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mound as if staunching a wound； her thighs close together。
She held herself all the firmer at the instant of his sexual convulsions； as a child caresses a deep hurt to ease the pain。 And then she willed her new husband to sleep； watching him drift off； staring blindly down the lightless corridor of her。 own past at what she might have been。
Akiko rolled carefully over and silently rose from her nuptial bed。 For a moment she stood naked； in utter quietude； staring down at the form of Seiichi Sato； slumbering and sated。
From the enigmatic look on her beautiful face it was impossible to tell what she was feeling。 Perhaps it was tine what Sun Hsiung had once told her； 〃You do not fully understand anything that you feel。〃 But if that were so； she told herself； I could never have learned what I have。 I could never have gone beyond the Kuji…kiri and the Kobudera； the arcane disciplines that Saigo had mastered。 And； she thought triumphantly； I never could have killed that clever fox； Masashigi Kusunoki。 She had used jaho and it had worked； masking the nature of her intent from even such an adept as he。
But her delight was short…lived。 Shaking her head； her long unbound hair a blue…black cascade across her shoulder； down her back； she bent and retrieved her multicolored kimono。 It was the one she had worn at the wedding reception earlier today。
She drew it about her as a child will wrap a bathrobe warm from the radiator around herself in order to ward off more than the chill of night。 She had numbed herself in order to ward off what she thought of as an attack。 It had been a time when； she told herself repeatedly； she had to retreat now in order to have her revenge。 But there was a vile taste in her mouth； salty…sweet like blood。 Her own blood。
Never before had she detested so intensely her karma。 Her training should have protected her from these feelings； and it surprised and disconcerted her that she should feel so violated by one simple act。 That it had been a necessary one did not seem to matter at all。 She was weeping again in silent agony。
Barefoot； she left the bedroom； making her way through the dark house until she found the fusuma that opened out onto the Zen garden。
It was always peaceful there。 Above the one ancient crypto…meria the stars glittered hard and twinkling like the many teeth of some grinning nocturnal predator。 For one long moment； she allowed the barriers to fall away from her。 Thoughts of Nicholas entered her consciousness； seeping through her like woodsmoke。 For just an instant an unfamiliar powerful emotion gyred； filling her up to the bursting point； and； her neck arched； her face turned heavenward； she allowed herself to yearn for surcease。 Up there； a million miles from anything known； she could be free。 Striding through the utter blackness of space； she might at last rest from the turmoil that beset her。
But the feeling only lasted a moment； then she was earthbound again。 Her head came down and her dark eyes contemplated the precise grandeur of the garden。 Less was more here； a uniquely Japanese esthetic。
The pebbles which covered the ground were hand picked for their size； shape； and color。 They were carefully raked twice a day in order to maintain the precise symmetry the garden's designer had labored so hard to create。
Three black； angular rocks jutted up from different parts of the garden。 In contrast to the pebbles； each one was unique unto itself； its ridges and rills affecting the onlooker in varying ways； triggers for the evocation of disparate moods。
The place was tranquil and invigorating at the same time。
Akiko turned her head and sat on the cold stone bench； her legs tucked neatly under her。 Her hands were folded in her lap； the fingers relaxed and slightly curved。 The attitude was so wholly feminine that it was quite impossible to tell what unimaginable bursts of coordinated energy this body was capable of。
She was acutely aware of the arc of a shadow inside her； a demarcation between light and dark whose edge was as finely honed as the most masterfully forged katana blade。 From this place of shade she felt the rippling of her hatred； her longing to wreak a horrendous vengeance。 Her body trembled in anticipation； there was a low rumbling shaking her brain apart； making her moan as if she were in exquisite pain。
Then she felt a veil of wind caress her cheek； cooling her。 Sweat dried along her hairline； the precise symmetry of the garden seized her； and she was altogether calm again。 She sighed in the aftermath of a great storm and closed her eyes。 Her head felt heavy； and as her pulsebeat slowed； she reviewed the events of the evening。
In the stillness of the Zen pebble garden； Akiko was thankful that she did not have to contend with a mother…in…law。 For Sato's mother； like all Japanese mothers； would rule this house。 Wasn't that why the central living section was called omoya by tradition： mother house。 Akiko shuddered inwardly。 How would she possibly be able to endure the orders of the heramochi； the one with the right to hold the spoon used to serve rice； the head of the household。 No。 Far better that she was dead and buried along with Sato's war…hero brother。
Alone with only the cryptomeria； blacker even than the surrounding night； with the shadows of the Zen stones striking her in odd rippling patterns； Akiko stood up and； under the scrutiny of the pinpoint uncaring stars； threw off her kimono in one convulsive gesture。
Naked； the hard blue light vying with the pink neon excrescence from Shinjuku and the faraway Ginza； boulevards that never slept； she stepped out onto the precisely raked rows of pebbles。 They felt so cold and smooth on her bare soles。'
Between two of the jutting black rocks she spread herself； draped on the flat ground； curled and serpentine； half in light； half in shadow； and became one with all that surrounded her。
There was an acute irony in using Tanya against the Russians； an elliptical symmetry that affected Minck in just the same way as did gazing upon one of Thomas Hart Benton's huge canvases： its very existence made life worth living。
After Moscow； Minck had needed elements to demonstrate to him in a direct fashion the nobler； the elegant and uplifting aspects of life。 His incarceration had leeched that part of his memory away。 In returning to America he had had to learn the positive aspects of the human race all over again。
He looked up now as he sensed Tanya's approach。 That was another consequence of his imprisonment。 Some unseen layer of his mind had been rubbed away by the constant scrutiny he had been under； and like sandpaper taken to skin； what was revealed underneath was a hypersensitivity to human presence。
Minck stared into those cool blue eyes； dotted with gray。 They were large and direct； and they were always the first things he saw when he looked at her。 That was his own personal purgatory。
They were the eyes of Mikhail。 Her brother's eyes。 Mikhail； the dissident； had been the reason for Minck's infiltration into Moscow in the first place。 Mikhail had sent a message into the West： he possessed information vital to the American secret service system。 Minck had been chosen by puter…