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section7mfuThis has to be in two parts as the story was just a little too long for a single post, very frustrating...
“The serenity of a Zen garden is reflected in the balancing of the elements in an auspicious manner, allowing them to flow with the both heaven and earth. Feng shui in Chinese...a system of geomancy believed to use the laws of both heaven and earth to help one improve life by receiving positive qi. The Tao of heaven and earth,” the Russian said to his partner when they first entered the green haven.
“We’re in Japan, if you’ve forgotten.” Napoleon quipped, as the two of them sat together on a small stone bench, most likely used by visitors for meditation.
“Feng shui is used around the world, and is not proprietary to the Chinese...and neither is Buddhism.”
“All right, partner mine, I have to admit you lost me at geomancy.”
“It is a divination from configurations seen in a handful of earth thrown on the ground, or by interpreting lines or textures on the ground.” Illya gave a rather textbook explanation.
The American screwed up his face still looking a little bewildered. He knew better than to ask more questions as his Russian friend was notorious for his lectures, especially when it was a subject that interested him. He watched his partner’s fascination as he stared out at the garden and had to admit, there was a definite sense of calm to the place.
It was tranquil bit of serenity in the middle of a hectic Japanese city, hidden away from the hustle, bustle and traffic of the busy streets. Their respite was brief, though, as the beautiful gardens were disturbed not long after they’d sought refuge there.
Twenty minutes later Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin were running through the delicate spirals that had been drawn in the sand, surrounding the carefully placed volcanic rocks, the trees and bits of green that seemed like tiny islands.
Their footprints despoiled the tranquility of the simple designs as the two agents ran for their lives, not caring that they created a path of destruction in this oasis, carefully tended by Buddhist monks, day in and day out.
Finding an alternate path was the furthest thing from their minds at the moment, as carried in Kuryakin’s arms was a small statue of a Buddha carved in stone...a childlike image. It was heavier than it looked and he was struggling with the weight.
They ran to escape the Yakuza, who’d stolen it from the Buddhist temple of Myōō-in, one of the national treasures of Japan. The U.N.C.L.E. agents in turn, stole it from them and these thugs wanted it back...badly.
“Why would the Yakuza steal a stone statue, when there were so many other gold ones in the temple?” Napoleon muttered as they crossed a small footbridge, following the path through the gardens to the main gate, leading them out to the real world, the city streets of Fukuyama, in Hiroshima, Japan.
They paused briefly at the Toiri gate before moving into the street, crowded with innocents, looking quickly to get their bearings. as they needed to get the waterfront, where fellow agent Hideaki Matsushita awaited them with a boat to take them first to Kobe. There, they’d disembark and travel by land to Tokyo, and to UNCLE headquarters.
Once safe, the precious Buddha would be turned over to the Tokyo Museum acting as mediator for the government. The Yakuza would be the police departments problem to deal with or not once the statue was back in safe hands.
Shots were fired from behind them, sending the innocent passersby into a mass panic, scrambling for cover as the Yakuza ran after the escaping Gaijin_ white men.
“Shitsureishimasu. Watashi no futegiwa o yurushitekudasai_I beg your pardon. Please forgive my clumsiness.”
“Come on!” Napoleon yelled, “No time for pleasantries.
“Kono hōhōde wa_this way,” the man offered, seeing their predicament. He directed them inside his establishment, opening a trap door in the floor.
The shop was filled with all sorts of statuary and antiques and there Illya spotted a near perfect replica of the statue they’d rescued.
“Watashi wa arimasu_may I?” He pointed to the Buddha.
“Hai, if it will help you with your troubles with the gokudō.” That was what the locals called the Yakuza.The man was obviously familiar with the ancient organized crime syndicates of Japan.Tthe Yakuza called themselves ninkyō dantai_ chivalrous organizations. Yet in spite of their idealistic view of themselves, they were notorious for their strict codes of conduct, their violent organized nature, and were feared by many.
“These are members of the the Yamaguchi-gumi, the biggest Yakuza family. From its headquarters in Kobe, they direct criminal activities throughout Japan.
Illya passed the real statue to his partner. “Both of you get into the basement, I will surrender the look-alike, and hopefully it will fool them.”
Napoleon cradling the real Buddha in his arms, reluctantly stepped down the stairs with the shopkeeper, closing the trap door behind them. Illya quickly kicked an Oriental rug in place hiding the opening from view.
