on the mat before him, face expressionless and eyes veiled. The student was a tall man with light blond hair in a crewcut and blue eyes that gave nothing away. Podiolka looked trim and athletic, like someone who played tennis or swam frequently, but he was not conspicuously muscular.
From the rooms next door came mindless repetitive music with a heavy bass thump. They ignored it. Su Sze Kyu regarded his student and regretfully concluded that it would be at least another year before Podiolka reached his peak. Not that the disciple was not sincere or that he did not train hard. He was just not as quick to achieve higher skill as some of the other students the Master had taught over the decades. Still, right now, he would send Podiolka against any but three or four living Humans with confidence.
"Why did you let the two white people live?" asked the Master in a calm voice. There was not much trace of Tibet in his voice after a lifetime traveling the world. "They plan to expose us to the world."
Podiolka bowed his head before answering. "Plucking them would mean three mysterious deaths instead of one. The police would be that much more curious. They were acting as guards, I thought letting them survive meant they would flee so as not be blamed."
Raising a finger with a long sharpened nail on its tip, Su Sze Ku reproved his disciple. "I recognize your description of the woman. She is a Tel Shai knight and a member of the Kenneth Dred Foundation. We avoid them when possible... tigers pass each other in the night without clashing."
"I have made an error, then," Podiolka said sadly.
"Yes. But you did not know who it was standing in your path. I do not recognize the man from your description. He is likely just her servant and of no importance. That woman, though, might be a danger even to us. She is a Human raised by the Trom and she has studied Kumundu under the cursed Chael at Tel Shai."
Podiolka watched his Master meekly. "Will you then come with me when the next flower is plucked?"
"Against nearly any opponent, I would not think my presence is necessary," Syu Sze Ku answered. "You have taken in Furious Buddha well. I would send you against most targets without doubts. You are truly Wai-Y'ien, the Walking Weapon."
The blond man bowed again, this time lowering his head almost to the wood floor before straightening up again.
"But we are dealing with someone who combines Trom and Tel Shai," the Master continued. "So be it. I will be nearby when you strike. Against both of us, nothing that stands on two legs may survive."
IV.
As soon as they were finished with breakfast, Megan stood up and leaned on the back of her chair. "I'm sorry, hon, but I think I need a nap. It's been a long time since I took such physical damage."
"Oh, I'm right there with you," he said. "Sounds like a plan." Putting the dishes and forks in the sink for the moment, he sat down on the king size bed and yanked his beat-up work shoes off. They stretched out on top of the covers, Megan curled up next to him and mumbled something, then was asleep instantly. Surprising himself, Archie drifted off in a few seconds himself.
Almost four hours later, they both stirred. Megan gave him a peck on the cheek and went into the bathroom to shower and change clothes. She emerged wearing white jeans, a black polo shirt and her favorite oversized red flannel shirt. Underneath the clothing, of course, she was wearing the Trom armor. Barefoot, she hopped back up on the bed. "Hey, you!" she chirped.
"You look great," Archie told her. "Not a trace of being beat up last night. It's amazing." He got off the bed a little carefully and went into the bathroom. When he returned, tucking his shirt in, he said, "No blood in my urine. That's good. I got hit in a dozen different spots at the same time."
The Trom Girl took the Link off her belt and adjusted some dials, studied the screen, and fiddled some more. "As far as I can tell, you have not sustained serious damage, Archie. You will be visibly bruised for a few days of course. Is your vision blurred at all? Do you have difficulty swallowing?"
"Nope."
"That is encouraging." She jumped up off the bed, dug out some socks from her suitcase and tugged them on. "We need to protect Bonner's associate who was also worried about being targeted for assassination. He intended to hire a bodyguard but, to be honest, I have no faith in a bodyguard being much protection against Furious Buddha." She dug through her wallet and handed him a small green card.
"What's up?"
"This is my ATM card," she answered. "I want you to go into Whispell and purchase a printer. A small amount of paper and full color ink will be sufficient."
"Well... sure. Not a problem. We'll tackle deadly assassins with handbills." He grabbed his denim jacket as he headed for the door. "I've learned that you explain things sooner or later."
Megan seemed not to have heard him. "I will be doing some research," she said as if to herself as she lowered herself to the couch and began tapping keys on her Link. "Please hurry back, Archie, but drive carefully."
Opening the door, the big man grinned to himself. Looking back, he affectionately watched the tousled black hair and intent dark eyes as she concentrated. Megan still gave off mixed signals so often he was getting able to read them.
IV.
By late afternoon, Archie had returned with the printer and supplies. He had also brought a double cheese pepperoni pizza which they devoured. Most of the time, Megan stuck to the strictly planned diet she had been raised on by the Trom council, but she allowed herself lapses when on an assignment. Archie had secretly figured this was one reason why she enjoyed going on these 'Trom Girl Mysteries' so much. Often, once a case was cleared up, she liked to linger in the area another day to enjoy Archie's company and, as he saw it, play hooky from her discipline.
