The Panda Assassin

The Way of the Expert Community

We had a bomb scare at the fortress this afternoon. A suspicious package was found in the munitions store. It was suspicious because it did not look like a big bag of things that go bang.

Fortunately, Honoured Master Utsubo, our resident explosives expert in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu on Never Cutting the Red Wire, was on hand. He quickly verified that it was an improvised explosive device, had the room cleared of all ordnance and prepared to carry out a controlled explosion.

Then Brother Wakasagi, our Chief Blog Guru, got involved. (Actually, I don't remember the Order ever appointing a Chief Blog Guru but he insists that's what he is.) Brother Wakasagi stopped Honoured Master Utsubo's work, saying: "Man, you are sooooooo last century. Before we do anything else we should consult the online community."

Honoured Master Utsubo replied: "Why? This is a bomb. We need to detonate it in a controlled fashion."

Brother Wakasagi: "That's only one opinion. I suggest we involve e-experts worldwide to open our minds to other possibilities. Perhaps we do not have to blow up the bomb."

Before Honoured Master Utsubo could insert his spanner into Brother Wakasagi's I/O port, Honoured Mistress Moroko, our Head of Ninja Facilitation Facilities, stepped in: "Does this mean we could save money on repairs? I think we should listen to our Chief Blog Guru."

"But," said Honoured Master Utsubo, "I have trained all my life to render explosives safe. I have studied the most arcane Ninjitsu texts on the subject.  Since I was five years old I have been defusing bombs. My father used to throw them at me: happy times... "

As he reminisced about his childhood, Brother Wakasagi piped up: "Well, according to the How To Defuse Bombs Blog, we should cut the red wire. There are 27 comments that agree. And four that say cut the green one. One comment says you can make your penis bigger but it does not elaborate."

Honoured Master Utsubo exploded (not literally). "That is rubbish. Only in Hollywood movies do people cut wires. The only way to make this thing safe is to detonate it in a controlled way."

Brother Wakasagi said: "Well, I've found 34 online experts who disagree. The net is like a giant brain and it disagrees with your old-fashioned, narrow thinking. Who are you to dictate whose point of view is valid?"

Honoured Mistress Moroko then spoke: "Brother Wakasagi's argument is powerful, particularly if I can save 30 Yuan from my budget by not redecorating the room."

Other directors of the Order who had appeared agreed with her. Brother Wakasagi then picked up a pair of pliers. He approached the bomb. And Honoured Master Utsubo started running.

Our Chief Blog Guru saw the old ninja go and shouted: "Lolz, n00b, move with the times, you dinosaur."

Those were his last words. We were going to dig Honoured Mistress Moroko out of the ruins of the west wing but Honoured Masters Toro and Hamzo, who had been absent, told us that we should not be hasty and a full cost-benefit analysis should be undertaken before any rescue.

The Way of the Watt

I encountered Adept Hoshi-garei in the Lotus Garden this afternoon. This is unusual as he works in technical development and is not usually seen in daylight. ("Technical development" are the pointy-heads who invent insane and dangerous gadgets for the ninjas of the Order. They must not be confused with the IT workers who run our computer system as the gadgets sometimes work.)

Adept Hoshi-garei was elated. I could tell that by the way he nearly raised his eyes from the ground when he spoke to me. That and the fact he was extravagantly chewing a pen rather than his normal pencil.

"Adept Wasabi," he intoned. "For 33 years I have been working on a portable device to create power by causing excitation in liquid through the application of heat. And today, after many frustrations and doubts, I have finally created a working prototype. Would you like a bite of pen to celebrate?"

I declined his kind offer and listened as he described his device.

After a while, I chose my words carefully, in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu on The Way Of The Treading Softly On Dreams. "Adept Hoshi-garei," I whispered. "You do realise you've spent your entire working life struggling to invent the kettle, don't you?"

He did not reply but stood in silence. He's still there now, seven hours later. A dribble of ink dropping from his chin.

The Way of the Cup That Cheers

Today, I had cause to complain about the dreadful state of the green tea from the Order's canteen. I strode up to manager of the establishment and roared at her that the foul alleged liquid in the communal dispensing trough was almost as bad as drinking Budweiser.

"Honoured adept," she replied. "We don't have a communal dispensing trough. If you mean that item over there it's the men's urinal."

The Way of the Long Knife

There is more blood on the floor of the Order today. This time metaphorical. The HR department have been busy shaking out the well-paid, the old and the ones who crossed some moronic bureaucrat many moons ago.

Many honoured brethren are now seeking assassination opportunities elsewhere, in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu on the Way of the Involuntarily Outsourced.

Master Tetorododokishin, the head of the Ninja Change Management Section, tells us that by having fewer ninjas the order will be able to do its job better. But to me that sounds like the time Brother Niguri pasted fortune cookies into the Big Book of Zen Paradoxes.

No amount of platitudes about "lean", "streamlined" and "dead wood" can hide what is going on here. Cost-cutting is the first resort of the talentless.

The Way of the Blue Screen of Death

Sister Engawa rushed into the Basho Leisure Complex and Sports Bar this morning screaming: "There's been a murder. There's been a murder."

"Honoured Sister," I replied. "We are hired killers living in an ancient fortress filled with assassins, it would be worrying if there were not any murders."

"Shut it, bamboo face," she replied, not strictly in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu on The Way of the Respect for Minorities. "One of us has been murdered."

She was right. Master Shoku-chuudoku, the head of IT for the Order, was dead. Apparently, one of our number - who, no-one is quite sure - had lost some vital documentation when his supposedly hi-tech Ninja laptop crashed.  Master Shoku-chuudoku had told him that, in order to make the thing function, the perp had to "turn it off and turn it on again". Apparently, the data was still lost and the IT guru informed his attacker he should not have turned off his machine without saving the data. "But I could not save the data. The laptopn had crashed," replied the attacker. Master Shoku-chuudoku then retorted, perhaps unwisely: "Read the ******* manual, already."

We know all this because the account was written in Master Shoku-chuudoku's still warm blood around the walls of the main courtyard of our fortress.

Master Shoku-chuudoku was beaten to a pulp with a keyboard and then had a series of electronic components inserted into every imaginable part of his body. He was then connected to the mains and "rebooted".

Master O'konomi, our head pathologist, estimated that he was attacked where he was found in the main courtyard, it would have taken him seven hours to die and that his screams would have been audible for a distance of fourteen miles.

Nobody heard a thing. I certainly didn't, even when I had to step over Master Shoku-chuudoku on my way to the Executive Restroom.

The Way of the Dusty Shelf

I was hiding in the Library today, in accordance with the teachings of the Ninjitsu on The Way Of The Avoiding Of Taking Minutes At The Staff Forum.

While skulking behind a bust of Norman Wisdom (don't ask). I trod on a hidden button on the floor. A small panel opened behind me, revealing a tiny cupboard. I had discovered one of the Order's many hidden storage areas. These are used for hiding secret equipment, incriminating evidence, documents and - sometimes - people.

I knew that a silent alarm would have been triggered somewhere and that I would be in major trouble if caught.

But before I fled, a scrap of paper tucked in the corner caught my eye. It had a crest at the top with words underneath giving an address in the UK. It looked like "No. 11 Downey Street".

However, it was this phrase that caught my eye:  "Waiting is frustrating but I find solace in the fact that there has not been a day since 1994 when he has not unwittingly drunk my urine in his coffee."

Whatever can it mean?