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〃Where is the money？〃
〃In six of the Sha Tin developments；〃 Anthony Chin said miserably。 〃I know what your orders were； but you were not here。 I was on top of the situation； day to day。 I saw just how much money we stood to make。 Now we can't get tenants to move in。 Not with the unsettled climate； the fears about the munists。 Everyone is shaken here； all the tai…pans。 Even…〃
〃You're fired；〃 Nangi said curtly。 〃You have ten minutes to be out of the building。 After that the security people will have orders to arrest you。 They will do the same if you touch or alter any files。〃
He hung up and quickly redialed the bank； asking for Allan Su； All…Asia's statistical vice president。 〃Mr。 Su； this is Tanzan Nangi。 Please do not ask any questions。 As of this moment； you are president of All…Asia。 Anthony Chin no longer works for me。 Please give your security people orders to evict him as of now。 Have them make certain he takes nothing of the bank's with him。 Now； to business。。。〃
He would have to take one of them out。 Red or Blue； which would it be？ Riding the waves； cerulean and a green the shade of translucent jade； Bristol thought it would be Blue。
He sat in a sway…backed canvas director's chair that had seen better days； paying out his line； waiting for something to strike the bait twisting fifteen feet below。 Not more than a hundred yards to port； the long sleek twinscrew pleasure boat carrying Alix Lo…gan； a half…dozen of her friends； and the Red Monster； who was doing his level best not to stick out like a sore thumb； sat in the water。
He had gone so far as to take off his shirt； which； Bristol thought； was a mistake because it only emphasized the paleness of the flesh on his chest； back； and upper arms。 There was plenty of muscle； though； and Bristol took careful note。 He wondered how Alix had introduced him to her friends。
The line went taut and the ratcheting of the set reel began。 Bristol watched the end of the rod bending and quivering； and he began the reel…in。 If it had been a toss…up he probably would have chosen the Red Monster to take out because he was even bigger than Bristol was； and after all this time Bristol was itching for a fight。
But as it was； there was no contest。 In the months of his surveillance； he had e to hate the Blue Monster。 For one thing； he had a way of looking at Alix that went beyond a strictly business interest。 Somehow； over time； Blue had developed a proprietary absorption。
To the Red Monster she was just another piece of meat； an assignment like many others he had had before and would have again。 Isolate and protect； he stuck to the letter of the mand he had been given…they had a Laundry List； an accounting of people in her life who had been checked out and were okay for her to associate with。
Blue； the night man； loved to look at her。 He was allowed inside her apartment。 Not for the entire night； of course； but just long enough when she returned home to check the place out thoroughly。 Then the door would slam and he'd saunter down the concrete steps； a wooden toothpick twirling from one corner of his mouth to the other。
He'd cross the street； heading for the chrome and glass box of the fried chicken franchise less than a block away。 He'd buy a pail of extra crispy that would feed a family of four and hunker down in an orange plastic seat。 His lips full of grease； his cheeks flecked with bits of chicken skin； he'd stare at the lighted window square behind which Alix Logan was undressing for bed and lick his lips。 Bristol did not think it had anything at all to do with the food。
A force jolted him； all the way down at the base of the rod； and things began to hot up。 He pushed the soles of his worn topsiders against the aft coaming and hauled back mightily on the rod。 The force of God was down there； and the answering twist almost pulled him out of his chair。 What in Christ's name had he lit onto？ His back muscles tensed as he brought all his brawn to bear against the sea creature at the other end of his line。
A hundred yards away； across the diamondlike sparkle of the rolling sea； Alix and her friends were in their suits； their coppery skin shining with suntan oil； faces held up to the streaming sunlight； hair floating in the wind。 Tops popped off iced cans of Bud； handed around。 Laughter floated across the water。
Bristol fought the fish； even as his eyes were on the activity aboard the pleasure boat； even as his mind still turned over his feelings for the Blue Monster。
His great muscles corded and he felt the adrenaline pumping through him； exulting him。 Damn； but it was good to be alive。 The terror of the grave Tomkin wanted him in was an inconstant specter inside him。 That night； the tumbling car； the uncontrollable motion； the soaring； stomach…wrenching free fall； the ground ing up； the overpowering darkness； the vertigo； the getout； and the searing fireball of his coffin； the triumphant shout of the flames licking near his cheek； and rolling； rolling； looking again and again with each rapid revolution into the face of death。
With a fierce grin； Bristol reeled in the line； feeling with every sense he possessed the skein of life flowing all around him。 He felt the rhythmic rocking of the boat as it negotiated the deep sea swells； he breathed deeply of the clean salt air laced with the pungency of marine fuel； felt the hot bite of the sunlight on his arms and shoulders。 The colors of the water flashed before him； now deep blue； then aquamarine； turquoise； even； far out； a thin feathery line of pale green。
But mostly； he felt the life at the other end of the line； the fight； the strategy of working the big fish closer； ever closer to
the boat's side and the ultimate landing。 During New York's long； frigid winters he had dreamed of such moments； and now he was living them。
The fish was close now。 He could see its frothy wake every so often as it neared the surface； knew that that was the time to brace himself； to let off the reel's safety and allow the creature its head to plunge downward into the ocean's depths。 That would do nothing more than set the hook more firmly in its cheek but it only knew that it must get away； and instinctively it went down。
The reel screamed as the line payed out in a blur and he knew that if he were holding on to the line too tightly； it would snap under the enormous force of the fish's dive。
And now it reached the end and； lifting the rod in a long smooth arc； he began to reel in the line； slowly； steadily； with a great deal of patience。 It would be a long afternoon out here and he had nowhere else to go unless the skipper of the nearby pleasure boat decided to move on。
Always he had one eye on the other craft。 It was important； he knew； not to bee a passive observer。 Most likely； you'd be put to sleep and you'd learn nothing。 He had been taught to use stakeout time to actively learn about the subject。 Moods as well as habits were important； because there would surely e ： day when observer and subject would meet and in that confrontation the observer's acquired knowledge often made the difference in establishing a dialogue。
The big fish was tiring； and as Bristol wound the line in more quickly now he