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Watching the flow of people； Tanya Vladimova cursed herself for firing prematurely。 But she had not known how long they were stopped for。 Further； just ten minutes ago her beeper had gone off； it was time for the drop into Japan。 She had not been ready for that； not when she was so close to her quarry。
Circumstances had conspired against her； they had manipulated her rather than the other way around。 Now； as she dismantled the Attlov…Sonigen 。385； stowing it in a partment beneath the carpeting of her car； she resigned herself。 Even had she not been on a time allotment she would not have been able to go after Alix Logan and Lewis Croaker。 Her link…up with ARRTS had digested the fingerprints she had lifted in Raleigh； had spat out his name： Too many people； too many cops。 More ing； more sirens。 Detectives' unmarked cars spreading the traffic like Moses heading out across the Red Sea。
Tanya turned her ignition and got out of there； heading uptown； through the Midtown Tunnel； out to the Long Island Expressway and Kennedy Airport。
She cleared her mind of what she had not been able to acplish here。 She accelerated into the left lane。 Not more than a mile later she was slowed by traffic that seemed to build up out of thin air。 She began to go over what she had to do next and in what order she must do it。
There was a pinpoint of light。 It was extremely annoying because it kept pricking into his brain in an odd kind of cadence。 Dum…tee…dum…tee…dum…dum。
Otherwise he was surrounded by the milky luminescence of getsumei no michi。 It should have been wholly opalescent and peaceful。 It would have been except for the pinpoint of light。 Dum…tee…dum…tee…dum…dum。
He tried to think of nothing。 That； at least； should have been easy。 He could not。 In vain he reached out for the Void； but each time he sought a clear path to it the pinpoint of light stood directly in his way。 He tried to push it aside； he could not。 He tried kiai； this； too； had no effect。 He had no strength left within him because the white pinpoint kept pricking his brain as if with electric shocks。 He could not think； could not concentrate； could not center himself。 If only he had his katana； if only he could remember where he had left Iss…hogai。
Dum…tee…dum…tee…dum…DUM。
〃Iss…hogai；〃 Nicholas murmured； strapped and sweating on Protorov's wheel。
〃What the hell is that？〃 Protorov wanted to know。 〃Koten？〃
〃It means； 'For life；'〃 the sumo said sullenly。 〃It sounds to me like a name of a samurai's katana。〃 He was not happy。 This process was tiresome。 He wanted to be left alone with Nicholas Linnear。 Five minutes would do nicely； he thought。 〃Although what a ninja would be doing with a samurai sword is beyond me。〃
〃It's his sword？〃 Protorov asked； missing nothing。 〃Russilov； did you confiscate such a weapon from him？〃
〃No； sir。〃
〃Did you see such a thing？〃
〃No； sir。〃
Protorov directed himself back to his client。 〃Nicholas；〃 he
asked in an entirely different tone of voice； 〃where is your katana？ Where is Iss…hogai？〃
DUM…TEE…DUM…TEE…DUM…DUM。
The pinpoint would not let him go； pincers inside his brain。 〃Ro…Rotenburo。〃
〃That's not good；〃 Koten said。 〃A samurai sword is its master's signature。 We don't want anyone picking it up and asking questions about it。〃
Protorov nodded as if he had already thought of that。 〃Go and get it； Koten；〃 he said。
〃If you bring it back here； there's a chance he'll be able to get his hands on it；〃 the sumo warned。
〃That won't matter at all。〃 Protorov considered options。 〃Tell me； is he right… or left…handed？〃
Koten moved closer to Nicholas； observing the layers of callus along the bottom edge of either hand。 〃Right； I would say。〃
〃Break the first three fingers of that hand。〃
Koten was overjoyed to do。it。 Almost lovingly he reached out and grasped the index finger of Nicholas' right hand。 He undid the strap； then snapped the digit sideways。 Nicholas groaned； his body shook。 Sweat rolled off him like water scrolling from a swimmer。
Twice more Koten unstrapped a finger and went to work on it。 Twice more Nicholas groaned and jerked。 He was drenched。 His head hung； chin on heaving chest。 The doctor stepped in and checked his pulse； his blood pressure。
〃Now go and do as I've ordered；〃 Protorov said to Koten。 〃You will save us the possibility of embarrassment and he will only be able to look at his weapon longingly。〃
When Koten was gone； Protorov dug out the papers his spy had stolen from the Tenshin Shoden Katori ryu。 He stared at Nicholas' right hand hanging by the straps at two fingers and wrist。 Already the broken digits were swollen like sausages； the flesh was darkening。
〃How will the pain affect him？〃 he asked the doctor。
〃It should rouse him a bit。〃
〃Will it interfere with cerebration at all？〃
〃With him； I would say no； definitely not。〃
Protorov nodded and； reaching out； took a handful of Nicholas' wet hair。 He picked up the head； slapping at the cheeks until the eyelids fluttered open。 Then he shoved the first page of coded text in front of the bleary…eyed face。
〃Focus；〃 he manded in a soft voice。 〃Something here for you to read； Nicholas。 Something you'll enjoy。〃
Nicholas frowned。 Deep down he felt a terrible aching； a trident； its tines coated with poison； lancing into him。 It seemed very far away； however； as if； even； it might be part of a dream or an hallucination。
It seemed important to focus so he tried to do so。 He seemed to be swimming through viscous gas。 He could not fathom how he was breathing the stuff because it was obvious that he could not move through it。 He flailed and stayed still。 Or was it that he only thought he was flailing。
Black and white； breaking up； coalescing； only to dissolve once more。
〃Focus；〃 came the mand from the bright pinpoint which seemed directly inside his brain。 So he thought he would do that。 Focus。
Characters swimming by him like schools of fish； like a forest's underbrush； like tongues of fire； like the hissing rain。 It was pouring。 Pouring letters。
Not letters。 Ideograms。
He read。 And came face to face with that which he had sought for so long。 Tenchi。
〃Three years ago。。。 Hare Maru lost at sea in violent typhoon 。。。 over fifty lives lost。。。 sailors and civilians。。。 greatest marine disaster in twenty…five years。。。。 Therefore underwater salvage operations begun immediately the weather cleared at spot of last radio message： Nemuro Straits。〃
He pushed the dulled pain away from him； sealing it off； he closed an inner door on the white pinpoint： dum…tee…dum…t。。。
Quiet。 He moved out of getsumei no michi； which had been no shelter at all； and therefore of no use to him。 He menced to still himself； beginning with his fingertips； a number of which； for some reason； he could not feel。 Rising inward； the moon lifting into the cloudy heavens； its bright； clear face reflecting in unending undulations。
Thus he began to pull himself together； centering slowly； despite the enormous amount of chemicals inside him。 While he began the difficult process of breaking them down into harmless ponents which would then be flushed out…a ninjutsu art known as Ogawa…no…jutsu…he did precisely what Protorov was aski