Using her Link for its Internet connection, Megan had obtained a few photos from sources that should have been secure. She had no qualms about using advanced Trom technology to get through firewalls without being detecting. She sent a signal to the printer and produced two copies each of five photos. When this was done, she divided the copies up in two manila folders which she placed on the dresser.
"This has been a productive afternoon," she announced. "I think we have a way to deal with these Furious Buddhas if force can be avoided."
"What a goofy name," snorted Archie. He was rubbing his right shoulder tenderly. "Why 'Furious Buddha?'"
"Their claim is that the founder of their House was inspired by a vision of the Lord Buddha in an enraged state. You are still sore, Archie."
"Aw, I'm okay," he protested but she brought him over to the king-size bed and told him to disrobe and lie face on it. Megan warmed up some baby oil and rubbed it over her hands. Starting at his neck, she began a deep tissue massage. She proceeded slowly. Megan's hands were exceptionally strong and she had a knowledge of human muscle groups that would match that of most licensed therapists.
"Oh, you have knots," she muttered. "If that man had struck you a little harder, he would have done permanent damage." By the time she had worked her way down to his feet, Archie had relaxed enough that his breathing was deep and slow. "Your calves are all tense," she said as she probed and stroked his lower legs. The massage went on for over forty minutes until she was satisfied he was not seriously injured.
When she was up probing his lower back again, Megan slid her hand gently under his body. "Say, what's this?" she whispered in mock surprise. "Just what are you thinking about, mister?" Standing up, she unbuckled her belt and began wriggling out of her jeans. "I feel you should turn over on your back now..."
It was almost dark outside before they were both fully dressed again and heading out the door. Megan held the flat metal oblong of the beam projector, her primary weapon, and clicked a cartridge into its slot.
"Using the nerve ray or the concussion?" Archie asked, waiting by the door.
"The neural disruption effect. I am setting it higher than usual." She clipped the tool to her belt, where the oversized flannel shirt concealed it. The Trom Girl went over to the dresser and fetched both manila folders. "Perhaps I would be justified in using a fatal setting against assassins like these, but he did spare us when he could have easily killed us both."
As they walked out to where the Jeep stood, Archie asked, "How far away is this guy Saulpaugh's house anyway?"
"It is quite near Bonner's house," she replied. "They knew each other before beginning to work on books together. Bonner was a journalist employed by CNN, Saulpaugh supports himself by writing articles for magazines."
"And this book they started, about the history of assassination cults? I guess they found out a little too much." Archie got in behind the wheel and started the Wrangler up. "Furious Buddha doesn't like publicity."
"Yes. I phoned George Saulpaugh this morning. He knows about Bonner's death but the police told him it seemed to be from natural causes. An autopsy is scheduled for tomorrow."
"This Walking Weapon guy killed Bonner without leaving any marks? Sounds unlikely."
The Trom Girl watched her partner's profile as he drove through the near dusk. "I believe the autopsy will show internal damage with no visible bruising on the skin. The Death Touch, or Dim Mak, is not just a legend. Shiro told me that the Winter Snow school in Japan has been known to use it."
Archie exhaled sharply. "You know, I don't WANT to start carrying a gun. When I got out of the Army, I kinda promised myself not to use them anymore. But against characters like these...."
"Turn up this side road," she interrupted. "That is up to you, my love. I do want to say a sidearm would not help you against these Furious Buddha killers. Their reflexes and situational awareness are well above Human levels."
"Not encouraging," he said. "Okay, we're out in the boondocks again. It'll be getting dark soon. That looks like a hunting cabin up on that rise. Where's the house we're looking for?"
"I estimate another three miles. According to the DMV, Saulpaugh drives a 2001 blue Ford Taurus."
"You are going to get into real trouble someday, the way you casually hack into the DMV, the police and FBI, even NSA files. How are you going to explain it if they catch you?"
She did not seem to hear him. This was a slightly annoying habit of hers, often she simply did not answer questions or respond to verbal cues. Megan took the Link from its clip on her belt and inspected it carefully. "Archie, I want you to bring these photos along and stay well back. I have more protection and fighting skill than you do. There. That small house at the end of the road. Pull over here, under those trees."
Archie complied, leaving the Wrangler next to three birch trees by the side of the dirt road. Not far ahead stood a one-story structure which had seen better days. The white paint on the outer walls was peeling and missing in a few spots, the gutter over the front was sagging down on one end and there were old tires and other debris stacked up against one wall. No car was in sight.
"He's not here yet," Archie began but Megan strode quickly ahead of him. "Two life forms in the area. Humans." As she spoke, the Trom Girl holstered her Link and took out the beam projector again. She approached the house with the device held in front of her, holding her other open hand out to one side.
Watching her stalk toward the house, Archie felt intense guilt and anxiety. She was so tiny, sometimes she almost looked like a child, and he was a big moose letting her walk into danger while he held safely back. He knew her capabilities, but still it bothered him. It went against all his instincts.
There was a sudden loud smack and Megan gasped at unexpected pain. The beam projector spun far out of reach. She had not even seen the thrown rock that had struck her hand. The Trom Girl tried to make a fist and winced, finding that her wrist was broken. "Stay back, Archie."
