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t you started on this？〃
〃Redman；〃 Fortuitous Chiu said。 〃Charles Percy Redman。 She used his name。 Know him？〃
Nangi thought for a moment。 〃Shipping tai…pan； yes？ British fellow。 Family goes way back in Hong Kong。〃
〃That's Redman；〃 Fortuitous Chiu acknowledged。 〃But what almost no one else knows is that he's an agent for Her Majesty's Government。〃
〃Redman a spy？ Madonna！〃 Nangi was genuinely shocked。 〃But what's his connection to Succulent Pien？ Is she somehow raiding him？〃
〃Looks that way； doesn't it？〃
This is all very interesting； Nangi thought。 But how does any of it help me with the munists？ My time is running out。 If I don't give Liu an affirmative by phone by six tonight； the deal's off。 I've got no capital； the All…Asia will fail and； eventually； so will the keiretsu。
〃Is there more？〃 he asked。
〃Not until I climb into bed with Succulent Pien and see what she's got between her thighs。〃
〃It's a pillow like all the rest；〃 Nangi observed tartly。 〃I need something before six。〃
〃This evening？〃 Fortuitous Chiu's eyes opened wide。 〃No way； Jose。 She's home and not going anywhere。 She had her amah go shopping for her。 I think she's whipping up a midnight snack for a friend。 Early tomorrow morning's the best I can do。 I'm sorry。〃
Nangi signed deeply。 〃Not nearly as much； I'm afraid； as I am。〃
Night。 The drip…drop of rain pattering all around them。 The sky was black and impenetrable save for a tiny patch； a nacreous gray behind which the full moon rode as ghostly as the face of a former lover。 The warm water moved in minute wavelets up to their bare flesh； reflections of the swinging yellow lanterns in the trees behind them in a white spangle； diffused and softened to a rich glow by the stream rising all about them。
A double strand of manmade lights； curved like a string of lustrous pearls around the neck of an exotic African princess； showed the way toward a black humpbacked shadow rising out of the undulating land。 And behind its bulk must be the sea； for Nicholas could already scent the salt tang。
Sato stirred beside Nicholas； sending soft ripples away from them both。 〃Out there；〃 he said softly； 〃tell me that sight is not one of the most beautiful in the world； a sight that makes Japan unique。〃
Nicholas followed the direction； saw the steep falloff of the cliffs down to the Pacific and on its heaving bosom the rhythmic bobbing of tiny orange lanterns hung from the prows and the sterns of the squid boats as their masters and crews bent to their task。
〃They seem as small and fleeting as fireflies；〃 Nicholas said。 His eyes were somnolent。 It had been a long； hard day full of anxiety and fear for his friend's life。 And now the hot water was working its magic on his tensed body； loosening his knotted muscles； the cords in his neck and shoulders relaxing； the day's accumulated tension leeching away from him。
It was not that his anxiety about allowing Sato to e had disappeared entirely。 But with him here and Koten guarding the front of the rotenburo； he felt more confident than he had at the outset。
Sato luxuriated in feeling good。 He stretched his long legs outward into the gently swirling water； sighing deeply with the sense of well…being this spa engendered in him。
It was then he felt something against his left calf； soft and warm； bumping； bumping； bumping with an odd kind of insistence。
Languidly； he leaned forward； imagining himself a crane gliding through the currents of a narrow inlet to the sea。 His searching fingers grasped what felt at first like a bed of seaweed。 Curious； Sato drew it upward slowly。 It had great weight。
The rain let up。 Racing clouds became visible as the lanterns' glow illuminated their billowing undersides。 Now they slid apart and the cool； opalescent light of the pocked moon crowned the silhouette of what he dragged upward from the steaming water。
Sato's muscles bulged with the effort and he was obliged to use his hands even with Nicholas helping him； struggling with the monstrously heavy thing that now fell across his legs beneath the water。
Slowly it rose like a specter out of the deep； and Nicholas made a sharp movement beside him； grunting。
〃Oh； Buddha！〃 Sato whispered。 His hands shook so much that droplets flew from the thing like rain； off the great tiger curving around one shoulder； flung down the muscular back； the extended talons of the rear paws indented along the buckled ridge of the spine。 Movement as if the colored tattoo had e alive。
〃Oh；what have they done to you； Phoenix？〃 Sato cried softly。
Those eyes； milky and unseeing in death； fixed him as the bloated face rose； glittering in the moonlight； the teeth clamped together in pain and determination。
Akiko was thinking about the promise she had made to Saigo。 Or； more precisely； to Saigo's kami。
She rolled over on her futon； passing ah arm across her eyes。 Red light blotted out the darkness。 Giri。 It bound her like steel manacles。 Not for the first time； she found herself wishing that she had not been born Japanese。 How free it must be to be American or English； and not feel gin。 Because Akiko knew that if she did not feel giri she would not be bound by it。 But she was Japanese。 Samurai blood flowed through her veins。 Oh； not the blood of the famed Ofuda。 She had chosen that name upon her majority for much the same reason that Justine had chosen to call herself Tobin instead of Tomkin； she wished to conceal her past。
But had there ever been a time when she had thought of herself as Akiko Shimada？ She did not even know her mother's last name。 In Fuyajo only given names were used； and oftentimes those were not real ones。 Ikan。 Had her mother been born with that name？ Had she taken it inside Fuyajo？ Or； what was just as likely； had those who ran the Castle That Knows No Night assigned it to her？
She put her hands down between her thighs； cupping herself。 She could still feel the aftertremors； the expansion of her inner flesh that Nicholas' stroking had caused。 She would never be the same now。 And； terrifyingly； was not sure that she wanted to be。
Then what of her vow？ Revenge had shaped so much of her life； had given her purpose when she thought that she had none。 Without the solace of revenge to warm her soul； she might have withered and died。 Those who had driven her out of Fuyajo were long dead； put to endless sleep as she hovered over them in the night。 But they were old men； and that was not true justice as she saw it。 She could do nothing about their longevity； to her way of thinking they had seen the procession of too many days。 Still she had avenged herself。
Life must have a shape。 Revenge was her destiny。 She must have been someone evil in a previous life； she had thought； for her karma in this one to be so unremitting。
Now Nicholas Linnear threatened that dark harmony。 She supposed that she had known it from the moment she had first seen him in person at Jan Jan。 He had melted a heart she had thought made of granite and ice。 She thought in her arrogance that she was beyond love。
She was wrong。
As she wept on her futon in the otherwise deserted house of her husband and her prey； she beseeched the Amida Buddha only for absolution and de