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'Morning； Vincent；' he called。
'Morning； Nate。' He hurried across the room to the high metal dome of the coffee machine standing like a doge's palace amid the clutter。 Hold the sugar； hold the half…and…half； he thought gloomily。 I need my caffeine straight this morning。
'Stay a minute； Vincent；' Graumann said； as the assignment meeting broke up。
Vincent sat in a green chair across from the littered desk and handed over the cases he had picked out when Graumann asked to see them。
They were friends； away from their labours here； but those times had seemed to shrink over the years。 Graumann had been deputy M。E。 when Vincent had first arrived here and； it seemed； there had been more time then。 Or perhaps it was just that there had been more money。 Their workloads increased as the fiscal crunch fell like the side of a mountain upon them。 The city had much larger problems than worrying about the people who were daily bludgeoned； knifed； strangled； drowned； asphyxiated； shot； mangled and blown apart on the city's streets or in the bodies of water throughout its environs。 Eighty thousand people die each year in New York City and we get thirty thousand of them； he thought。
'What d'you have on at the moment？' Graumann said。
'Uhm。 The Morway thing；' Vincent said； his brow furrowing in thought； 'and the Holloway knifing … I'm due in court on that any moment。 The Principal case is about closed … just a few odds and ends left to tie up for the D。A。 … the blood analysis should be in this afternoon。 And then； oh yeah； Marshall。'
'What's that？'
'Came in late yesterday afternoon。 McCabe said it couldn't wait so I began working on it right away。 Drowning in the reservoir。 McCabe thinks he might have had his head held under。 They're holding someone on suspicion； that's why she needs the goods right away。〃
Graumann nodded。 'Full load； huh？'
'More than。'
'I want you to go 〃out to the Island for a couple of days。'
'What？ In the middle of all this？'
'If it weren't important I wouldn't be asking；' he said patiently； 'would I？'
'But what about …？'
'I'll look after your cases in progress personally。 And these' …he picked up the two manila folders； tapping their bottoms on the desk top several times as if straightening them out … I'll give to Michaelson。'
'Michaelson is an idiot；' Vincent retorted hotly。
Graumann regarded him placidly。 'He goes by the book； Vincent。 He's steady and dependable。'
'But he's so slow；' Vincent moaned。
'Speed is not everything；' Graumann reminded him。
'Tell that to McCabe。 She's got the whole office on our case； lately。 All those goddamn assistant D。A。s wheedling their way in here mucking things up。'
'It's what they're paid to do； I'm afraid。〃
'So what am I doing out on the Island？〃
'Paul Deerforth called late yesterday；' Graumann said。 'You remember him？'
'Sure。 We met last year when I came out to visit you for a couple of days。 West Bay Bridge； right？'
'Uhm； hmm。' Graumann sat forward。 'He's apparently got a problem that's over his head。 He has ancillary ties to the Suffolk County M。E。's office。' He looked down at his steepled nails； back up to Vincent's face。 'He asked for you specifically。'
There was a great fish tank along the left…hand brick wall of the living room of Nicholas's house。 It was； he estimated； big enough to hold fifty gallons of water。 But its denizens were no ordinary guppies or gouramis； for the owners had left to him； the summer's tenant； the care of a multitude of salt…water fish whose brilliant colours electrified the surrounding water just as if they were a flock of boldly plumaged birds flitting through some dense tropical world。
He watched Justine's form through this aqueous lens like a primitive peeping through the foliage at an intruding mem…sahib。
She wore a red bathing suit cut high along the thighs to resemble a dancer's leotard and thus accentuate her long legs。 She had a white towel around her neck as if she had just e from a gym。 She licked at a running egg yolk between her fingers as she mopped at the plate with a last bite of toast in her other hand。 Popping this into her mouth； she turned to look at him。
'Those aren't yours； are they？' she asked。
He had finished feeding them but unaccountably remained in his crouched position； fascinated perhaps by the distortions of the soft currents created by the fish and the bubbling aerator。 A certain air of unreality was forting although he might be more inclined to think of it as an aspect of fantasy。
'Not mine； no；' he said from behind the barrier reef。 'They are the house's true owners。' He laughed and straightened up。 'More so than I； at any rate。'
She stood up； brought the plates to the kitchen。 'Christ； it's raining。' She leaned on the sink with her elbows； stared out of the window。 'I wanted to work outside today。〃
The rain pattered lightly against the living…room windows； the flat roof； ing in from the sea。 The light was cold and dark； as patchy as marble。
'Do it here；' he said。 'You've got your stuff with you。'
She came out into the living room； dusted her hands。 'No； I don't think so。 If I have to be inside； I might as well use the board。'
She confounded him； and doing nothing was； in it's way； just as bad as taking the wrong turn。 He despised hesitation。
'Have you brought any sketches with you？'
'Yes； I …' She glanced away towards the large canvas bag by the side of the sofa。 'Of course。 Yes。'
'I'd like to see them。'
She nodded； reached out a large blue…paper…covered tablet； handed it to him。
She wandered around the room while he went from page to page。 The bubbling of the tank。 The muted hiss of the surf。
'What's this？'
He looked up。 She was standing in front of a low walnut breakfront； hands clasped loosely behind her back。 She meant the objects he had hung on the wall one above the other； a pair of scabbarded； gently curving swords。 The top one was perhaps thirty inches long； the one beneath perhaps twenty。
He watched the shadowed line of her spine for a moment； pared it with the one in the sketch he held in front of him。 'They are the ancient swords of the Japanese samurai；' he said。 'The longer one is the katana； the killing sword； the other； a wakizashi'
'What're they used for？'
'bat and seppuku： ritual suicide。 In ancient times； only the samurai were allowed to wear and use the daisho； the two blades。'
'Where did you get them？' Still she had not taken her eyes off them。
'They're mine；' he said。
She turned her head and smiled。 'You mean you're a samurai？'
'In a way；' he said seriously and got off the couch。 He stood beside her； thinking about the three hours a day he practiced。
'Can I see；' she said； 'the long blade？'
Carefully he reached up； took the katana off the wall。 'I shouldn't do this。' One hand on the sheath； fingers of his right hand wrapped around the long hilt。
'Why not？'
He pulled slowly； its shining length revealed in a four…inch span。 'The katana should be drawn only for bat。 It's sacred。 Given in the manhood ceremony； christened with its own name； it is the heart and soul of the samurai。 This is a dai…katana； longer than the standard sword。 Don't touch it；' he