Emerging from behind the house were a strangely mismatched pair. A tall blond man in slacks and a white dress shirt with the cuffs rolled back to the elbow, next to him a withered old Asian in a black robe that reached to the ground. The ancient one lowered his hand. He had been the one who had flung that small rock with complete accuracy.
"Su Sze Kyu," she said, holding her injured wrist with her other hand. "And your latest brainwashed slave."
"Hold your tongue! He is Wai-Y'Ien, my disciple of whom I am proud."
"Does he remember being abducted and placed in a conscious coma for four days? Does he even remember his real name? His family?" Megan demanded.
Podiolka turned to the old Tibetan with the first vague hints of uncertainty. "Master...?"
"Stop! Slay them now, I order it!" snapped the Furious Buddha teacher.
Before Megan could stop him, before the two assassins could react, Archie McAllister had taken three long strides forward and handed a big color photo to the blond man who took it automatically. "Recognize this guy?" he asked.
The tall assassin stared with wild eyes at a portrait of a young man in the dress blue uniform of the United States Marines. The young man in the picture looked serious and proud. "That... that was me?"
"Once a Marine, always a Marine!" Archie yelled. "You can't have forgotten Parris Island."
Megan Salenger had surprisingly backed off and was watching the interaction with her mouth slightly open. She hardly dared breathe as she saw what Archie was attempting.
"Wai-Y'ien, I gave you an order," Su Sze Kyu said in a deadly calm voice. "Slay them both."
But the blond man was still staring numbly at the photo. Archie handed the assassin another picture, this one showing a well-dressed middle-aged couple smiling at the camera. The woman was seated and the man was standing slightly behind her, with a hand on her shoulder. They both had blonde hair.
"Herbert and Josephine Podiolka," Archie said loudly. "They are still looking for you. They haven't given up on their son."
"Must I do this myself?" The Master of the Furious Buddha lunged forward, his hands tensed into claws that swirled in a circular motion. Just as quick, just as precise, Stanley Podiolka dropped to one knee and drove an elbow back into the center of Su Sze Ku's chest. Brittle ancient bones cracked and snapped audibly. Even as he staggered and fell, Su Sze Kyu slashed one hand around and the sharpened nails sliced deeply across Podiolka's throat. The Walking Weapon dropped the photos and grabbed feebly at his wound as bright arterial blood sprayed out under pressure.
In another instant, Megan had retrieved her beam projector and raced over to place herself between Archie and the two dying assassins. Podiolka's windpipe had been severed cleanly and he was losing blood fast. She stayed back, watching the two assassins warily. They both were mortally wounded but even a dying snake can bite one last time. Su Sze Ku had fallen onto one side and was twitching, but at his age he was not going to survive injuries that severe.
"One lung has collapsed," the Trom Girl observed. "A rib has entered his body cavity." She glanced behind at the bulk of Archie looming up over her. "Medical assistance can't possibly arrive in time."
"Even if we wanted to save them," the big man said. "These two have a lot of innocent deaths on their hands. Don't forget they were just about to murder you and me."
"That is true." Megan bent and retrieved the two photos from where they had fallen, cradling the beam projector in her elbow. "At least Podiolka regained his memories at the end. He remembered who he really was. That makes me feel better. And with teacher and student both dead, this is the end of the House of Furious Buddha."
"No," wheezed Su Sze Kyu in a final whisper. "There is..." Then his head lolled to one side with its unseeing eyes remaining open.
4/3/2016
A Trom Girl Mystery
10/28-10/29/2006
I.
Megan Salenger dimly realized she was trying to turn over. Everything hurt and it was freezing. For the longest time, she struggled to sit up and finally remembered her Tel Shai training. Breathe in deeply and slowly, hold it a beat, then exhale the same way. The healing factor which five years on a tagra diet had given her started to kick in as well. Suddenly her head cleared. She had taken an awful beating.
At twenty-six, the Trom Girl was in highly toned shape, better conditioned than most professional athletes. Being only three inches over five feet tall and not much over a hundred pounds was still sometimes a disadvantage, though. She forced herself up into a kneeling position. Her ribs and chest ached when she breathed and her right eye seemed swollen shut. Her nose felt stuffed. When she gingerly touched it, she found it was closed with dried blood. Under the mop of thick black hair was a sore lump on the right side of her head. Now she remembered everything.
It was just before dawn on a chilly morning. She had been lying in someone's back yard, near an old and dying apple tree. The ground was damp. Megan took more deep breaths, looked up to see the back of a two story house with tan aluminum siding. There seemed to be just woods on all sides, but then she couldn't see the road or her Jeep from this angle. How long had she been lying there?
Archie! The Trom Girl got to her feet and swayed, then started walking toward the house. It got easier as her muscles warmed up and the healing factor rapidly started repairs in her body. Under her faded jeans and flannel shirt, she was wearing the silk-thin flexible armor which dispersed impact over its entire surface. It was great protection but nothing was perfect. Her opponent had been overwhelming. She found Archie sitting up with his back propped against the wall of the house, near the heating oil tank with its pipe that led down to the cellar.
