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kind of catharsis that had flowed from his mind into his body？ Ushiba was not a religious man； but he knew this was certainly possible。 He had experienced the intimate mind…body alliance time and again through tai chi and meditation。
He went back in to see Dr。 Benwa before he left the doctor's office。 Benwa put aside a file in which he had been writing when Ushiba came in。 He gestured。
〃Sit down； Daijin。〃 He sat back； contemplating a spot on the wall over Ushiba's left shoulder。 〃Tell me； how is it with you？〃
Ushiba said nothing； waiting for the doctor to get to the point。
〃As you know； we are doing everything medically possible。〃 He shrugged。 〃But often that is not enough。〃 His eyes swung to Ushiba's face。 〃Are you still alone； Ushiba…san？ I am concerned； you see。 There have been innumerable studies that prove that in serious illness as in old age； loneliness can accelerate a terminal decline。〃
〃But I am in remission。〃
〃Yes。 I am only offering you everything I can。 I am incapable of doing less。〃
〃I can give no criticism of the care I have been receiving。〃
Dr。 Benwa nodded his head。 〃You are a great asset to this country； Daijin。 Your death will make it the poorer。 I have no wish …〃
〃Doctor。。。〃
〃Yes； yes； I know。 I go beyond normal propriety。〃 He held up his withered arm。 〃This； you see； has given me certain privilege。 You cannot take offense； it would shame you。〃 He looked down at his cluttered desktop for a moment。 〃Daijin； you are being treated by the most modern methods available。 Forgive me； but what you need most now is love。〃
〃Well； Doctor； since we are being brutally frank with one another； I will confess that I am not sure that I would recognize it even if it was proposed。〃 Ushiba stood up。 〃But to set your mind at ease I can report that I have been offered kindness。 Much to my surprise I have accepted it。〃 He smiled thinly。 〃Perhaps my disease is not such a terrible thing after all。〃
It was twilight by the time he emerged from Dr。 Benwa's cavelike offices。 The city rolled on around him； oblivious to his condition。 He was all too aware of his increasing sense of isolation； the indifference of the world could be terrifying if he allowed himself to dwell upon it。 In this sense； he knew the wisdom of Benwa's theory … his psychological state was important for his physical health。
Instead of climbing immediately into his car； he told his driver that he would walk for some time。 He felt the need to be immersed in the river of humankind； to feel it press against his skin； to reduce the volume of empty space around him。 It seemed to him as if he had been operating in a vacuum for months on end。 His lofty position as chief minister of MITI was not the only factor in his daily isolation from life in the city； his position in the Godaishu removed him even further from society than did his official capacity。
This brief respite from having death's knife at his belly was proving surprising indeed。 The clarity with which he saw his present position astonished him。 He found himself wondering whether he and the rest of the Godaishu had any inkling of the world they so desperately wanted to control。 What would they do once they achieved their goal of controlling international economic merce？ Would they gather in more money？ More influence？ More power？ If so； what would it get them？ How much money； influence； and power was enough？
Walking the densely packed streets of his city； brushing against the people who daily pounded the pavement； took public transportation； and struggled to pay their taxes； he became frightened。 Not for them； but for himself and the other members of the Godaishu； because he sensed the answer to his question。 Thinking of each individual in turn； he knew that no amount of money； influence； or power would be enough to satisfy them。 Was he included in their ranks？ Surely； up until this moment； he had been。 What did that make him？ He closed his eyes； abruptly dizzy。 He shuddered； invaded by his own private winter。
His eyes snapped open and he found himself staring into the curious face of a young woman holding her daughter's tiny hand。
〃Are you ill； sir？〃
〃No。 I'm entirely well； thank you。〃
He left her behind； but he turned to watch her guide her daughter across the wide avenue。 Her face was still in his mind。 It was not an unusual face； but its very ordinariness moved him。 He suddenly thought of Torch and of its implications。 Torch would never have e to fruition without the Godaishu's assistance。 And now the full horror of what they were perpetrating fell squarely upon his shoulders so that his stomach heaved and threatened to send whatever acids it contained rocketing into his throat。
We're mad； he thought。 All of us are quite insane。
I've been foolish； Croaker thought。 How out of shape can I get？ That sonuvabitch Bad Clams。 But it was his own fault。 Bad Clams had warned him。 I got my eye on you； he had said。 Just 'cause you're flying the pond don't mean I won't know where you go and what you do。
Croaker had bee aware of the man behind the newspaper just after Vesper and Mikio Okami had embraced。 He would have spotted the tail sooner had he not been concentrating so on matching Okami with the images of the photos Nicholas had shown him before he had left Tokyo at the beginning of the year。
The tail had entered the Bird Lawn area from the direction of the Japanese garden； settling on a bench； opening a copy of the London Times。 Croaker could have kicked himself。 Once he had ID'd Okami； he knew he had the last piece of the puzzle： Torch was going to be detonated in the heart of London。
Now Croaker was faced with a classic dilemma。 He had followed the Nishiki network back to its source； he had found Mikio Okami。 But in the process he had led the opposition to its objective。 His choice was to follow Okami back to his safe house and risk leading Bad Claim's man there or dealing with the tail now at the expense of losing Okami。
He had only one viable option。
As Okami and Vesper walked north out of Bird Lawn； Croaker strolled over to the bench where the man was sitting behind his newspaper。
〃Howdy；〃 he said； sitting down next to the man。
The paper rustled； but there was no response。 Croaker hooked a forefinger over the top of the paper； pulled it down。 He found himself staring into the face of a sallow…skinned man with unnaturally black hair； thinning on top。 He had quick； alert eyes that seemed to focus on nothing and everything all at once。 He was wearing a cheap brown suit and had a mole on his chin。 His nose had been broken several times and poorly set； and he was tough enough that the lines in his face might have been scars。
〃I beg your pardon。〃
〃I'm sure you do。〃
〃Do I know you？〃
〃You do now；〃 Croaker said； slipping one hand into the man's jacket； extracting the gun from the shoulder holster。 〃This is illegal here。〃
〃Not for me。 I have a license。〃
〃We'll see。〃
〃Put it back。〃 The mole man bared his teeth。 〃Or I'll take you apart with my bare hands。〃
Croaker unloaded the gun； shaking the bullets out onto the ground。 Then he returned the weapon to its holster。 As he did so； he extruded the stainless…steel nai