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roaker； within Nicholas' orbit； had learned those definitions and had chosen to be Nicholas' friend。
They had promised each other that after Croaker returned from Key West and finally wrapped up the Angela Didion murder； they
would go fishing for blues or shark off Montauk。 Now that would never happen。 Croaker was dead； and Nicholas missed him with a fierceness that was almost physical pain。
He knew that he should clear his mind in preparation for what was waiting for him at the top of the stairs but he could not get the memory of his friend out of his mind。 What turned out to be their final good…bye was a poignant moment full of the kind of hushed feeling two Japanese friends might express。
They had been at Michita； the Japanese restaurant in midtown Nicholas frequented。 Their shoes were just outside the tatami room's wooden lintel； Croaker's heavy Western work shoes lined up next to Nicholas' featherlight loafers。 They knelt opposite one another。 There was steaming tea and hot sake in tiny earthen cups between them。 Sushi and tonkatsu were ing。
〃What time are you leaving？〃 Nicholas said。
〃I'm taking the midnight plane。〃 Croaker grinned lopsidedly。 〃It's the cheapest flight。〃
But they both knew that he had wanted to get into Key West under cover of darkness。
The subdued clatter of the restaurant went on around them as if for once it had no power to touch them。 They were an island of silence； inviolable。
Abruptly Croaker had looked up。 〃Nick…〃
The food came and he waited until they were alone again。 〃There isn't much but I've got some stocks； bonds； and such in a safety deposit box。〃 He slid a small key in a brown plastic case across the low table。 〃You'll take care of things if。。。〃 He picked up his chopsticks； pushed raw tuna around with the blunt ends as white as bones。 〃Well； if it all doesn't work out for me down there。〃
Nicholas took the key； he felt honored。 They fell to eating and the atmosphere seemed to clear。 When they were through and had ordered more sake； Nicholas said； 〃Promise me one thing； Lew。 I know how you feel about Tomkin。 I think it's a blind spot…〃
〃I know what I know； Nick。 He's a goddamned shark； eating up everything in his path。 I mean to stop him and this lead's my only way。〃
〃All I mean is don't let this。。。 passion of yours lead you around by the nose。 Once you get down there take your time； look around； size up the situation。〃
〃You telling me how to do my job now？〃
〃Don't be so touchy。 I just mean that life's more often shades of gray than it is all black and white。 Tomkin's not the Prince of Evil； that's the role you've assigned him。 It's just possible that he didn't have Angela Didion murdered。〃
〃Do you believe that？〃
〃I don't think it matters what I believe。〃
Now Nicholas did not know whether that was true； because he had bee involved。 He had accepted Croaker's abrupt death so far away in Key West； he was here now in Japan because of it。 Gin。
〃So long； Nick。〃 Croaker had grinned in the multicolored street lights just outside the restaurant。 He had half stuck out his hand； then； thinking better of it； had bowed instead。 Nicholas returned the gesture and they had both laughed into the night； as if warding off any kind of trepidation。
Their last moments together had been so casual； in the manner of most men parting for a short time。 Despite what Croaker had given Nicholas； neither man believed anything would happen to the cop in Florida。 And now it seemed to Nicholas that there had been so little time to savor what they had。 For one such as Nicholas； so guarded； so hidden within himself； such occurrences were rare indeed。 He found now that he liked to remember their times together； running scenes back in his mind's eye as if they were clips from a favorite film。
He shook his head now as he reached the head of the stairs； more certain than ever that the path he had chosen for himself was the right one。 He could not allow the murder of his friend to go unavenged。 Giri bound him； it was； as all who had e before him had discovered； stronger even than life itself。
The sensei of this dojo was sitting at the kamiza…the upper seat…of the aikido mat which was made up of a series of tatami of uncovered rice straw padding。 He was a man of indeterminate middle years with a dour countenance； a wide slash of a mouth； and cat's eyes。 He had burly shoulders and narrow waist and hips。 He appeared almost hairless。
His name was Kenzo。 This bit of information had been given to Nicholas…along with a letter of introduction…by Fukashigi； Nicholas' sensei in New York。 〃He is a hard one；〃 Fukashigi had said； 〃but I can think of no other to suit your array of； er； unconventional bujutsu。〃 He knew that Nicholas was a ninja just as he knew that there was a whole range of subdisciplines in which Nicholas could be his sensei。 〃Kenzo will not know what you are； Nicholas； but he will understand the scope of your knowledge and he will work with you。〃
Behind Kenzo； Nicholas saw a raised dais flanked by a pair of seventeenth…century dai…katana…the longest and most lethal of the samurai swords…a traditional ceremonial drum； and； hanging on the wall between them； a rice…paper scroll that read； 〃All things appear but we cannot see the gate from which they e。 All men value the knowledge of what they know； but really do not know。 Only those who fall back upon what knowledge cannot know really know。〃 Nicholas recognized the words of Laotse。
Barefooted； he went upon the tatami； performing the ritsurei； bowing before the sensei。 Then he presented Fukashigi's letter。
Kenzo seemed to take a long time reading。 Not once did he look up at Nicholas。 At length； he carefully folded the sheets； returning them to their envelope。 He put the packet aside and； placing his hands on the tatami； bent forward in the zarei； the sitting bow。 Folding his legs beneath him； Nicholas returned the salutation。
And just at the far apex of his bow； the short stick came hurtling at him。 There was just the hint of a blur at the periphery of his vision and if he had taken the time to think； he would surely have been rendered unconscious。
Instead； his right arm lifted reflexively even as his torso shifted to the right； away from the trajectory of the oning attack。
The stick struck the leading edge of his forearm； bouncing end over end like a pinwheel； but already Kenzo had leapt forward； using Nicholas' own anticipated momentum as he swung to the left； using a punishing shomen uchi； a straight blow to the head to try to bring Nicholas to the mat。
In so doing Kenzo had grabbed hold of his right wrist and immediately Nicholas used an immobilization…a yonkyo…a twist of his own wrist so that now he was gripping the sensei's left forearm。 He dug his thumb deeply into the embedded nerve center running up the inside of the arm。 But instead of backing away from the pressure； which would have allowed Nicholas to bring the now outstretched arm into alignment； Kenzo moved into the paralyzing hold； sacrificing one arm in order not to lose the contest。
A second short stick appeared from somewhere and he slammed it down hard on Nicholas' shoulder。 Nicholas gave up the yonkyo but instead of moving