,lj-cut text="the rest of the story">To her great relief, he was conscious and aware. Archie McCallister was a big bear of a man, with a week's worth of beard and gentle blue eyes in a face that was now swollen. "Oh. Good to see you, Meg," he mumbled. "I was trying to stand up."
The Trom Girl knelt down next to her partner and examined his bruised mouth. "Archie, do you feel nausea? Is there a ringing in your ears?" Taking a pencil flashlight, she examined his pupils to see how they reacted.
"Naw, I'll be okay. That guy sure tagged me, though. I didn't even see him move and I was looking right at him. What about you, hon?"
"I will be fine in a few more minutes. You seem coherent. What day of the week is it?"
"Ummm, it's morning," Archie said. "Must be Sunday, right? Megan, who the hell was that guy?"
The Trom Girl sank down to sit next to him, leaning up against his solid reassuring bulk. "A martial artist of some kind. More than Human. A Snake man, maybe, or a Melgar. I could not defend myself against him."
"He was fast all right," Archie grumbled. "Man. Well, at least we're still among the living. I have a sinking feeling about the chances for the guy in this house, though."
"Bonner? Yes. I doubt if he is alive, but we have to check." She pressed back against the wall behind her and got to her feet again. "You stay put a few more minutes, my love. I'll be right back."
"I'll be okay in a second," he protested. "Here, let me go with you."
Megan did not argue. She pulled on his arm as he grabbed the oil tank and rose. Archie groaned, then straightened up. "Wow. I was in some bar fights when I was younger, but I never got hit like that. Nothing's broken, though. You look like hell."
"I'm recovering quickly," she said. "That's the tagra tea. My eye has already opened. For a Trom, pain is just a signal from the body." She went with him up a walk made of flat stones placed on the hill to the front of the house. Here was a small patio with two redwood chairs and a mountain bike that was leaning against the house. The front door stood open.
Megan stuck her head in and took a long look. Archie knew she was taking in hundreds of details in that single gaze and would be able to describe the scene in excrutiating detail years later. Placing one foot inside the doorway, she crouched and flexed the man's fingers slightly. "Rigor mortis has begun to set in. I judge he died three to four hours ago. No obvious cause of death is visible."
"It's funny how beat up we are but we're still alive."
"Yes. Leaving someone unconscious without killing him requires more skill than simply inflicting fatal injuries. Our enemy chose to spare us, for some reason." She stood fully erect and took a deep breath. "Ow."
"Time to call the police, I suppose."
"Not from here," she said. "No one knew we were present except for Bonner. He didn't tell anyone. We had only arrived and gone down into his back yard a minute before we were attacked." Megan had unclipped her Link from its holster and was taking readings on Archie. The small device hummed and clicked, but she seemed reassured by the figures on its tiny screen. "Your vitals are within your usual range."
By then, Archie had gotten a better look at her. "You've got a bloody nose, hon."
"It has stopped. I will clean up on the way. Let's get going." She walked around the house to where her red Jeep Wrangler sat next to Bonner's Volkswagen Passat. Neither vehicle seemed to have been touched. The green and blue lights of the security system she had devised blinked steadily behind the driver's sunvisor of her Jeep. Still moving a bit carefully, she climbed up behind the wheel and Archie got into the passenger's seat after a slight struggle.
"The nearest house was more than a mile away. Let's go while most people are still asleep so no one sees us." Megan swung the Jeep around and headed down the country road at a leisurely speed. After a minute, she said, "There should be some baby wipes in your door pocket, Archie."
He opened the packet and handed her a few of the wipes. While driving, she began dabbing at her face to get the dried blood off. "I have to admit... despite what Trom doctrine says, sometimes pain is difficult to just ignore. How are you feeling?"
"Getting better. Gonna be a sweet bruise around my mouth, though. What's your plan for the guy who decked us?"
Speeding up a little as they neared the highway, the Trom Girl hesitated almost imperceptibly. "I have not decided yet, Archie. I need more data to work with. Obviously, we should not simply confront him directly again."
Even though it hurt to do so, Archie laughed. "I'm not a genius raised by the Trom and even I could figure that out. You get run over by a Mack truck, you don't stand there when it comes around again."
II.
A little over half an hour later, they were back at the cottage they had rented for the week outside the town of Whispell, where the border between Pennsylvania and New York State was only twenty miles away. This was the last in a row of four identical cottages, overseen by the landlord's regular mansion higher up on the hill. As they stepped down from the Jeep, Megan seemed to be back to normal while Archie was still sore and stiff.
"I wish I could share the tagra tea with you," she said, watching him sadly. "But it would mean expulsion from Tel Shai and keeping membership there is my duty."
The big mechanic swung his arms and rubbed his right shoulder as he followed her through the front door. "It would be great to heal the way you do, that's for sure."
