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Terror stalked him。 He lived in fear that Phoenix would bee aware of his clandestine activities。 The thought of ing under the scrutiny of that glowering countenance was too milch for him to contemplate for long。 Better by far to die by his own hand than to be delivered up to the vengeance of such a one。
To Tengu； who had been brought up with all the superstition and ritualism of country folk； it was like trying to battle a kami。
Phoenix was a shade； something that Tengu could not understand。 Seeing him； seeing the fiercely visaged tattooed tiger rampant across his shoulder and back； Tengu was gripped by a primal paralysis that he could not break。 Therefore； despite what Protorov had advised； he kept his boldness in check； masking himself against discovery while he continued his recreancy。
When Nangi returned to the larger office suite his face was entirely posed。 He had done all he could for the moment。 It was now up to Allan Su and his staff to go through Anthony Chin's books and ferret out just what had been done to All…Asia； to see if it was still a viable entity。 Su had advised that they close their doors until the matter was determined but Nangi； knowing how rumors flew in the Colony； had decided to keep the bank open and to issue an immediate story about Anthony Chin's dismissal for fiduciary improprieties to both the Chinese… and English…language newspapers。 He had no punction about ruining the career of the man who had brought his bank to the brink of financial destruction。
The waters in Hong Kong must be muddied； Nangi had told Su。 〃We must do whatever we can to buy time；〃 he had said。 〃I do not want to transfer in capital from here to cover a run in an already skittish atmosphere。 I will not throw good money after bad。 Remember that； Mr。 Su。 Your job and those of all the others under you is in your hands。 Please don't fail。〃
Running over it all again； he was certain that he had covered everything。 Now it was in the hands of God。 Let Him decide the fate of All…Asia。 Of course he had not told Su that the keiretsu could not afford a major transfer of funds。 But if the bank could not provide it； capital would have to e from somewhere。
Satisfied for the moment； he turned his full attention to matters within Sato's office。 He remembered what he was going to ask Linnear when the phone call had deflected him。 He stopped behind the back of the sofa on which Nicholas； Sato； and Ishii were sitting。 Tomkin was now sprawled in an oversized chair； facing them。
〃Linnear…san；〃 he said； extracting another cigarette and producing his lighter； 〃before I was inopportunely called away； you said that it was highly unusual for death itself to be associated with this Mo。〃
Nicholas； his face pale； said nothing； and Nangi； staring hard as he lit up； wondered whether he had hit a nerve that would somehow serve him in his quest for dominance of the gaijin。
〃I wonder；〃 Nangi continued； pouring blue smoke from his half…open mouth； 〃whether you would be kind enough to tell me the Wu…Shing's purpose。〃
Now Nicholas had a choice of losing face or possibly causing a panic among the Japanese and thus endangering the negotiations Tomkin had made eminently clear must be pleted this week。 He had told Tomkin part of it back in the hotel room on Friday； and now he had told them all a little more。 But only he； Nicholas； knew it all； and the ramifications were so terrifying that； at least for the moment； he preferred not to think about them。 Yet tenacious Nangi； intelligent Nangi was about to force his hand and in so doing wreck how many years of Tomkin's planning？
His mind was racing； working on the problem； when his head turned as if of its own volition。 Haragei…his peculiar sixth sense… was warning him。。。 of what？ Tomkin！ What was wrong？ Nicholas began to move even before fully coherent conclusions had been made。
Raphael Tomkin's brown eyes； usually so full of cunning and impenetrable guile； were now liquid and runny； as if all the color of the irises were drooling out across his lower lids。 His pupils were dilated and he seemed to be having trouble focusing。
Nicholas touched him； felt the minute vibration in his torso； arhythmic； fluttery； abnormal。
〃Quickly；〃 Nicholas said； 〃call for a doctor。〃
〃There's one in the building；〃 Sato said； motioning to Ishii； who was already halfway to the door。 〃He's ours and he's very good：〃
Tomkin tried to open his mouth and could not speak。 His hands grasped at Nicholas' jacket； crumpling the fabric in thick swatches beneath his clawed fingers。 Within his eyes jumped the red spark of fear and terror。
〃It's all right；〃 Nicholas said； his tone soothing； 〃there's a doctor on his way。〃 Something was trying to surface within his mind； a half…remembered memory； tiny； fleeting； seemingly insignificant at the time。 What was it？
Tomkin's face was mottled and so close to him Nicholas could feel the beat of his pulse like an engine gone wild。 He put his forefinger against the underside of the other man's trembling wrist。 After a moment； he moved his finger； then again。 His mind was numb with disbelief。 He could not find a pulse！
Tomkin's mouth was working and he pulled Nicholas toward him wanting； needing perhaps； to whisper。 Nicholas put his ear against Tomkin's lips and listened hard。 Hard breath like a bellows working overtime and the sickly sweet stench of decay。 It brought up the buried memory； but just as he reached for it； he heard Tomkin's voice； sere； fibrous； unearthly。
〃Greydon；〃 Nicholas heard between pants。 〃For。 Christ's。 Sake。 Get。 Grey。 Don。 Now。〃
Pink light reflecting off the kanzashi in Miss Yoshida's hair turned the water…soaked stones glistening at the bottom of a pool into gems。 She knelt just inside the open fusuma on the fiftieth floor of the Shinjuku Suiryu Building； home of Sato Petrochemicals。 It had been given over to a master interior architect and then a sensei of gardening in order to create a sanctuary of peaceful contemplation in the smoky madhouse of downtown Tokyo。
A whisper of wind came from somewhere in the pearly atmosphere above Miss Yoshida's bowed head。 Off to the right rose a stand of willowy green bamboo； tall； youthful； filled with eternal suppleness； that ineffable quality the Japanese so treasure； whose aura can renew the tired spirit。
Miss Yoshida； dressed in a fashionable dark red suit； knelt by the side of the pool。 Though she was Sato's administrative assistant； the simple fact was that tradition dictated that she be known as an Office Lady。 It was a tag she had been fighting for years without any sign of success。 And indeed under other circumstances she would not have been here but would have fulfilled her traditional female duties of being a wife and mother； of keeping her home in perfect order。
But six years ago her husband had been struck by a careening truck as he stepped off a sidewalk jammed with the crush of midday pedestrian traffic。 His skull had been crushed instantly。 His death had left Miss Yoshida all alone to care for their one son； Kozo； who was then beginning high school； the one linked with prestigious Todai。 Miss Yoshida and her husband had labored long and hard…she had even appealed to Sato to u