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〃This is the Yakuza we're talking about；〃 Russell said。 〃They're all sons of bitches。〃
Tori nodded。 〃That's more or less true；〃 she said。 〃It's the 'less' you need to concentrate on。 Once you do； you find some fascinating personalities。 Hitasura's one。 Anyway； he's in my debt； so you don't have to worry about his loyalty。〃
Russell waited for her to tell him how Hitasura happened to be in her debt； but when she wasn't forthing； he asked her himself。
''It's none of your business； Russ；'' she said。 ''You don't ask questions like that。 They're too personal。〃
Russell could see that she was already reverting to her enigmatic Japanese personality； the one that drove him to distraction when he had first worked with her。 He wasn't going to let that happen again。 〃This is different； it's business；〃 he said。 〃It's my neck that's being put on the chopping block along with yours。 Under me circumstances； don't you think I deserve an answer？''
〃No；〃 Tori said。
Russell leaned forward。 〃Look； Tori； do I have to point this out： if Hitasura is involved in the soft cell…〃
〃Russ 。。。〃
He stared at her。 〃I don't care if he is in your debt； thе possibility remains that if Estilo didn't order Ariel's murder； then Hitasura did。〃
〃Let's not get ahead of ourselves； shall we？〃
Russell could see she was angry。 He couldn't blame her。 Both Estilo and Hitasura were her friends。 One had already betrayed her。 How much would it take for the other to betray her as well？
Tori stood up。 〃Excuse me。 I've got to go to the bathroom。〃
Russell watched her go down the aisle。 He wondered why he could never win an argument with her。 Several minutes later it occurred to him that they hadn't had an argument； merely a conversation。 Then he began to wonder why he saw their conversations as skirmishes； and； worse； why it was he found it necessary to win them all。
Something stirred inside him。 He felt again the torn edges of the end of his life； blood covering his eyes； the stench of the great bull filling his nostrils； the corrida's red dust coating his mouth； the taste of death choking him。 Russell had already given himself up for dead。 He had been sucking the dust into his lungs； his vision clouded。 There had been pain in his shoulder； his ankle。 The bull was towering over him； ready to inflict its damage on his body。 His mind could see it ing。 his death。 It was as if in that moment he had seen how out of focus his life had been up to that point。
He rose； went down the aisle to the door to the head。 He knocked on it。 〃Tori？〃
his hand twisted the turnplate； and the narrow door opened inward。 He saw Tori hunched over the stainless steel John； her body racked with dry heaves。
When she turned to look at him； her eyes were filled with tears。 〃Get… Get the hell out and leave me alone！〃 she managed to say。
One of the Mall flight crew was ing up behind him； and Russell stepped inside； quickly shut the door。
〃Oh； God！〃
He knelt down beside her； held her head and shoulders while the spasms went on and on。 At last she collapsed against him； and he winced as pain shot through the spot where the bull's kick had caught him。
He reached up； managed to get a paper towel soaking wet。 He gently wiped her face； her lips； her neck。 She used the water he gave her to rinse out her mouth。
Russell could feel her heat； her softness； bined with the peculiar tautness she possessed。 He felt a stirring inside him； the accelerated beating of his heart； and cursed himself for being a fool。
How could he let this happen？ She was soft and vulnerable； lying meekly in his arms。 Strong； capable Tori Nunn。 He had her just where every man would want her。 But that wasn't it； not at all。 What he was feeling was something else； something new； and because he was already at war within himself as to the nature of it； he was at a loss as to what to do。
He was aware of the cloudlike swirl of her golden hair； still matted here and there with the blood of the terrifying beast she had brought down。 He could not put aside me memory of her vaulting over the barrier into the red dust of the corrida。
He was aware of the delicate curve of her cheek； so like…yet so unlike…her mother's。
Her lashes fluttered against the bare flesh at the hollow of his throat。 Her breathing； the beating of her heart； the heat of the insides of her wrists so close to his own； merging。 He had seen the glint of the long knife as she had vaulted atop the beast； as she had plunged the blade with a matador's unerring skill into its skull。 Jesus； but he had been frightened。
He had never known the meaning of terror until that moment。 And something； he was certain； had happened to him then。 In the instant when he was showered with the beast's blood； was assured of its death and； in consequence； the continuation of his own life； he had e to understand what ten thousand sleepless hours closeted in the Mail's operations room could not provide。
At last； he knew what it meant to have his head thrust down a hole； black； dank； menacing； and in that horrific darkness； e face to face with himself。 So close to death； the veneer he had worked so assiduously to apply to his life had been stripped away。 He had always considered that veneer to be a perfect confluence of sophistication； urbanity； and cunning。 The exact mix required for the plex dance of quid pro quo the director of the Mall was required to perform。
But now he saw that he could no longer live with the true nature of the life he had built for himself： the dense macabre； a malevolent minuet designed and dictated by Bernard Godwin； the man to whom he paid constant homage。 The man who owned Russell Slade pletely。
And at last he came to the core of it all： he had been certain that he had challenged Cruz to prove Bernard Godwin wrong； to prove himself to Tori； but in the end he understood that he had faced death for himself。 Because he could no longer stand himself； the old Russell Slade； boy genius； perhaps； but a man filled with insecurity at not being part of the veteran network presided over by Godwin； a man on the outside； forever cut out of the field operative's loop…isn't that why he had been so intensely jealous of Tori？ Yes； Russell Slade had been just the man Bernard Godwin could subtly manipulate in almost any way he chose。
The horrific truth was that by appointing him director of the Mall； Godwin had made it possible for him to continue running his own agendas while giving the appearance of having moved back into an advisory capacity。 Russell was filled with shame。
He felt Tori's arms around him； her fists clutching him； and something inside himself gave way。 He put his head down； much as the beast in the corrida had done for the matador's killing sword； and his lips sought hers。
It was not a conscious gesture。 Dazed by the ramifications of his revelation； Russell hardly knew what he was doing。 His lips came down over Tori's； he felt hers soften； and searched for her tongue with his。
Then her mouth broke away。 〃No；〃 she gasped。 〃No； please。〃 Their eyes locked； and Russell was shocked not by how beautiful her eyes were； but by how he had never really noticed their beauty before。 They were like misty jewels； tr