The interior was meant to be charming in an Early American way, with exposed log rafters and wood paneling everywhere. Even the furniture seemed to be handmade. "I want you to take a hot shower, Archie," the Trom Girl said. "I don't think you have anything worse than bruising but I wish to keep an eye on you."
"Okay, hon. What about you?"
"I need to clean up a little. I will use the hot water in the kitchen sink." She yanked off the oversized flannel shirt to reveal a dark red T-shirt beneath. As the sound of the shower hissed from the bathroom, she washed the dried blood out of her nose and off her face. A clot slid out of one nostril and she washed it down the drain with distaste. There was a yellowish bruise on the left side of her face, but the swelling there had already subsided.
Going to get a bottle of water from the refrigerator, the Trom Girl lowered herself to the couch that sat in the early morning light through a wide picture window. She had decided their attacker had not been a Snake man. They rarely let anyone live who saw them in action. Nor did he seem to be a Melgar, who were stronger and faster than Human but whose fighting skills were always blunt and direct. Their assailant had shown skill. A Gelydra from Ulgor was in the same physical class as the Melgarin but they had a distinctive look to them with the stiff bristly hair and flat pug faces.
Their enemy seemed to be a Human fighter, she concluded by elimination. One with skills and control equal to a Kumundu master. While Archie came out of the bathroom and dug through his knapsack for a change of socks and underwear, Megan mentally ran through all the foes the KDF had encountered in its almost thirty years history.
Dropping down next to her, Archie sighed. "That's better. Now I just feel like I was on a binge drinking weekend. What's on your amazing multiple-level super-genius brain, kid?"
"I have tentatively identified the identity of our opponent," she said. "Seven years ago, our captain fought with two members of the House of Furious Buddha. You've seen Jeremy in action. He's at the upper level of Human ability, but he was evenly matched against the Furious Buddha disciple."
"Gotcha. Tell me more."
"The lore says that long ago, a student of Tel Shai was expelled for lack of character but took some knowledge of Kumundu with him. Over the centuries, the House he founded has expanded on that knowledge. They also are reported to use the Alchemical drug Velocitin." She took a sip of the water, offered him some and then went on. "Jeremy fought those two Furious Buddha warriors before I began my mission in the world, but I have read his notes on the clash."
"When your Dire Wolf starts fighting, I can't even follow what he's doing," Archie said. "It looks like trick photography or something. If he said he met his equals, I'd treat them with some caution."
"Yes," she said simply.
"Ah, well. What about calling in your teammate Argent? He's the martial arts expert on your crew."
Megan Salenger took a second to reply. "Yes. Sheng has spent much more time practicing Kumundu than I have. It's his specialty. But I do not want to request his assistance just because I have run into someone formidable."
"Wait, is this just pride?" Archie asked. "Are you going to carry on by yourself because you don't want to admit you could use help?"
With an uncharacteristic chuckle, the Trom Girl leaned over up against him. "I guess it is. I believe I should be able to handle any mission myself. With you, of course."
"Right. Well, I'll do what I can but honestly any real black belt could mop the floor with me." He got to his feet and stretched, seeming to be loosening up. "It's almost eight. How about some scrambled eggs?"
"Oh, I would love that. I didn't realize how hungry I am. Some whole wheat toast as well, if you don't mind." Megan remained leaning forward on the couch, hands clasped in front of her. "The more I recall about Furious Buddha, the more seriously I see I must take their threat. They are called Wai-Y'ien, the 'Weapon That Walks.'"
Inspecting the interior of the refrigerator, Archie said, "There's Cheddar cheese in here, how do you feel about ripping some of it up and putting it in the eggs?"
"Whatever you say," she replied absently. "The Furious Buddha school basically brainwashes its assassins. As I understand it, the teacher kidnaps a young man or woman and uses an Alchemical serum that makes them appear dead. They remain in this state for a few days until their memories fade and their minds change drastically. When they are revived, the victims are mentally almost blank slates which the teacher begins to train."
"Goddam, that's creepy," Archie said. The clatter of the frying pan and the sliding of drawers sounded from where he stood in the kitchenette. "Sort of being buried alive, what a nightmare."
"It is called the Death In Life." The Trom Girl had that faraway expression that Archie recognized as showing her brain was running through parallel trains of thought. "I believe the killing of Donner is related to the other case we have been asked to investigate."
"What, the missing guy? Podiolka?"
"Yes. This all started when we were asked to find some trace of Stanley Podiolka. His family has not heard about him since he disappeared from college five years ago." Megan rose and went over to help Archie, getting some plates down from a cabinet and opening the loaf of bread. "I think there is a connection."
"You know," Archie said. "I don't think you've mentioned why this guy's disappearance is in your special area of weird crimes. What makes it a 'Trom Girl Mystery?'"
Megan brought the toast over, two slices for each of them. She had also made a mug of instant coffee in the microwave for Archie. He didn't like instant but it was better than nothing. As she pulled a chair under her, the Trom Girl blinked at the size of the pyramid of steaming yellow fluff on her plate. "Archie. How many eggs did you use for this?!"
"I don't see the point of leaving one or two in the package," he said. "They'll just sit there." He added salt and pepper and began shoveling his serving down.
