Matt Drake 11 - The Ghost Ships of Arizona by David Leadbeater Page B

wanted to. It threw hurdles and complications your way like a gleeful jester performing for its uncaring master. Through their adventures from Hawaii to Germany, from Iraq to North Korea, from ancient Babylon and Sunnyvale UK to Washington DC and Hong Kong and now Japan she had grown more and more accustomed to the new life. It had molded her, and she had happily invited it in.
    Then—her parents, Grace and murder. Everything had changed. The knife-edge of life was more dangerous than any opponent she had ever faced. At least Grace seemed to be quickly growing for the better.
    Mai regarded Chika now with Grace in the background. Instead of answering her sister she focused on Grace. The young woman had blossomed during this trip and indeed during the danger that came before it. More than the actual danger, Mai knew it was the purity of living life that helped Grace shrug off her old fears and nightmares. It was experience, involvement, interaction. Get dirty, get complicated; immerse yourself in life’s entangled web.
    One life, she thought. Live it.
    Bloody hell, I’m starting to sound like Alicia!
    Maybe Grace’s flourishing good moods were starting to have a positive effect on her. Maybe she could get past all this.
    Maybe . . .
    Chika thrust her hands onto her hips, the no-nonsense look reminding Mai of a much younger girl and a much more innocent time.
    “I love you,” she told her sister suddenly, openly.
    Chika’s face crumbled, the sisterly affection shining through. Despite their years apart they were bonded forever. Nothing could ever change that. Grace finally noticed and bounced into their embrace, clueless to what she was interrupting and all the more lovable for it.
    “Group hug!” she cried, beckoning Hibiki.
    When they broke, Mai turned away and addressed Chika. “I have accepted the Yakuza’s terms and am awaiting notice. It won’t be long now.”
    “Shouldn’t you be . . . training . . . practicing or something?”
    Mai smiled. “I doubt I will improve my abilities in a day or two.”
    “They say he’s their best. He will be no pushover, Mai.”
    She refrained from telling her sister that she did not expect to win. “He’s human. I have had nightmares far worse than anything any human could ever do to me.”
    Hibiki inclined his head. “Haven’t we all?”
    “I guess.” Chika looked between them as if searching out an answer. “But Dai told me he was a Ninja master, unbeaten. A devil.”
    “Everyone’s a Ninja.” Mai faked a laugh. “Or so it seems lately. You would think the brotherhood never really died out.”
    “Maybe it didn’t. That is actually the whole point of Ninjas. That you don’t even know they’re there.”
    Mai turned away quickly, again surveying the house. “I really think you two should consider buying this place. It’s lovely. And safe—for when the kids come.”
    Chika almost choked. “Kids? Whoa, give us chance. I haven’t lived my life yet.”
    “There are many who believe life truly begins when your first child is born.”
    “And I get that. But, hey, let’s cook supper first.”
    Chika and Hibiki led her toward the large dwelling. Grace looped her arm and skipped along, grinning at everything, including a bed of roses. Mai wondered briefly if she had eaten too much chocolate for lunch and then found herself back in the whole “kids” state of affairs. Was she visualizing Grace as her surrogate daughter?
    Later that night, she managed to draw Hibiki aside. “Did you hear anything about Emiko?”
    The Japanese policeman instantly darkened. “That window has long since closed,” he said. “Where we might save or rescue her. It is many weeks since she vanished from our custody, as you know. I’m sorry, Mai, but I wouldn’t expect to hear anything relating to Emiko again.”
    “She could turn up.”
    “Do any of them ever turn up? Do you ever hear of children or adults who vanish on the streets—who are sold into slavery or work gangs or