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It was only as he stared at the gently rippling skin of the lake that Seiichi had reconnected with his father's kami。 And so he came here regularly to be as close as he could e to the history of his family。
He needed all their accumulated wisdom now to see him through this maelstrom。 It seemed as if all his world were collapsing around him。 Thirty…seven years to create； and then in the span of little over a year they were on the verge of ruin。 How had it happened？ He could not say； even with the supposed help of aftersight。 Perhaps they should never have bee involved in Tenchi in the first place。 But the government had made manifestly clear the potential rewards if the project were successful。 With the keiretsu in the position it was in； just outside the charmed circle of Japan's top seven panies； we could not resist； Sato thought now。
But even though the government was pouring the country's money into Tenchi； still there were an enormous number of peripheral costs that the keiretsu was expected to absorb。 It was their duty； and there was simply no question of charging them back to the government。 Over sixty million dollars had been out…layed by the keiretsu in the space of fourteen months； a terrible drain on any corporation； no matter how large。
Tenchi； Sato supposed； was one of the major reasons Nangi had allowed their expansion into international banking in Hong Kong。 Actually； Sato had been against such a move from the start。 The thought of the vagaries of the Crown Colony's financial fortunes filled him with trepidation。 It was tantamount to putting your foot in a bear trap and waiting for it to spring shut。
But Nangi had insisted； and Sato had felt pelled to acquiesce to his will。 After all； they did need an immediate infusion of money； both for Tenchi and to offset the loss of capital from their steel works。 So many idle hands and nothing to do with them but pay them their wages and their benefits while the plant ran at 70 percent capacity。 Now Sato was close to a deal to sell off the kobun。 The price would give them only the most modest of profits； but at least they would be out from under that saddle。
But that might not be enough now。 The Tomkin deal was in limbo until Linnear returned； and Sato had had the most awful feeling in the pit of his stomach ever since Nangi had gotten that call from the All…Asia Bank in Hong Kong。 He had been most unforthing about the nature of the call； but his hurried trip to the Crown Colony boded ill。
Sato read the papers； he knew what the munist Chinese's repudiation of the treaty with Great Britain had meant to the Colony； and he had gritted his teeth as； day by day； his worst fears were borne out。 Real estate and banking were the two mainstays of Hong Kong's economy； and he knew once the first went； it was merely a matter of time before cracks began to show in the other。
Just how deeply has Tony Chin sunk us？ he asked himself。Oh； Amida！ I pray he has a cautious nature。 I pray we are not caught in the bear trap。
But Sato knew that he and Nangi were already in one kind of trap and it was closing inexorably about them with frightening rapidity。 What Linnear…san had called the Wu…Shing。 Sato shuddered inwardly。 Three deaths。 Kagami…san； Mo； the tattoo； Yoshida…san； Yi； cutting off the nose； and now Masuto Ishii； found in the gymnasium with his feet cut off。 Sato strained to recall。 With a sickening lurch that set his gorge to rising； it came to him： Yueh。 The ideogram was a merging of those of knife and foot。
What was happening to the kobun？ The pany was dying around him； and unless Linnear…san found a way to stop these murders he and Nangi would be finished。 For there were two more murders left in the Wu…Shing ritual； and it did not take a genius to determine who the final targets would be。
Who wished to punish them； and why？ Abruptly； within this place of moving shadows and ancient kami； Sato had the growing intuition that their past…his and Nangi's…had somehow been resurrected and a shambling reanimated corpse； trailing rotting flesh in its wake； was making its relentless way toward them。 Soon they would have no structure from which to carry out the final stages of Tenchi。 What would happen then？ He bent his head and prayed fervently for salvation or； at the very least； surcease from this terrible nightmare that had grown up around them； destroying the kobun's most efficient executives； the very heart of the empire that he and Nangi had struggled for so long to achieve。 He must not allow that to happen。 Nothing must be allowed to delay Tenchi。 Nothing。 But there was a cold hand clenched around his heart； squeezing until his eyes filled with tears and the pain was hot in his mouth。
And he thought； Punish us for what？ What have we done？
Viktor Protorov should have been in the Middle East。 Three weeks ago his presence had been required in Southern Lebanon to put a stop to a dispute that had been going on so long now that it had taken on all the characteristics of a feud。
Yet he had not moved from Hokkaido； from the safe house he had spent four years creating for himself。 When he was here no one in the Soviet Union knew where he was or could trace him。 Protorov was quite certain of that。 He had several of his best apparatchiks tunneled securely into the heirarchies of all eight other Directorates。 They had tried numerous times at the behest of their respective leaders。 All drew blanks。
As for the men of the Ninth Directorate who manned this safe
house； Protorov was just as certain of them。 They were； to a man； loyal to him first； the Directorate second； and Mother Russia third。 Of course he did not leave such vital matters to chance。 Once every two weeks the staff…as well as the operatives alive within the Japanese islands…were obliquely vetted in an ongoing program to ensure that the safe house was absolutely sterile。
Only one man was not thus spied upon by his own people； and that was because he was in such an enormously sensitive position。 For him alone Protorov wished to see in person； to ensure his own safety and that the reports he was receiving were pure white。 〃White reports〃 were those containing highly sensitive information as well as being entirely free of disinformation。
In point of fact； white reports were rare。 Protorov had been in the business of deception long enough to take for granted that a majority of all reports were to some degree gray。 That is； they contained some disinformation。 And it was for him to determine the wheat from the chaff； discarding the lies to uncover the truth。 This was only one of his many specialized talents。
Japan was an exception that proved the rule。 Many of the Ninth Directorate's operatives were of such a fanatic nature that they invariably turned in white reports。 The man Protorov was going to see now was one of those。
But the problems in Southern Lebanon had not gone away； and just this morning Protorov had dispatched one of his most trusted lieutenants to take care of the feud for him。 Tenchi was too much a part of him now。 As yet a nebulous concept； still； its siren song lured him onward with the promise of awesome reward。
But if the truth be known Protorov had not wanted to retur