"Very well." Megan began to eat too, chewing thoroughly and sipping water between bites as she had been taught. "As for your question, Podiolka had just been discharged from the Marines and begun taking classes at Stony Point College. The night he was last seen, a security guard was murdered. The man's gun had been taken away from him and his heart ruptured by a single finger poke to the chest. Security footage showed an Asian man doing this, an elderly man no more than five feet tall and apparently eighty years old."
"Yikes. So this geezer kidnapped Podiolka and brainwashed him to become a 'weapon who walks?'"
"That's my conclusion," Megan said. She seemed a little alarmed at how quickly she had plowed through the heap of scrambled eggs and now nibbled on a piece of toast thoughtfully. "I have a tentative plan for dealing with this Walking Weapon."
"Hah!" snorted her partner. "When DON'T you have a plan? With a Plan B and several contingency plans as well."
III.
The motel was rundown and uninviting, but it had an advantage that its denizens were preoccupied with drug deals and prostitution. No one paid attention to the two men who rented Room 11. Su Sze Kyu was sitting in the full lotus, back straight and head held erect. Despite the fact that he seemed to be in his eighties, he was not bent. The bony face was wrinkled but the dark deepset eyes were alert and active. The Master of the Furious Buddha had only a few wisps of thin white hair on his head, his skin was dry and dark amber in color. Wrapped snugly around him was a white silk robe drawn in at the waist with a red sash.
The Master watched his student in silence. Podiolka was kneeling on the mat before him, face expressionless and eyes veiled. The student was a tall man with light blond hair in a crewcut and blue eyes that gave nothing away. Podiolka looked trim and athletic, like someone who played tennis or swam frequently, but he was not conspicuously muscular.
From the rooms next door came mindless repetitive music with a heavy bass thump. They ignored it. Su Sze Kyu regarded his student and regretfully concluded that it would be at least another year before Podiolka reached his peak. Not that the disciple was not sincere or that he did not train hard. He was just not as quick to achieve higher skill as some of the other students the Master had taught over the decades. Still, right now, he would send Podiolka against any but three or four living Humans with confidence.
"Why did you let the two white people live?" asked the Master in a calm voice. There was not much trace of Tibet in his voice after a lifetime traveling the world. "They plan to expose us to the world."
Podiolka bowed his head before answering. "Plucking them would mean three mysterious deaths instead of one. The police would be that much more curious. They were acting as guards, I thought letting them survive meant they would flee so as not be blamed."
Raising a finger with a long sharpened nail on its tip, Su Sze Ku reproved his disciple. "I recognize your description of the woman. She is a Tel Shai knight and a member of the Kenneth Dred Foundation. We avoid them when possible... tigers pass each other in the night without clashing."
"I have made an error, then," Podiolka said sadly.
"Yes. But you did not know who it was standing in your path. I do not recognize the man from your description. He is likely just her servant and of no importance. That woman, though, might be a danger even to us. She is a Human raised by the Trom and she has studied Kumundu under the cursed Chael at Tel Shai."
Podiolka watched his Master meekly. "Will you then come with me when the next flower is plucked?"
"Against nearly any opponent, I would not think my presence is necessary," Syu Sze Ku answered. "You have taken in Furious Buddha well. I would send you against most targets without doubts. You are truly Wai-Y'ien, the Walking Weapon."
The blond man bowed again, this time lowering his head almost to the wood floor before straightening up again.
"But we are dealing with someone who combines Trom and Tel Shai," the Master continued. "So be it. I will be nearby when you strike. Against both of us, nothing that stands on two legs may survive."
IV.
As soon as they were finished with breakfast, Megan stood up and leaned on the back of her chair. "I'm sorry, hon, but I think I need a nap. It's been a long time since I took such physical damage."
"Oh, I'm right there with you," he said. "Sounds like a plan." Putting the dishes and forks in the sink for the moment, he sat down on the king size bed and yanked his beat-up work shoes off. They stretched out on top of the covers, Megan curled up next to him and mumbled something, then was asleep instantly. Surprising himself, Archie drifted off in a few seconds himself.
Almost four hours later, they both stirred. Megan gave him a peck on the cheek and went into the bathroom to shower and change clothes. She emerged wearing white jeans, a black polo shirt and her favorite oversized red flannel shirt. Underneath the clothing, of course, she was wearing the Trom armor. Barefoot, she hopped back up on the bed. "Hey, you!" she chirped.
"You look great," Archie told her. "Not a trace of being beat up last night. It's amazing." He got off the bed a little carefully and went into the bathroom. When he returned, tucking his shirt in, he said, "No blood in my urine. That's good. I got hit in a dozen different spots at the same time."
The Trom Girl took the Link off her belt and adjusted some dials, studied the screen, and fiddled some more. "As far as I can tell, you have not sustained serious damage, Archie. You will be visibly bruised for a few days of course. Is your vision blurred at all? Do you have difficulty swallowing?"
"Nope."