Minutes later, the Yamaguchi-gumi came crashing into the shop, grabbing the statue from Illya’s hands. He raised them up in surrender saying to them...”Anata ga hoshī mono o motte iru. Ima iku_you have what you want. Now go.”
"So your friend abandoned you to your fate. Kumicho Taoka will take pleasure in punishing you for your thievery.” One of them pistol whipped him, and another pair dragged him out the door to a waiting car.
By the time Napoleon was able to get out of the basement, the Yakuza and Illya were gone.
“You said their headquarters was in Kobe?”
“Hai. It is where the head of their family, Kumicho Taoka is. I am sorry to say this but I think your friend will not live long enough for you to find him.”
“We’ll see about that,”Napoleon winked at him. He pulled his communicator. “Channel F- Matushita.”
“Napoleon where are the two of you?”
“Not far, Illya’s been taken by the Yakuza. They’re heading to see the head of their family in Kobe. You have any idea where it is?”
“I know exactly where it is. Did they get the statue?”
“No, we switched it for a fake. I still have the real one.”
“Get here as quick, we’ve got 89 nm to cover. When did they take him?”
“Fifteen minutes ago.”
“Then we have a good chance of beating them there if they go by land.”
As Napoleon and Matsushita cast off the mooring lines of the sampan, modified by U.N.C.L.E. research and development to motor at high speeds, they spotted a wooden hulled ‘Hacker-Craft’ sport boat move quickly past them with Yakuza and Illya seated on a bench in the stern. It was a race against time for the agents, heading after the speedboat to Kobe before the Yakuza could do anything to Illya. Once they found out the statue was a fake, they would surely be none too gentle with the Russian in trying to find out where the real Buddha was.
They arrived not long after the Yakuza boat, tying off their sampan, and making their way on foot to the family compound. Not surprisingly, it was surrounded by high walls, with the tops of trees seen towering above them from the inside.
A car approached, and was stopped at the gate, giving Napoleon a brief glimpse of a blond head in the back seat.
“At least we know he’s still alive,” the American whispered.
“Yes, my friend, but for how long?”
“You really didn’t need to remind me of that did you, Hideaki?”
“Sorry boss, but it’s true.”
“The serenity of a Zen garden is reflected in the balancing of the elements in an auspicious manner, allowing them to flow with the both heaven and earth. Feng shui in Chinese...a system of geomancy believed to use the laws of both heaven and earth to help one improve life by receiving positive qi. The Tao of heaven and earth,” the Russian said to his partner when they first entered the green haven.
“We’re in Japan, if you’ve forgotten.” Napoleon quipped, as the two of them sat together on a small stone bench, most likely used by visitors for meditation.
“Feng shui is used around the world, and is not proprietary to the Chinese...and neither is Buddhism.”
“All right, partner mine, I have to admit you lost me at geomancy.”
“It is a divination from configurations seen in a handful of earth thrown on the ground, or by interpreting lines or textures on the ground.” Illya gave a rather textbook explanation.
The American screwed up his face still looking a little bewildered. He knew better than to ask more questions as his Russian friend was notorious for his lectures, especially when it was a subject that interested him. He watched his partner’s fascination as he stared out at the garden and had to admit, there was a definite sense of calm to the place.
It was tranquil bit of serenity in the middle of a hectic Japanese city, hidden away from the hustle, bustle and traffic of the busy streets. Their respite was brief, though, as the beautiful gardens were disturbed not long after they’d sought refuge there.
Twenty minutes later Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin were running through the delicate spirals that had been drawn in the sand, surrounding the carefully placed volcanic rocks, the trees and bits of green that seemed like tiny islands.
Their footprints despoiled the tranquility of the simple designs as the two agents ran for their lives, not caring that they created a path of destruction in this oasis, carefully tended by Buddhist monks, day in and day out.
Finding an alternate path was the furthest thing from their minds at the moment, as carried in Kuryakin’s arms was a small statue of a Buddha carved in stone...a childlike image. It was heavier than it looked and he was struggling with the weight.
They ran to escape the Yakuza, who’d stolen it from the Buddhist temple of Myōō-in, one of the national treasures of Japan. The U.N.C.L.E. agents in turn, stole it from them and these thugs wanted it back...badly.
“Why would the Yakuza steal a stone statue, when there were so many other gold ones in the temple?” Napoleon muttered as they crossed a small footbridge, following the path through the gardens to the main gate, leading them out to the real world, the city streets of Fukuyama, in Hiroshima, Japan.
