“Not the kind of dragons that like fire,” Joe mused.
He moved toward the flames, pulled his coat off and wrapped it around a burning length of wood. With the pike in one hand and the flaming torch in the other, he inched toward the waiting animals.
“Back,” he said, jabbing at the nearest one. “Back.”
The dragon swatted at the stick with an outstretched claw but retreated after making contact with the flames. The other juvenile did the same. But the alpha male stood its ground.
“Now or never,” Joe told himself. He rushed directly toward the big animal, tossing the blazing section of wood at its face.
The animal shrugged off the burning stick, knocking it effortlessly to the side with its snout. The distraction was all Joe needed. Still running, he jammed the pike into the sand and pole-vaulted himself up and over the animal, launching himself forward at the top and hitting the ground at a dead run.
The beast leapt up too late to swat him out of the sky. It came back down on all fours and spun in a half circle.
Joe was already leaping onto the wall. He found the cleft and climbed hand over hand, never looking back until he reached the top.
The Komodo dragons stood below in a tight semicircle, gazing up at him hungrily.
Joe waved a farewell and ran down toward the lake, where Paul, Gamay and Kenzo were taking cover on the rocks. There was no sign of his wounded attacker. Out on the water, the boats were speeding off into the dark.
“They’re leaving,” Paul said.
“The question is, who are they and why did they do this?” Gamay asked.
“Whoever they are, they’ve done what they came to do,” Joe said. “They’ve burned Kenzo out and destroyed his work. All the data, all the records. It’s all on paper. Everything is gone.”
“Not everything,” Gamay said.
Joe turned her way. She unraveled what she’d wrapped around the shaft of the mace. It was the blue map with the silver borders. Aside from torn patches in each corner where she’d ripped it from the wall, it was no worse for wear.
The red lines were still plainly visible. “Someone didn’t want us to find out where these lines crossed,” Gamay said. “I thought that made this information worth saving.”
“Could it really be worth killing for?” Paul asked.
“Someone obviously thought so,” Joe said, looking at Kenzo. “How is he?”
“He’s coughing blood,” Gamay replied. “I think his lungs may have been burned. If he inhaled the fire . . .”
She
didn’t have to say any more; they all knew that to be a bad diagnosis. In any case, Kenzo’s only hope was a hospital with a burn center.
“We could use a car,” Paul said. “Any chance the garage hasn’t burned?”
Joe looked over his shoulder, though he didn’t need to. The entire pagoda was an inferno. It no longer looked like a building, just a fountain of flame. “Not likely,” Joe said. “But this fire should act as a beacon and bring help; it couldn’t be much brighter.”
A minute later, the sound of another boat motoring through the darkness set everyone on edge.
Joe strained to see into the night. Instead of a sleek motorboat, he saw a slow, ungainly looking craft chugging their way. Its flat front bulldozed the water rather than knifing through it, while its motor sounded like an old air-cooled VW.
“The Duck,” Joe said, recognizing the amphibious car from Kenzo’s collection.
Kurt was at the wheel while Akiko and several of Kenzo’s people were sitting in the back.
Joe waved frantically to get Kurt’s attention. The Duck wouldn’t be the fastest mode of transportation, but it could drive on land as well as water. It meant there was a chance to get Kenzo help.
10
SHINJUKU PRINCE HOTEL