"That is encouraging." She jumped up off the bed, dug out some socks from her suitcase and tugged them on. "We need to protect Bonner's associate who was also worried about being targeted for assassination. He intended to hire a bodyguard but, to be honest, I have no faith in a bodyguard being much protection against Furious Buddha." She dug through her wallet and handed him a small green card.
"What's up?"
"This is my ATM card," she answered. "I want you to go into Whispell and purchase a printer. A small amount of paper and full color ink will be sufficient."
"Well... sure. Not a problem. We'll tackle deadly assassins with handbills." He grabbed his denim jacket as he headed for the door. "I've learned that you explain things sooner or later."
Megan seemed not to have heard him. "I will be doing some research," she said as if to herself as she lowered herself to the couch and began tapping keys on her Link. "Please hurry back, Archie, but drive carefully."
Opening the door, the big man grinned to himself. Looking back, he affectionately watched the tousled black hair and intent dark eyes as she concentrated. Megan still gave off mixed signals so often he was getting able to read them.
IV.
By late afternoon, Archie had returned with the printer and supplies. He had also brought a double cheese pepperoni pizza which they devoured. Most of the time, Megan stuck to the strictly planned diet she had been raised on by the Trom council, but she allowed herself lapses when on an assignment. Archie had secretly figured this was one reason why she enjoyed going on these 'Trom Girl Mysteries' so much. Often, once a case was cleared up, she liked to linger in the area another day to enjoy Archie's company and, as he saw it, play hooky from her discipline.
Using her Link for its Internet connection, Megan had obtained a few photos from sources that should have been secure. She had no qualms about using advanced Trom technology to get through firewalls without being detecting. She sent a signal to the printer and produced two copies each of five photos. When this was done, she divided the copies up in two manila folders which she placed on the dresser.
"This has been a productive afternoon," she announced. "I think we have a way to deal with these Furious Buddhas if force can be avoided."
"What a goofy name," snorted Archie. He was rubbing his right shoulder tenderly. "Why 'Furious Buddha?'"
"Their claim is that the founder of their House was inspired by a vision of the Lord Buddha in an enraged state. You are still sore, Archie."
"Aw, I'm okay," he protested but she brought him over to the king-size bed and told him to disrobe and lie face on it. Megan warmed up some baby oil and rubbed it over her hands. Starting at his neck, she began a deep tissue massage. She proceeded slowly. Megan's hands were exceptionally strong and she had a knowledge of human muscle groups that would match that of most licensed therapists.
"Oh, you have knots," she muttered. "If that man had struck you a little harder, he would have done permanent damage." By the time she had worked her way down to his feet, Archie had relaxed enough that his breathing was deep and slow. "Your calves are all tense," she said as she probed and stroked his lower legs. The massage went on for over forty minutes until she was satisfied he was not seriously injured.
When she was up probing his lower back again, Megan slid her hand gently under his body. "Say, what's this?" she whispered in mock surprise. "Just what are you thinking about, mister?" Standing up, she unbuckled her belt and began wriggling out of her jeans. "I feel you should turn over on your back now..."
It was almost dark outside before they were both fully dressed again and heading out the door. Megan held the flat metal oblong of the beam projector, her primary weapon, and clicked a cartridge into its slot.
"Using the nerve ray or the concussion?" Archie asked, waiting by the door.
"The neural disruption effect. I am setting it higher than usual." She clipped the tool to her belt, where the oversized flannel shirt concealed it. The Trom Girl went over to the dresser and fetched both manila folders. "Perhaps I would be justified in using a fatal setting against assassins like these, but he did spare us when he could have easily killed us both."
As they walked out to where the Jeep stood, Archie asked, "How far away is this guy Saulpaugh's house anyway?"
"It is quite near Bonner's house," she replied. "They knew each other before beginning to work on books together. Bonner was a journalist employed by CNN, Saulpaugh supports himself by writing articles for magazines."
"And this book they started, about the history of assassination cults? I guess they found out a little too much." Archie got in behind the wheel and started the Wrangler up. "Furious Buddha doesn't like publicity."
"Yes. I phoned George Saulpaugh this morning. He knows about Bonner's death but the police told him it seemed to be from natural causes. An autopsy is scheduled for tomorrow."
"This Walking Weapon guy killed Bonner without leaving any marks? Sounds unlikely."
The Trom Girl watched her partner's profile as he drove through the near dusk. "I believe the autopsy will show internal damage with no visible bruising on the skin. The Death Touch, or Dim Mak, is not just a legend. Shiro told me that the Winter Snow school in Japan has been known to use it."
Archie exhaled sharply. "You know, I don't WANT to start carrying a gun. When I got out of the Army, I kinda promised myself not to use them anymore. But against characters like these...."
"Turn up this side road," she interrupted. "That is up to you, my love. I do want to say a sidearm would not help you against these Furious Buddha killers. Their reflexes and situational awareness are well above Human levels."
"Not encouraging," he said. "Okay, we're out in the boondocks again. It'll be getting dark soon. That looks like a hunting cabin up on that rise. Where's the house we're looking for?"
