Free Caribbean Rain by Rick Murcer Page A

stare for a moment, then was compelled to glide the fifteenth century Koto Katana sword from its resting place. The ivory handle had been restored and the gold inlaid inscriptions running down the blade were almost as bright and colorful as the day they were created.
    The hilt was curved in the classic two-handed custom of that era and it felt like it belonged in his hands. There was a sense of oneness he could barely comprehend, but it didn’t matter. Love is never predictable or understood; it just is. And make no mistake—he loved this blade like a man loved his new bride.
    He tenderly fingered the inscription. He’d spent long hours researching and growing in understanding of each message and the incredible culture behind the craftsman, known as Ippo, who’d built this blade. He knew that it had all of its dimensions recorded in the inscription and how rare a six-fold carbon construction was. The legends surrounding the forging of this weapon included the adding of human blood in the molding method. All very interesting, but not as interesting as the cutting tests. The tester of this blade had accomplished a rare feat with this particular sword. It was called a two-body cut. The tester had successfully cut clean through two living human bodies, according to the inscription, in an attempt to reveal the quality of construction the Katana possessed. Closing his eyes, he could picture the test being accomplished. He felt himself swoon with emotion.
    “What a seal of approval that must have been,” he whispered. “If only I’d been there.”
    He brought the blade to his face. The aroma of old ivory and steel caused him to close his eyes in pure ecstasy. This instrument, this lover of justice and vengeance, would accompany him on the next step of his purging mission. If the defilers of his rainforest wouldn’t leave El Yunque, the blood of the sacrifices would be on the hands of the bureaucrats that let them in, not on his.
    Thrusting the sword in the air, turning two perfect pirouettes, he stopped in a striking pose as gracefully as any dancer. He then placed the sword back in its home, laughing out loud as he did. It was getting late in the afternoon, and as much as he wanted, perhaps needed, to visit the rainforest and teach another lesson, he’d get an early start at dawn. After all, morning surprises were always the best. They radiated a semblance of Christmas morning, and who didn’t appreciate Christmas morning? Besides, he loved being the bearer of surprises. Who knew, after a few more bodies, maybe the government would shut down public access to his rainforest. He sighed. It wouldn’t be for a while, he suspected, because humans are innately stupid. Of course, law enforcement would have to make its usual ridiculous attempt to figure out what was going on and to capture the immoral person responsible for the murder of innocents.
    He felt his blood instantly boil, his heart rate climb. There was no justice for his mother and certainly hadn’t been any for El Yunque over the years. He knew that double standards and concepts of right and wrong prevailed in this age. But they hadn’t counted on someone like him. He would win. He would change perceptions. Nevertheless, he’d begun to leave them clues, a fighting chance to meet him. Something his rainforest, and his mother, no longer had.

Chapter-15
     
    “Perhaps I’ve not made myself clear,” spoke Randall Fogerty, leaning on the counter of the car rental office. “I need the limo I always rent when I come to San Juan.”
    The attendant stepped back, eyes widening to the sweet venom in his voice. But she repeated what she’d said a moment earlier, her Latino accent heightened by stress. “I’m sorry, sir, that vehicle is reserved, and I cannot give it to you. I hope you understand. It’s our policy.”
    He leaned closer and spoke softer. “What’s your name?”
    “Evita, sir.”
    “Ah. That means life, yes?”
    “Yes sir, it does.”
    Her