I handed back the Uzi. Now what?
"It's freezing in here." She shivered from the cold, then pointed down. "You know, all the wiring must be underneath this raised floor. There's no way to even know where the power conduit is, let alone reach it."
"Okay, guess we'll just have to start ripping . . ."
My heart skipped a beat. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I finally noticed what I should have seen immediately. Lying atop the big computation module was a thin, four-foot- long bundle, swathed in silk.
So there's where he decided to put it—in the one room that would always be locked. Or maybe he thought it should be kept in the most powerful location on the premises.
I reached up and retrieved it, then pulled away the silk. The blade had just been freshly oiled, and it literally glistened in the dim light. It was every bit as razor-sharp as the day it had been consecrated eight hundred years ago at the zenith of samurai metallurgy.
Guess Noda knew a prize when he saw it. And this katana was definitely a one-of-a-kind piece—an Old Sword, koto, from the Sanjo branch of the Yamashiro school of swordsmiths, late Heian. Signed by Munechika, said to have fashioned samurai swords for the Shogun Minamoto Yoritomo himself, the man who destroyed the Imperial forces at Dan-no-ura. No wonder Noda had treated it with special reverence.
"Welcome." I held it up.
"Why do you suppose he put it in here?" She was admiring it too.
"You know, I think I understand. But it's the kind of thing that can't be explained in words."