"I estimate another three miles. According to the DMV, Saulpaugh drives a 2001 blue Ford Taurus."
"You are going to get into real trouble someday, the way you casually hack into the DMV, the police and FBI, even NSA files. How are you going to explain it if they catch you?"
She did not seem to hear him. This was a slightly annoying habit of hers, often she simply did not answer questions or respond to verbal cues. Megan took the Link from its clip on her belt and inspected it carefully. "Archie, I want you to bring these photos along and stay well back. I have more protection and fighting skill than you do. There. That small house at the end of the road. Pull over here, under those trees."
Archie complied, leaving the Wrangler next to three birch trees by the side of the dirt road. Not far ahead stood a one-story structure which had seen better days. The white paint on the outer walls was peeling and missing in a few spots, the gutter over the front was sagging down on one end and there were old tires and other debris stacked up against one wall. No car was in sight.
"He's not here yet," Archie began but Megan strode quickly ahead of him. "Two life forms in the area. Humans." As she spoke, the Trom Girl holstered her Link and took out the beam projector again. She approached the house with the device held in front of her, holding her other open hand out to one side.
Watching her stalk toward the house, Archie felt intense guilt and anxiety. She was so tiny, sometimes she almost looked like a child, and he was a big moose letting her walk into danger while he held safely back. He knew her capabilities, but still it bothered him. It went against all his instincts.
There was a sudden loud smack and Megan gasped at unexpected pain. The beam projector spun far out of reach. She had not even seen the thrown rock that had struck her hand. The Trom Girl tried to make a fist and winced, finding that her wrist was broken. "Stay back, Archie."
Emerging from behind the house were a strangely mismatched pair. A tall blond man in slacks and a white dress shirt with the cuffs rolled back to the elbow, next to him a withered old Asian in a black robe that reached to the ground. The ancient one lowered his hand. He had been the one who had flung that small rock with complete accuracy.
"Su Sze Kyu," she said, holding her injured wrist with her other hand. "And your latest brainwashed slave."
"Hold your tongue! He is Wai-Y'Ien, my disciple of whom I am proud."
"Does he remember being abducted and placed in a conscious coma for four days? Does he even remember his real name? His family?" Megan demanded.
Podiolka turned to the old Tibetan with the first vague hints of uncertainty. "Master...?"
"Stop! Slay them now, I order it!" snapped the Furious Buddha teacher.
Before Megan could stop him, before the two assassins could react, Archie McAllister had taken three long strides forward and handed a big color photo to the blond man who took it automatically. "Recognize this guy?" he asked.
The tall assassin stared with wild eyes at a portrait of a young man in the dress blue uniform of the United States Marines. The young man in the picture looked serious and proud. "That... that was me?"
"Once a Marine, always a Marine!" Archie yelled. "You can't have forgotten Parris Island."
Megan Salenger had surprisingly backed off and was watching the interaction with her mouth slightly open. She hardly dared breathe as she saw what Archie was attempting.
"Wai-Y'ien, I gave you an order," Su Sze Kyu said in a deadly calm voice. "Slay them both."
But the blond man was still staring numbly at the photo. Archie handed the assassin another picture, this one showing a well-dressed middle-aged couple smiling at the camera. The woman was seated and the man was standing slightly behind her, with a hand on her shoulder. They both had blonde hair.
"Herbert and Josephine Podiolka," Archie said loudly. "They are still looking for you. They haven't given up on their son."
"Must I do this myself?" The Master of the Furious Buddha lunged forward, his hands tensed into claws that swirled in a circular motion. Just as quick, just as precise, Stanley Podiolka dropped to one knee and drove an elbow back into the center of Su Sze Ku's chest. Brittle ancient bones cracked and snapped audibly. Even as he staggered and fell, Su Sze Kyu slashed one hand around and the sharpened nails sliced deeply across Podiolka's throat. The Walking Weapon dropped the photos and grabbed feebly at his wound as bright arterial blood sprayed out under pressure.
In another instant, Megan had retrieved her beam projector and raced over to place herself between Archie and the two dying assassins. Podiolka's windpipe had been severed cleanly and he was losing blood fast. She stayed back, watching the two assassins warily. They both were mortally wounded but even a dying snake can bite one last time. Su Sze Ku had fallen onto one side and was twitching, but at his age he was not going to survive injuries that severe.
"One lung has collapsed," the Trom Girl observed. "A rib has entered his body cavity." She glanced behind at the bulk of Archie looming up over her. "Medical assistance can't possibly arrive in time."
"Even if we wanted to save them," the big man said. "These two have a lot of innocent deaths on their hands. Don't forget they were just about to murder you and me."
"That is true." Megan bent and retrieved the two photos from where they had fallen, cradling the beam projector in her elbow. "At least Podiolka regained his memories at the end. He remembered who he really was. That makes me feel better. And with teacher and student both dead, this is the end of the House of Furious Buddha."
"No," wheezed Su Sze Kyu in a final whisper. "There is..." Then his head lolled to one side with its unseeing eyes remaining open.
4/3/2016
