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ssion of being inside a military installation。
Rock paused beside the cage。 It was six feet high； four feet by four feet； painstakingly constructed from Viet Cong design。 He had made it of fire…hardened bamboo lashed together with nylon cord reinforced with art almost unbreakable monofilament。 It was currently occupied by a man who was slowly wasting away from lack of water and food。 He had been caught trying to smuggle a kilo of half…refined； opium out of Floating City； having reported it ruined by an excess of sulfuric acid。
Rock watched him slumped on the hard…packed earth； no longer strong enough even to stand on his feet。 The foul stench ing from him had turned him feral； and there was a look of madness in his eyes that Rock could appreciate。 He had been taught the nature of torture by Do Duc。 They had shared many things； rituals； murder； intimate knowledge that few men could understand。 But Do Duc was dead； killed by Nicholas Linnear。 Do Duc had been as dear to him as a wife or a best friend； though neither had been able to acknowledge their relationship； they had merely accepted it as fact。 When Rock thought of Nicholas Linnear； ideas； irrational and profane； forested his mind。 These ideas lay in the peculiar penumbra between him and death that； together； he and Do Duc had for years explored； plumbed； and finally； mastered。 He knew how dangerous Nicholas was； but this made these ideas all the more stimulating to him。
Squatting down by the side of the cage； Rock pushed one arm through the bamboo bars； took the emaciated man by the throat so he could drink in the growing madness； confront its ragged edge； and so feel close again to Do Duc。
At length； he rose and continued across the pound； entering a building that faced the laboratory。 He went into his office and sank into his leather swivel chair。 It was a relief to be out of the air…conditioning。 Almost two decades in the jungle had thinned his blood。 He turned on the stereo。 The Pink Floyd flooded the room with psychedelic rock。 〃Arnold Layne。〃 The early stuff； Rock thought； was always the best。 He sang happily along。
〃You're having trouble with him；〃 the familiar voice said from a corner of his office。
〃Who？〃
〃Abramanov。〃
Rock swiveled in his leather chair。 Years ago； a four…star general had sat in this chair and had given orders that made no sense in an insane war。 Now it was Rock's chair； he figured he was making better use of it than the four…star ever had。
〃Abramanov will get it done；〃 he said。
〃On time？〃
〃Yes。〃
〃We have clients I don't want to disappoint。〃
〃I needn't remind you we have one particular client we can't afford to disappoint；〃 Rock told him。 〃Don't worry。 We won't disappoint any of them。〃
There was silence for a long time。 In the brief space between album tracks a wild bird called from the forest beyond the vast citylike pound。 Tropical sunlight filtered through the wide bamboo awnings over each window； striping the interior of the office tike a tiger's back。 The room smelled of oil and sweat。
〃I think you're getting soft；〃 the man said from the shadows。
Rock peered into the corner at the figure who； over the years； had bee more familiar to him than any of the girls he slept with。 He smiled。 〃You're full of shit。〃
〃Think so？ You let Niigata go。〃
〃I didn't let him go； he got himself out of here。 But by that time he was mad。 He was dying of radiation poisoning。 Why should I have wasted my time going after him？ He couldn't have gotten far。 His bones have long ago been picked clean out there in the jungle。〃
The figure shifted。 〃You shouldn't have meddled in the rendezvous at the Cu Chi tunnels。〃
〃That bitch。 D'you know what Bay means？ Seven。 She was the seventh child； the unlucky one。 She was fucking that bastard Vincent Tinh。 She deserved to die。〃
The figure clicked his fingers。 〃Her death hooked Linnear； he took it personally； as I warned you he would。 Then； to pound your error； you used Delacroix … a client … to try to put Linnear away。〃
Rock turned up the volume on the Floyd。 〃A client was the perfect choice。 Like a cutout； only better； because he's freelance； he doesn't work for us so he can't be traced back to us。 What are you getting at； you signed off on the hit。〃
〃It was a mistake。〃
Rock shot forward； a sudden rush of blood making his scars go white beneath his tan。 〃Bullshit！ Now it's a mistake because it failed。 Don't try your revisionist crap with me； it won't wash。〃
〃The locals take to it well enough。〃
〃They're uninformed and uneducated；〃 Rock said contemptuously。 〃Bugs Bunny could brainwash them。〃
〃In any case； deconstructing the past is not brainwashing。 It's merely the freedom to express an opinion。〃
〃History is not opinion； my friend；〃 Rock said flatly。 〃It's memory and fact。〃
〃Really？ I wonder whether the recollections of the general in whose chair you're now sitting would jibe with yours when it es to the war in Nam。〃
Rock waved a hand。 〃I'm not going to debate this with you。 It's giving credence to something that is without merit。〃 He stood up。 〃We're going to string up another one。〃
〃Another？ My； I guess I'd better get out my lead…lined pajamas。〃
Rock glowered darkly into the shadows where the figure lounged。 〃That's right； make a joke of it。〃
〃I don't like the idea of Timothy Defacrok hanging around Saigon。〃
〃Don't worry； he's not going to be talking； to anyone。〃
〃What did you do； sew his lips together？ That would be your style。〃
Rock took up a coil of rope and his ever…present LAW； then paused。 〃You know； I hardly recognize you anymore。 When I first met you； I was sure you'd gone pletely native； but I see now I was wrong。 It's those fucking French philosophers； those crypto…Nazis you read all the time。 They've got your head screwed on the wrong way。〃 He shrugged。 〃What the hell。 I guess we've both changed since those long…ago days in the Laotian bush。〃
〃Not you。 You know what your problem is？〃 The figure reached over to turn off the stereo。 〃You're stuck in a time…warp。 Still the Wild Boy； living in the seventies。 Wake up； buddy boy； it's the nineties now。 It's a whole new ball game out there。〃
At the doorway； Rock turned back； grinned over his shoulder。 He began to whistle the first few bars of the Rolling Stones' 〃Gimme Shelter。〃 Then； in a surprisingly well…modulated voice； he took up the lyrics； 〃War； children； it's just a shot away； shot away。。。〃
Eaton Square was as still as a tomb this hour of the night。 The sleet clattered against the sidewalk； drummed on the top of the unmarked car on loan from Major as Croaker pulled up on the King's Road。 His headlights had been off for a block and a half。
Croaker's concern over Vesper had now reached full tide。 If she was managing Morgana； Inc。； she must be deeply involved with the Godaishu。 This was yet another confirmation that Dedalus was the Godaishu's mainstay in America； since Vesper was so closely tied with him。
He turned the corner onto Eaton Square and； hurrying through the evil weather； came to the five…story white town house with its formal quoined fa？ade。 He hesitated only a moment； then went up the stairs beneath the protection of the columned portico