hand-to-hand weapons, no guns.
“Nice collection,” Daniels said.
“My life’s work.”
“Ever get to use ‘em?”
“Not often enough.”
Tsubasa smiled, lowered his gun, and tossed it to the floor behind him. Daniels removed his tool belt, dropping it in the hallway. He stepped into the trophy room still holding his throwing knife, fearful of attackers beside the door waiting to ambush him. Once he was in the room and saw that he was alone with Tsubasa, he tossed the knife in the hallway, and closed the door.
“We duel,” Daniels said. “Victory for you is to kill me. Victory for me means you tell me who hired you, and who you sent to kill my partner.”
“Agreed,” said Tsubasa.
There was only one weapon in the whole room that was not mounted to the walls. On a pedestal behind Tsubasa, there was a samurai sword, a katana, in a beautiful red-lacquered scabbard. Considering its prominent placement, it must have been a true treasure. Perhaps it was even made by one of the legendary Japanese swordsmiths, Muramasa or Masamune. It was possible, even likely, that this blade was four to seven hundred years old. Daniels stared at the sword, and said “I choose first.”
Tsubasa wagged his finger. “This is my home, and these are my treasures. I choose first.” He picked up the beautifully displayed sword, and drew the blade. It was pristine, perfectly shaped, slightly curved, bright and clean. It was the work of a master. Tsubasa set the empty scabbard back on the cradle, and nodded to Daniels. “Now you may choose. But be warned that if your weapon damages this masterpiece, I will make your death last for days.”
Daniels looked around, studying the different options. Finally, he chose a gaudy, ornate rapier. It was a lightweight, one-handed fencing sword, with a long thin blade that came to a sharp point at the tip. The hilt curved back down to cover Daniels’ hand with ornate gold rings. The blade was over a metre long, much longer than Tsubasa’s Japanese sword, but also much thinner and weaker. Daniels tried a few swings to get a feel for the weapon. Compared to the katanas he had used earlier, this was like holding a feather. A heavy, two-handed sword is like a bulldozer; a fencing sword is like a sports car.
“A foolish choice,” Tsubasa taunted. “That blade is so thin and weak that I’ll chop right through it. But at least it won’t damage my masterpiece. I’ll give you a quick death.”
Daniels stopped testing the blade and faced his opponent. He knew exactly what he wanted to say: “Well, you’re right that it’ll be quick. I’ll only need one swing. You see, my blade is made for precision. Yours is a heavy, two-handed weapon, requiring you to commit your weight to the swing. Catch me, and you’ll cut me in half. But if you miss, you’re vulnerable. And with my long, light blade, I can step backward and thrust forward at the same time. As soon as you miss me, I’ll flick the pointed tip of this blade into both your eyes, and leave you blind. Then you’ll tell me what I came here for and beg for a merciful death.”
Tsubasa screamed and charged. The master of this house of assassins came running; sword raised high, and swung it downward in a diagonal slash. Daniels backed up. Tsubasa swung again, another diagonal slash. He was holding back, not putting everything into the swings, afraid to act out Daniels’ prediction. Daniels backed himself against the wall, and once there was nowhere for Daniels to go, Tsubasa took the bait.
“Let’s see you step backward now.”
Raising his sword over his head, Tsubasa screamed and swung straight down, putting everything he had into one fatal chop. Daniels was ready for it. He braced his foot against one of the shelves, and dove diagonally to his right and toward Tsubasa, his right hand thrusting the sword’s tip straight at Tsubasa while in mid-air.
But he didn’t go for the eyes. Tsubasa raised his shoulder, trying to hide his face, and that opened up his ribs. Daniels pushed the tip of the thin blade between Tsubasa’s ribs and into his left lung, right next to the heart. Tsubasa gasped, and the ancient sword flew from his hands, stabbing into the floorboards. Daniels landed on his feet, and pushed the blade in farther, drawing another gasp from the assassin.
“I thought you were going to blind me,” Tsubasa croaked.
“I lied. It wasn’t the sword that killed you, it was my words beforehand. Just like your client killed Charlie with a word.”
Tsubasa nodded.
“Charles Nakano. Who hired you?”
Tsubasa’s eyes welled with tears. “That sword is seven hundred years old. It has been in my family for five hundred years. If you burn this house down...”
Daniels nodded. “It will be cared for.”
Tsubasa croaked. “American. Hired us. I have a file on him, in the safe. Thirty-four, Twenty-four, six.”
“And who did you send? Who killed my Charlie?”
Tsubasa coughed blood, and for a moment he seemed to forget where he was before clearing his throat and grimacing. “My best.”
Daniels dug the sword in further, until he could feel the beating of Tsubasa’s heart vibrate down the blade. “Who?”
Tsubasa grabbed the blade with both hands and pulled it closer, stabbing his own heart. As his legs went weak, he looked at Daniels and smiled. “My very best. My son.” Daniels knew what that meant. This wasn’t just personal for Daniels; it would be the same for Tsubasa’s son.
Tsubasa fell to the floor dead, leaving Daniels as the only living thing in the house. Daniels went to the room’s only other door, and passing through he found himself in Tsubasa’s bedroom. The safe was large, about three feet tall, and the bottom shelf was filled with one-ounce gold coins. Daniels found a duffel bag and took all of them. The top shelf contained an accordion folder with various jobs documented within.
The file for Charlie’s hit was right there, and Daniels stuffed it into the bag, leaving the other files on the bed, knowing they would burn with the rest of the house. On his way out, he closed Tsubasa’s eyes, and took the ancient katana in its flawless red scabbard.
He spent an hour preparing for the burn. He dragged the guards from outside into the main hallway. He found a gasoline tank in the triple-garage and filled a jerry can, making sure to douse each corpse. When all was ready, he left a half-full plastic gas can on the stove, and turned on the gas-fire burners. The house was an inferno while Daniels drove away in the car he had left three-quarters of a mile away. When the stockpiled explosives finally went up, Daniels was long gone.
Back at his hotel, he read the file. Before Daniels had been a broken-down killing machine, before he and Charlie had travelled the country helping people fight for what was right, Theo Daniels had worked for the CIA. He had answered to a lot of people over the years, including deputy directors, directors, even taking orders from admirals on the Joint Chiefs of Staff. But his very first handler, the one who recruited him out of the marines, who sent him on his first five kills, was black ops specialist named Owen Miller.
And when Daniels read the name of the man who had paid a million dollars to hire some of the world’s best assassins to kill Charlie Tanaka, that’s what he saw: Owen Miller.
The CIA had ordered the hit. That only meant one thing: they would be come for Daniels next. Unless he killed them first.
#
This has been a KILLING MACHINE short story.
The rest of the series are for sale individually, or as a box set collection.
(Author’s note: You can read this series out of order if you want, but I recommend making sure to keep Part Five: The Revenge for last, as it contains spoilers for all other stories.)
2: THE CHASE: Daniels hunts down the man who killed his mentor.
3: THE RESCUE: When Miller targets the innocent, Daniels must rescue a group of people from a squad of professional killers.
4: THE ESCAPE: Unarmed, tied up, surrounded. Daniels must find a way to survive.
5: THE REVENGE: The Killing Machine settles the score with the man who ruined his life.
Or get them all:
KILLING MACHINE: THE
COMPLETE COLLECTION: The whole series at a discount price.
Also by Shaun Tennant:
“Farewell Reality” series
Blood Cell- A Novel
Stray Woods- A Short Story (FREE!)
Short Stories:
Bone Soup
Heads Up
Follow: @shauntennant4
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