Nanking, 1937.
Amidst a grand guignol of violence and pillaging, Captain Hojo sat on a heap of loot taller than a man, a fat bladed dao with a jeweled hilt laid across his knees. Beneath him: antique furniture, gold and silver, wine and rare spirits. There was a Mercedes in there somewhere, half buried under a massive bolt of silk. A pair of kempeitai goons came in with a crate of pure morphine and left it at the base of the pile.
The Captain leaned forward and grinned at a trio of Imperial Japanese Army privates.
- Katoki the gambler, in need of money
- Suzuki the addict, looking for his next fix
- Takeo the glutton, always hungry
“You louts are going to do a job for me. There’s a temple near the Purple Mountain. Inside is a special cup. It’s made of a big piece of jade and shaped like a dragon skull. You’re going to get the cup for me.
Anything else you find in the temple is yours, you can keep it. I’ll keep the others out so you’ll have the place to yourself.
Go!”
To refuse the Captain would be unwise.
Without wasting time on preamble, the three Privates made haste for the iron gates of the Temple of the Crying Buddha.