Free The Samurai Inheritance by James Douglas

be. But he sensed that the crash of the flying machine and the death of their king would make the yelopela soldiers more murderous than usual, and, in any case, the treasure fascinated him. He would continue, he decided, and lure them away from the longhouse until he decided what to do.
    The patch of thick jungle was like a hundred others and he had no idea why it attracted him. He burrowed deep in its centre with the treasure under his arm and the sounds of the hunters closing in. Once he was settled, Kristian closed his eyes and sought to make himself as insignificant as possible. When the sonorous voice began to echo inside his head it seemed entirely natural and proper.
    Not far away, he could hear the yelopelas blundering through the brush, crushing twigs and leaves underfoot and making more noise than the wild pigs he often hunted. Sometimes he could smell them – the yelopelas – before he could see them. They perspired freely in the sultry jungle conditions and the scent of their bodies was acrid in his nostrils, along with the rice-cooking odour they carried with them. But the sounds in closest proximity were much stealthier: the soft, wary treads of a barefoot hunter. The Black Dogs were almost upon him.
    You must trust in me , the voice of his long-dead grandfather advised. I will be the cloak that shields you from the yelopelas and their Hat Men. Hold the treasure of their king to your chest and sing me the song of the fire dance that was never sung and without which I will never be at peace .
    At first, Kristian found the advice perplexing. Logic told him his grandfather was long dead and to make a noise would be fatal. The old man had been killed in a blood feud that had only ended, according to family tradition, when the jemeni polis hanged three members of each clan from the same tree. Kristian’s mother, the queen, had always preached respect for their ancestors, but it was the mention of Hat Men that convinced him to comply with the old man’s wishes. The Hat Men had been the Black Dogs of the jemeni polis in the days before yelopelas and Big War, but they had not been generally spoken of since long before Kristian was born.
    Sing , the voice insisted, and I will sing with you .
    In the sultry depths of the bush Kristian closed his eyes and the rhythm of the ceremonial drums filled his head, the click of wood on wood sharp and rapid. He could feel the flames all around him, could see their flicker as if through the eye slits of a ceremonial mask. The drone of the fire dance song filled his throat and his grandfather’s strong voice echoed his, the sound spiralling around the jungle grove where it hung like a protective fence against the outside world. As he sang, Kristian Anugu’s fingers worked at the straps of the yelopela king’s treasure and removed a thin sheet from within. On it were strange scratchings that looked like a five-toed bird had danced across a sandbank. Kristian knew this was how the outsiders communicated with their gods.
    Now you understand , his grandfather whispered. But there is another task you must fulfil before I am freed .
    The drone died in Kristian’s chest and he blinked as if he were waking to a new day. Birds twittered in the bushes around him and their voices told him he was alone. An intense sense of release made him want to leap in the air in imitation of the fire dance, but it was immediately overwhelmed by the responsibility he had felt when he replaced the god words in their leather kes . He ran a hand over the rough surface and nodded to himself. Yes, he understood everything.

IX
    Jamie was staring out of the hotel window over the oily waters of the Spree when his cell phone chirped. The vibrate setting made it dance across the bedside table and he had to grab it before it fell. He studied the small screen. The incoming number wasn’t one the phone recognized.
    ‘Yes,’ he said tentatively.
    ‘Mr Saintclair?’ The female voice surprised him and his heart