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legram he would in any case have been on the next flight out following Raphael Tomkin's funeral。
He put one hand in his trousers pocket and felt again the flimsy sheet of yellow paper。 He did not need to bring it out in order to recall its contents： LINNEAR…SAN。 V。P。 OF OPERATIONS； MASUTO ISHII； THIRD VICTIM OF WU…SHING。 FEET SEVERED。 CHEEK TATTOOED WITH IDEOGRAM： YUEH。 KO…BUN IN GRAVE JEOPARDY。 WE SEEK YOUR AID。 SATO。
Yes； Nicholas thought now； there was no doubt。 Yueh was the third of the Wu…Shing punishments。 Only two remained。 And Nicholas feared that he knew who the next two victims would be。
Now it was more imperative than ever for him to return to Tokyo。 Tomkin's last wish was to have the Sphynx merger consummated…and as quickly as possible。 That Nicholas knew he would acplish。 But first he had to deal with the creature enacting this deadly ritual； for he saw that there would be no merger without the cessation of this danger。 He had his duty to Tomkin to perform and he saw now what must have been inevitable since the advent of the Wu…Shing。 That he must stand against it。
The black day had e that Akutagawa…san had both feared and foreseen when he had begun Nicholas' training in the dark side of ninjutsu。 And he knew instinctively that he would need to use everything he had learned over the years just to survive。
He spent almost all the time before the ceremony meeting the assembled executives from Tomkin Industries' far…flung offices。 Bill Greydon had taken care of those Telexes so they had been prepared and were ready to meet their new president。
Only once did Nicholas think of Justine and that was when he caught a glimpse of her with a handsome； blond…haired man who seemed to have stepped off a fashion layout page。 That would be Rick Millar； her new boss。 Nicholas made this observation with an odd kind of detachment。 He knew that he was now so caught up in the people and events on the other side of the world that he had； in a very real sense； cut himself off from Justine。 His feelings toward her were like fish in a tank； he watched them with cool curiosity； removed from their heat。
There had been no question of him dropping Tomkin Industries。 He could do that for no one person。 His mother； Cheong； would certainly have understood that。 And so would the Colonel。 There was always giri to perform in life。 And the debt of honor outweighed all other considerations。。。 even one's own life。
It did not seem at all odd to him that only six months ago he had wished to wreak vengeance on the man for whom he now felt giri。 The forces of life were constantly in flux； and woe unto the man who stood fixed and unyielding in his attitudes。
Tomkin had been responsible for Croaker's death。。 。and he hadn't。 What did that mean？ Nicholas had no idea as yet； but one thing was clear to him now。 Whatever Tomkin had done in that regard did not have the mark of a personal vendetta。 At least in that Croaker had been mistaken。 But where was the truth in this whirlpool？
Executives from Silicon Valley； San Diego； Montana； Pennsylvania； upstate New York； Connecticut； Manila； Amsterdam； Singapore； Berne…there was even one diminutive silver…haired gentleman from Burma； where the pany was involved in hardwood foresting…spoke with him in seemingly endless array。 All were friendly； all were unknown to him。
Until Craig Allonge； the chief financial operations officer in New York； came up to him。
〃Thank God for a friendly face；〃 Nicholas said。 〃Stay here and don't move。 I've got a job for you when this is all over。〃
In the limo returning to Manhattan Nicholas dialed the Washington number Greydon had given him。 He spoke for several moments； then replaced the receiver。 He turned to Allonge。 〃First stop is the office；〃 he said。 〃Give me a quick course in how to pull information out of the puter； then leave me alone。 Get your passport…I assume your Japanese visa's up to date？ Good。 Pack a small bag。 I need you to go over the last five years of this pany's life with me so don't plan to sleep on the plane。〃
But Nicholas was quicker by far than Allonge was； and while the lanky Texan frantically sorted through his files as they began their takeoff four hours later； he sank into getsumei no michi； his eyes closed to exclude all distractions。
In the middle level of consciousness that was fully as much feeling as it was cerebration； intuitive expansion was paramount。
He bypassed the enormous inflow of cataclysmic events during the past several days。 Deep within the moonlit path he began to explore the center of his dilemma。 His Eastern side； so much more dominant these days； had conveniently broken it off from the mainstream of his thoughts； carefully surrounding it with opaque walls so that no feelings could seep out from it。。。 or seep in。 Thus could he continue with the multitudinous decisions of daily life without his judgment being affected or colored by unwanted emotion。
And finally on the horizon of his imagination he came to the citadel of the unnameable emotion that had been haunting him from the moment Akiko Ofuda Sato slipped her fan away from her face and revealed herself to him。 True consciousness had not been able to bring him here； nor could his dreams。 It was only getsumei no michi； the riverbed of all emotions； that had fetched him up on this far shore。
He felt fully the trepidation he had put away and； yes； the fear like a great funnel of forces trying to wrest control from him。 For just an instant he was quite certain that； like staring at Medusa's face； he would be paralyzed if he allowed himself to recognize what was within the citadel。
Then； recalling one of his most basic lessons in the mists of Yoshino； he penetrated that fear。 He went pletely through it。
And on the other side discovered that his love for Yukio had never really died at all。
Just before sunset； Sato was sitting cross…legged in his study。 The fusuma were pulled back； revealing a small moss garden that was carefully nurtured through the seasons。 There existed more than a hundred varieties of moss； here were represented a score。
Pale light； golden and flickering as the sun descended through the broad…boughed trees； touched the mossed rocks here and there； giving the gardenia soft…spectral quality。
He heard movement behind him but he did not stir。
〃Sir？〃
It was Koten's oddly high…pitched voice。 There was no one else in the house。 Akiko had gone south to visit her ailing aunt； who had not been able to make the trek north for the wedding； and Nangi was home preparing for his Hong Kong trip。 Both he and Nangi had been filled with foreboding at the discovered death of Ishii…san just hours after Nicholas Linnear had taken off for America。 As if the gods had been made angry at his departure。
Sato had tried to bring himself to articulate to his long…time friend some of the fears that had overwhelmed him at the shrine； but Nangi was Sato's sempai just as Makita…san had been Nangi's； and there were some matters one did not bring up with elders。
〃Sir？〃
〃Ah； yes； Koten…san；〃 he said shortly。 〃What is it？〃
〃A phone call； sir。〃
〃I don't want to be disturbed。〃
〃Excuse me； sir； but the gentleman said it was urgent