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his is good…bye。 No sayonara this time。 Get it？' He reached out； patted Nicholas's cheek almost tenderly。
'If we ever meet this way again； I'll kill you。'
Shadows looming … were they really people？ … and then gone； just the after…image； dark on his retinas。 He closed his eyes at last and concentrated on breathing。
The paralysis began to fade some time after dawn； he estimated。 He could not be certain of the time because he must have fallen asleep at some point。 Only knew that when he awoke just before eight； he could move his fingers and toes。
Within the hour he could stand and even walk steadily。 He went into his own bathroom and stayed there for a long time。
His first stop was the warehouse。 The character of the street was totally different in the daytime。 This was near the centre of the business district and during the day the area was jammed with traffic and pedestrians。
He tried the front door but it was locked。 After two plete circuits of the place； he was convinced that there was no other way in。 Picking the lock was out of the question。
He went into a near…by teahouse for breakfast； sitting at a table that gave him an oblique but clear view of the building's front！ He drew a blank and after an hour gave up。
While paying the bill； he asked directions to the local police station。 It proved to be a short walk away。 He was sent up to the second floor of the wood and brick buildings。 The place smelled of cement and turpentine。
The sergeant on duty sat behind a desk that was as battered and scarred as a war veteran。 He was a small man； rather young； with a very yellow plexion and a wide moustache meant to disguise his splay teeth。 His uniform was so neat that Nicholas could see the creases in his blouse。
He seemed sympathetic； even helpful。 He took down all the particulars； including the address' of the warehouse。 But his eyebrows shot up when Nicholas told him what was behind the red lacquered door on the third floor。
'A ninjutsu ryu？ Young man； are you certain this isn't some sort of prank？ … a college hazing； that sort of thing。 Because if it is； I under …'
'No；' Nicholas said。 'It's nothing like that。'
'But surely；' the young sergeant said； stroking his moustache lovingly with one forefinger； 'you know that the ninja no longer exist。 They died out； oh； almost a century ago。〃
'Do you have any proof of that？'
'Now see here …'
'Please； Sergeant。 All I am asking is that you send some men round to the warehouse and check。'
The sergeant took his hand reluctantly from his upper lip； held it out palm first。 'All right； Mr Linnear。 All right。 Just leave it to me。 You go back to your hotel and wait for my call。〃
It wasn't until after three。
'Yes？'
'Mr Linnear。' The sergeant's voice sounded weary。
'Did you go to the warehouse？'
'Yes。 I went myself。 With two patrolmen。 It is owned by Pacific Imports。'
'Did you see the sign on the door？'
'There was no sign。 Just a plain door。'
'But there must be …'
'The warehouse was closed today but we were able to scare up the watchman。 He was good enough to take us through。 It's a warehouse。 Nothing more sinister。'
'I don't understand。'
'Mr Linnear； perhaps I should send a man over to take a look at your girl friend's luggage。 Perhaps we might find some clue to her present whereabouts。〃
'Luggage？' Nicholas said； somewhat bewildered。 'Her luggage is gone； Sergeant。 I told you。'
The voice at the other end of the line seemed to contract； bee somewhat colder。 'No；' the sergeant said； 'you didn't。 Mr Linnear； did you and your girl friend perhaps have a row last night？ Did she walk out on you？'
'Now listen …'
'Young man； perhaps I should call your parents。 Where did you say you were from？'
He waited until long after dark before setting out。 It was colder； with a dankness that hung in the air like a steel curtain。 What people remained on the streets at this late hour hurried past him； eager to reach the warmth of their destinations。
He went round the block once just to make certain。 He saw no one more than once。 He stood in a doorway； starting at the front door； shivering slightly as the wind picked up。 A bit of newspaper fluttered across the gutter； lifted； then fell； like a mammoth moth searching for a flame。
It took him four minutes to get inside。 He was extremely careful。 For what seemed a long time he stood with his back against the door； listening for sounds。 He needed to pick up and memorize the aural pattern of the place so that； when he began to work； his mind would be attuned to any deviation from the pattern。 That kind of thing could mean the difference between making it back out and being trapped in here； the subject of a manhunt。 He gave himself ten minutes to… be certain； the pattern contained outside traffic sounds and these took the most time to assimilate principally because they were intermittent。 Then he went silently up the stairs。
The place appeared deserted but he discounted that； assumed that he was on enemy territory。 The sergeant； at the very least； would not be pleased if he was caught trespassing； and he had no desire to involve his father's name in these precincts； the less the Colonel knew of his activities in Kumamoto； the better。 Windowless； the warehouse was just as lightless during the day as it was at night。 Time had no meaning here。 On the third…floor landing； he reached out a pocket torch； played it on the door。
He stood perfectly still for some moments。 Wood creaked somewhere downstairs； a settling rather than from a footstep。 Outside； in an alley perhaps； judging by the hollowness of the sound； a dog barked twice and was still。 The brief rumble of a truck。
The sergeant had not lied。 The door was pletely free of any sign。
He went across the landing for a closer look。 Rubbed his fingertips over the surface in the light of the torch。 Nothing。 Had it ever been there？ He sprung the padlock。
Fifteen minutes later he was away； walking stiff…legged from the pain down the street。 A warehouse。 Only a warehouse。 And not a sign that it had even been a ryu。 Don't bother ing after。 Because we won't be there？
In the railroad car； the radio played a pop song he did not know。 Its tempo was fast； its tone optimistic。 The passing landscape was blurry with mist and； out of it； the hail； raiding and jumping like ping…pong balls。
Nicholas leaned his head against the perspex； glad' of the chill it afforded。 He tried to make a sense of it all。 What a superb actress Yukio had been。 And what a naive little boy he had proved to be。 It was almost amusing。 He working so hard to gain her trust when it was she for whom trust was a meaningless word。 No； it was far too dispiriting to be in the least amusing。
But ironic； yes。 So ironic。
There was a kind of numbness inside him as if Saigo's cruel intrusion had somehow anaesthetized him； shorting out some spark of current。 He thought of Yukio's remark at seeing the bombed…out observatory in Hiroshima。 That is what I am like inside。 Another part of her lie； but it was all too true now of him。
It began to snow； the sky turning white。 The silence seemed appalling and absolute after the long siege of the hail。 The radio had bee