They paused briefly at the Toiri gate before moving into the street, crowded with innocents, looking quickly to get their bearings. as they needed to get the waterfront, where fellow agent Hideaki Matsushita awaited them with a boat to take them first to Kobe. There, they’d disembark and travel by land to Tokyo, and to UNCLE headquarters.
Once safe, the precious Buddha would be turned over to the Tokyo Museum acting as mediator for the government. The Yakuza would be the police departments problem to deal with or not once the statue was back in safe hands.
Shots were fired from behind them, sending the innocent passersby into a mass panic, scrambling for cover as the Yakuza ran after the escaping Gaijin_ white men.
As Illya turned, looking back at their pursuers, he ploughed into a man, knocking him over. Even though he and Napoleon were in the middle of being chased, he stopped to help him up, offering a hand and bowing to him apologetically, speaking in Japanese.
“Shitsureishimasu. Watashi no futegiwa o yurushitekudasai_I beg your pardon. Please forgive my clumsiness.”
“Come on!” Napoleon yelled, “No time for pleasantries.
“Kono hōhōde wa_this way,” the man offered, seeing their predicament. He directed them inside his establishment, opening a trap door in the floor.
The shop was filled with all sorts of statuary and antiques and there Illya spotted a near perfect replica of the statue they’d rescued.
“Watashi wa arimasu_may I?” He pointed to the Buddha.
“Hai, if it will help you with your troubles with the gokudō.” That was what the locals called the Yakuza.The man was obviously familiar with the ancient organized crime syndicates of Japan.Tthe Yakuza called themselves ninkyō dantai_ chivalrous organizations. Yet in spite of their idealistic view of themselves, they were notorious for their strict codes of conduct, their violent organized nature, and were feared by many.
“These are members of the the Yamaguchi-gumi, the biggest Yakuza family. From its headquarters in Kobe, they direct criminal activities throughout Japan.
Illya passed the real statue to his partner. “Both of you get into the basement, I will surrender the look-alike, and hopefully it will fool them.”
Napoleon cradling the real Buddha in his arms, reluctantly stepped down the stairs with the shopkeeper, closing the trap door behind them. Illya quickly kicked an Oriental rug in place hiding the opening from view.
Minutes later, the Yamaguchi-gumi came crashing into the shop, grabbing the statue from Illya’s hands. He raised them up in surrender saying to them...”Anata ga hoshī mono o motte iru. Ima iku_you have what you want. Now go.”
"So your friend abandoned you to your fate. Kumicho Taoka will take pleasure in punishing you for your thievery.” One of them pistol whipped him, and another pair dragged him out the door to a waiting car.
By the time Napoleon was able to get out of the basement, the Yakuza and Illya were gone.
“You said their headquarters was in Kobe?”
“Hai. It is where the head of their family, Kumicho Taoka is. I am sorry to say this but I think your friend will not live long enough for you to find him.”
“We’ll see about that,”Napoleon winked at him. He pulled his communicator. “Channel F- Matushita.”
“Napoleon where are the two of you?”
“Not far, Illya’s been taken by the Yakuza. They’re heading to see the head of their family in Kobe. You have any idea where it is?”
“I know exactly where it is. Did they get the statue?”
“No, we switched it for a fake. I still have the real one.”
“Get here as quick, we’ve got 89 nm to cover. When did they take him?”
“Fifteen minutes ago.”
“Then we have a good chance of beating them there if they go by land.”
As Napoleon and Matsushita cast off the mooring lines of the sampan, modified by U.N.C.L.E. research and development to motor at high speeds, they spotted a wooden hulled ‘Hacker-Craft’ sport boat move quickly past them with Yakuza and Illya seated on a bench in the stern. It was a race against time for the agents, heading after the speedboat to Kobe before the Yakuza could do anything to Illya. Once they found out the statue was a fake, they would surely be none too gentle with the Russian in trying to find out where the real Buddha was.
They arrived not long after the Yakuza boat, tying off their sampan, and making their way on foot to the family compound. Not surprisingly, it was surrounded by high walls, with the tops of trees seen towering above them from the inside.
A car approached, and was stopped at the gate, giving Napoleon a brief glimpse of a blond head in the back seat.
“At least we know he’s still alive,” the American whispered.
“Yes, my friend, but for how long?”
“You really didn’t need to remind me of that did you, Hideaki?”
“Sorry boss, but it’s true.”
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