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rom the rent in her face； drenching her blouse and jacket。 She fell backward with her feet bent under her buttocks。 Her eyes opened wide； blinking rapidly in inprehension； for now she recognized the figure for what it was and her heart contracted in terror。
〃I am afraid this is way beyond my ken；〃 the doctor said。 He was gray and wan； seeming ten years older than when he had e through the office door。 〃His only hope now is a hospital。〃 He sighed deeply； pushing his wire…framed glasses up on his glistening forehead； then massaging his eyes with his thumbs。 〃A thousand pardons。 I am afflicted with an almost constant sinus headache these days。〃 He produced a small plastic bottle； detonated squeezes in each nostril。 〃My doctor says I must soon leave the city for good。〃 He pocketed the bottle。 〃The pollution； you know。〃
He was a stooped Japanese of more than middle yeas； with shoulders so thin the blades could be seen beneath his rumpled jacket。 He had kind； intelligent eyes。 He sighed now as he put the bottle away。 〃But if you want my opinion； even that won't do much good。〃 He peered around at the anxious faces in the room： Nicholas； Sato； Nangi； then at the form of Tomkin； sprawled on Sato's sofa。
〃It's not his heart；〃 the doctor said。 〃I don't know what it is。〃
〃I took his pulse while you were being summoned；〃 Nicholas said。 〃He didn't have any。〃
〃Quite so。〃 The doctor's eyes blinked owllike behind his thick lenses。 〃And that is what is so remarkable。 He should be dead； you know。〃 He looked over in the direction of the stricken man。 〃Was he on any special medication； do you know； Linnear…san？〃
Nicholas remembered idly picking up the small plastic bottle in Tomkin's hotel suite。 〃He's been taking Prednisone。〃
The doctor seemed to stagger backward a pace and Nicholas reached out for him。 His face had gone pale but he made no exclamation； only said so low Nicholas had to lean toward him； 〃Prednisone？ Are you absolutely certain it was Prednisone？〃
〃Yes。〃
The doctor took off his glasses。 〃I fear the ambulance will be useless now；〃 he said softly。 Carefully he replaced his spectacles and looked at them。 Now his face had altered just as if he were
a quick…change artist。 His eyes were black； a professional veneer like a curtain hanging between him and everything else about him。 Nicholas had seen that look many times before in doctors； and in soldiers returning from a war。 It was a kind of defense mechanism； a deliberate hardening of the heart to protect it from sorrow's bitter arrows。 There was； indeed； nothing the doctor could do； and he hated defeat so much。
〃I am afraid Tomkin…san is suffering from the end phase of Takayasu's arterisis； a uniformly malignant and fatal disease。 It is also known as pulseless disease。 The reason for that is； I think； obvious to all of you。〃
Miss Yoshida was confident that she was dying。 This did not seem to be a terrible occurrence for it would bring an end to her suffering and would hide her shame at being too cowardly to take up her husband's wakizashi and； drawing the steel from its scabbard； plunge it into her lower belly。
But the manner in which she was dying…that was another matter entirely。 She was dying like a dog； a poor； broken animal in the street； kicked and pummeled； the life escaping from her in short arrhythmic gasps。
Surely this was no way for a samurai woman to die； she told herself； her mind already half numb from the painful contact of the needle…sharp ripple blade of the steel fan。
But the sight of the figure looming over her…that painted demon's face； dead white； with bright orange paint in the manner the kabuki represented demons in its plays…transfixed her。
It was as if she had been spun down the awful tunnel of legend； as if quotidian Tokyo with its hordes of rushing people； thick pollution； and bright neon lights had disappeared entirely。 And in its place were the wood and paper houses； the green； trembling bamboo groves of the Japan of long ago； mist shrouded and mysterious； filled with magic and the feats of heroes。
This was the essence of the visage which was bent over her now； administering a terrible punishment。
But I am samurai！ a voice in the back of Miss Yoshida's dazzled mind cried。 If I am to die； at least grant me the nobility of falling in battle。
And so Miss Yoshida reached up with clawlike talons； shredding first her nails and then her fingertips on the deadly gunsen that whistled down at her again and again。 She began to inch away from the blows； uncurling herself awkwardly； using forearms and elbows now； the blood running hot and free down her arms and into the drenched sockets of her armpits。
But now her lips were drawn back from her clenched teeth in a cross between a grin and a snarl and adrenaline pumped through her and her heart arose from its gray slumber and sang again at the spirits of her samurai ancestors who moved her now to her glorious end。
〃Confirmed diagnosis has been relatively recent。 Early 1979 at the Mayo clinic； I believe。〃
〃There is nothing you can do； Taki…san？〃 Sato said。
The doctor shrugged his meager shoulders。 〃I can sedate him； take away the pain。 There's nothing else。〃
〃But surely the hospital has facilities that can…〃
But Taki was already shaking his head。 〃It is almost over； Sato…san。 He will feel far more pain if we move him。 And the hospital。。。 well； personally； I would not want to die there had I the choice。〃
Sato nodded； also admitting defeat。
Nicholas left them； a modern cabal； ineffectual against the primitive； ultimate forces of nature。 He knelt beside Tomkin and looked into the pale； pinched face。 Once he had seen the power in that face； the lines the burden of mand had etched into it； giving it character and substance。
Now it was those lines that had begun to take over； deepening； widening； extending their networks。 Time seemed to have closed in on him； aging him ten years in as many minutes。 But unlike Taki； he would never bounce back。 The regenerative process in him had been destroyed by disease。
It seemed vastly ironic to Nicholas now to be kneeling by the side of this dying man； the same man whom he had vowed to destroy。 But he did not question it。 Tomkin's karma was his own。 Nicholas accepted these events as he accepted all else in life； with equanimity and calmness。 It was just this unique quality which had allowed him to put away his intense desire to talk with Akiko； his bewilderment at her physicality。 It was what allowed him to recover so quickly from the awesome implications of Kagami…san's terrible murder。
He was Eastern in nature； even though there was but a hint of his mother's blood in his face。 The Colonel； had he been alive today； would have recognized in the visage of his son an almost exact duplicate of his own youthful self； save that Nicholas' hair was as dark as his mother's and his eyes somehow did not contain the directness of Western culture。
Within Nicholas now swirled many emotions。 He recognized the hate for Tomkin which had allowed him to go to work for him； even bee his Mend in order to be close to him； to sow the seeds of his revenge for his friend's murder at Tomkin' s behest。 And yet。。。 There were qualiti