The Rising Sea (NUMA Files 15)

“You need to come with me,” Gao said. “Han wants everyone inside.”

Ushi-Oni shook his head. He wasn’t fond of closed-in spaces. Time in various prisons had seen to that. Besides, he was sweating. The fever was coming back. He needed more powerful antibiotics. “You go, I’m staying out here.”

“Suit yourself,” Gao said. “But I’ll need the sword. We have to examine it in the lab.”

Instead of handing Gao the sword, Oni extended it toward the diminutive scientist, bringing the tip within an inch of Gao’s chest. “After I’ve been paid.”

Gao pulled back, putting some distance between himself and the blade. He took one more glance at Oni and then retreated into the stairwell, shutting the decaying wooden door behind him.

Oni turned to the surroundings. There was not much to see from his vantage point, only abandoned monoliths and a broken hill that had been hollowed out by the miners. Still, the ruined island begged to be explored.

Oni could smell the rain coming, but he didn’t care, it might even help quell his fever. Picking a direction at random, he crossed the open expanse where the helicopter had landed and walked out into the dark.

44

ROOF OF BUILDING 37, HASHIMA ISLAND

KURT LAY FLAT at the edge of the building. He studied the terrain through the infrared filter. The central mountain was on his right while a nine-story building lay to the left. A concrete pedestrian bridge several floors below spanned the diagonal gap between the two.

The hillside was dark and cold, nothing resembling a heat source could be seen. The bridge was darker still. And the concrete shell of the building on the far side was like empty caves stacked one on top of the other.

Joe crawled forward beside him.

Kurt looked up. “Did you find the night vision goggles?”

“No,” Joe said. “They must have gone over the edge.”

“Better them than us.”

“True,” Joe said. “See anything?”

“There’s an oval swath down there in the clearing,” Kurt said. “Residual heat left behind where the helicopter sat for the last two hours.”

“Any sign of the passengers?”

“Not yet. No sign of a vent or doorway radiating heat. All these buildings are dark.”

“So much for the Yellow Brick Road,” Joe said.

As Kurt went back to scanning the buildings the rain began to fall. It came lightly at first, tapping him on the shoulders with a soft patter, trickling through his hair. Soon it was falling steadily, not a tropical downpour but cold, gray rain that would fall all night.

Kurt ignored it for now, concentrating on the task before him. He studied the structures one by one. Across and down, across and down. The tangled complex of buildings impressed him. Built over the decades, some were spaced so tightly there was barely an alleyway large enough for a bicycle to fit between them; others had been built right into each other, with outer walls knocked down and hallways extended.

Han’s people could be hidden in any one of them. At least that was Kurt’s initial impression.

“These buildings are more dilapidated than I thought,” he said. “A demolition crew would have a field day here.”

“Might not need them,” Joe said. “Some of these structures are partially collapsed already.”

With Joe’s words, it dawned on Kurt. “I know where they are.”

“Did you spot something?”

“Not a thing,” Kurt admitted. “But if you were hiding on this island, would you set up shop in a building that could collapse at any moment, one that couldn’t keep the rain out or the wind from howling through?”

Joe grinned. “Probably not. You think they’ve gone underground?”

Kurt nodded. “They dug coal out of this island for decades. The mine has several entrances and large open galleries where it’s warm and dry.”