The Windup Girl(127)

Another pause.

He nods at her to continue. She regains her composure, finishes translating. "She was destroyed according to requirements, rather than repatriated." The windup's dark eyes are on Kanya, steady, unblinking now, betraying nothing of the surprise she evinced a moment before.

Kanya watches the girl and the old man, two alien people. "And yet she apparently survived," she says finally.

"I was not the manager at the time," Yashimoto says. "I can only speak to what I know from our records."

"Records lie, apparently."

"You are correct. For this, there is no excuse. I am ashamed of what others have done, but I have no knowledge of the thing."

Kanya leans forward. "If you cannot tell me how she survived, then please, tell me how it is that this girl, capable of killing so many men in the space of heartbeats could come into this country. You tell me she is not military, but, to be direct, I'm having difficulty believing that she is not. This is a gross breach of our country's agreements."

Unexpectedly, the man's eyes crinkle with a smile. He picks up his tea and sips, considering the question, but the mirth does not leave his eyes, even as he finishes his tea. "This I can answer."

Without warning, he flings his cup at Hiroko's face. Kanya starts to cry out. The windup girl's hand blurs. The teacup smacks into her palm. The girl gapes at the cup in her hand, as surprised apparently, as Kanya.

The Japanese man gathers the folds of his kimono around himself. "All New Japanese are fast. You have mistaken the question to ask. How they use their innate qualities is a question of their training, not of their physical capabilities. Hiroko has been trained from birth to pace herself appropriately, with decorum."

He nods at her skin. "She is manufactured to have a porcelain skin and reduced pores, but it means she is subject to overheating. A military windup will not overheat, it is built to expend considerable energy without impact. Poor Hiroko here would die if she exerted herself like that over any significant amount of time. But all windups are potentially fast, it is in their genes." His tone becomes serious. "It is surprising though, that one has shaken off her training. Unwelcome news. New People serve us. It should not have happened."

"So your Hiroko here could do the same thing? Kill eight men? Armed ones?"

Hiroko jerks and looks at Yashimoto, dark eyes widening. He nods. Says something. His tone is gentle.

"Hai." She forgets to translate, then finds her words. "Yes. It is possible. Unlikely, but possible." She continues, "But it would take an extraordinary stimulus to do so. New People value discipline. Order. Obedience. We have a saying in Japan, 'New People are more Japanese than the Japanese.'"

Yashimoto places a hand on Hiroko's shoulder. "Circumstances would have to be extraordinary to make Hiroko into a killer." He smiles confidently. "This one you seek has fallen far from her proper place. You should destroy her before she can cause any more damage. We can provide assistance." He pauses. "Hiroko here can help you."

Kanya tries not to recoil, but her face gives her away.

* * *

"Captain Kanya, I do believe you're smiling."

Jaidee's phii is still with her, perched on the prow of the skiff as it cuts across the Chao Phraya's wide mouth on a stiff breeze. Spray blows through his form, leaving him unaffected, even though Kanya expects him to be drenched each time. She favors him with a smile, allowing her sense of well-being to reach out to him.

"Today, I did something good."

Jaidee grins. "I listened to both ends of the conversation. Akkarat and Narong were very impressed with you."

Kanya pauses. "You were with them as well?"

He shrugs. "I can go almost anywhere, it seems."

"Except on to your next life."

He shrugs again and smiles. "I still have work here."

"Harassing me, you mean." But her words have no venom. Under the warm light of the setting sun, with the city opening before her and waves splashing against her boat's hull as they cut across the water, Kanya can only be grateful that the conversation went so well. Even as she was talking to Narong, they were issuing orders to their people to pull back. She heard the radio announcement go out. They would meet with the December 12 loyalists. The beginning of a stand-down. If the Japanese had not been so willing to take the blame for their rogue windup, it might have been different. But reparations were already being offered and Pracha was exonerated by the copious documentation the Japanese offered, and for once, all things were turning out well.

Kanya can't help but feel a measure of pride. Wearing the yoke of two patrons has finally paid off. She wonders if it is kamma that places her so that she can bridge the gap between General Pracha and Minister Akkarat for the good of Krung Thep. Certainly, no one else could have pierced the barriers of face and pride that the two men and their factions had erected.

Jaidee is still grinning at her. "Imagine the things our country could accomplish if we were not always fighting one another."

In a burst of optimism, Kanya says, "Maybe anything is possible."

Jaidee laughs. "You still have a windup to catch."

Involuntarily, Kanya's eyes go to her own windup girl. Hiroko has folded her legs under her and gazes out at the city that is rapidly approaching, watching with curious eyes as they thread between clipper ships and sailing skiffs and kink-spring patrol boats. As if sensing Kanya's gaze, she turns. Their eyes lock. Kanya refuses to drop her gaze.