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'Do you miss it？' Nicholas asked。
'What？ Miss what？' Croaker took them through the intersection on the amber； accelerated。
'Smoking。' He had noticed that the ends of the other's fingers on his right hand were yellowed。
'Goddamn right I miss it；' Croaker growled。 'Why'n hell d'you think I chew these goddamned Mint Picks？ Huh You think I've got time to eat with all the shit ing； down in this city？ I ain't been in a proper bed in three days。' He hung a left onto First Avenue and； with a squeal of brakes that must have left several inches of rubber on the city's asphalt； he pulled up in front of the turquoise…glazed brick facade of the Chief Medical Examiner's office。 He double…parked and they went up the steps。
。 Croaker led them over to a desk； flipped open a brown plastic case to display his badge and I。D。 to the receptionist。 The man nodded when Croaker said； 'Dr Ito；' and dialled a three…digit number on the telephone on the small desk。
He looked up as he cradled the phone。 'Dr Ito will be right up； Lieutenant。 He's in the morgue。'
Croaker looked around； watched the policeman on duty for several minutes。 He did not know the man。
Vincent came out。 He was wearing a green lab smock that tied at the back。 'Hello； Nick；' he said gravely。 He shook Croaker's hand。 He led them back the way he had e； past the identifying room with its hydraulic lift to the morgue and down a set of stairs to the basement。
There was no smell at all down here； Nicholas had always imagined it would stink of disinfectant and formaldehyde。 It was silent save for the monotone drone ing from behind a set of swing…doors； an autopsy was in progress。 Vincent went to the bank of stainless…steel doors； opened two。 Then he described in detail what he had found。
'It was no ordinary intruder who found them；' he concluded。 'You see how the sternum and rib cage are fractured？'
'Christ；' Croaker said。 'I've never seen anything like that。 He looks like he's been battered with a baseball bat。'
Vincent shook his head。 'Nothing so crude； Lieutenant。 It was a human body。'
Croaker snorted。 'Idiotic！ A human body by itself couldn't cause such extensive damage in such a short amount of time。 The man must've had fists like hammers。'
'No fists；' Vincent said。
Croaker stared at him。 I'm sure this is leading somewhere； Doctor。'
'Lieutenant；' Nicholas said。 'Terry was a sensei； a master of kenjutsu； karate； aikido。 No man alive could get close enough to him to kill him； unless。。。'
'Unless what？ I want to hear this。' Croaker crossed his legs； leaning nonchalantly against the bank of doors。
'There is a kenjutsu technique； perfected and written about by Miyamoto Musashi； Japan's greatest swordsman。 It's called the Body Strike； for obvious reasons。 Using one's shoulder …'
'This guy must have been built like a tank；' Croaker said。
'On the contrary；' Nicholas said； 'his stature could have been quite a bit smaller than Vincent's。 We are speaking not so much of pure physical strength now； Lieutenant； but of an inner strength。'
'Look； Linnear； the only inner strength I've ever seen is from David Carradine in 〃Kung Fu〃 and I didn't believe a bit of it。'
Nicholas smiled。 'Then we must begin to educate you； Lieutenant。'
Croaker stood up； said； 'Then you agree with Ito here。 You think these two were killed by a Japanese。'
'Well； I can think of a small number of occidentals who are kenjutsu sensei。 But none of them could kill this way。 This is a spiritual killing that would be far beyond them。'
Croaker stared down at Terry's smashed chest。 'Ain't nothing spiritual about this； my man。 This is the work of a pile driver。'
'Was there any kind of a murder weapon found in Terry's house？〃 Nicholas asked。
'Just a sword …'
'Terry's katana；' Vincent interrupted； his gaze shooting the message； 'lying by his side。'
'Yeah；' Croaker said。 'But no blood on it； nothing like that。 No other possible weapon that could've done that。 But that don't mean shit。 The guy could've taken off with it。'
'He didn't；' Nicholas said。 'Lieutenant； killing has been a high art in Japan for almost two centuries。 In another time； it was a way of life for the Japanese。 And today； though there is the modern Japan which stands in its place； still the old ways remain。 Still there is bushido； the Way of the Warrior。'
〃Yeah？ What the hell is it； then？'
Nicholas laughed。 'I don't think I could explain it in a few minutes。'
'That's okay； I've got bags of time。' Croaker extracted a MintyPick from his breast pocket； rolled it between his teeth。 'I ain't eaten in much too long。 What say you and I talk mis out over a meal？'
Nicholas nodded and Croaker turned to Vincent。 'Say； Doc； I'll sign for the bags while I'm here。'
'Right。' Vincent went round the corner to the small alcove where a number of polythene bundles waited for collection by the police： homicide victims' effects and clothes。 Vincent brought two bundles back to Croaker； gave him a form to sign。
Croaker looked up； giving Vincent back his pen。 'I'll be in touch；' he said。
Nicholas's call made Doc Deerforth uneasy； and while Nicholas had been brief； he'd given more than enough for Doc Deerforth to chew on。
He had appointments until twelve…thirty but directly his last patient said good…bye； he left the office and drove out to Dune Road。 He had been in constant touch with Ray Florum； of course； but there had been no progress on the two murder cases and； reluctantly； he had had to let the county detectives in。 Not that it would do any good； Doc Deerforth thought sourly as he drove across the steel drawbridge onto Dune Road： the county people were like the Keystone Kops； all gung…ho and no expertise。
He turned right and settled back。 Gulls rose； wheeling over the water on his left； circling about the two stories of The Crosstree； Dune Road's newest condominium。 It was tan and dark brown with a maze of outside staircases on this； the landward side。 Soon the condominiums gave grudging way to private houses。
The thought of the ninja haunted him all the way out to Justine's house。 Ever since he had bee aware of the evidence； he hadn't had a decent night's sleep。 In dreams he would return to the steaming jungles； to the mortar fire by day； the snipers' fire by night。 But it was one specific night he dreaded most of all and even in his dreams he fought against remembering。 Soon； he knew； he would have to resort to chloral hydrate to knock himself into a dreamless abyss。
He parked the car on the side of the house； took the elevated slatted…wood pathway over the dunes and scrub grass to the beach。 He went up the stairs； knocked on the screen door。 Behind him the water surged and； down the beach； he could hear the cries of children as they ran into the surf。 A shaggy dog barked； leaping along the sand in pursuit of a wobbling Frisbee。 The sand was a patchwork of oiled bodies； brightly coloured blankets and striped sun umbrellas。 A cool breeze blew in off the water and； for a moment at least； there came the drone of an airplane。
Justine came to the door； opened it。 She smiled。 'Hi。 What brings you out here？'
'Nothing special；' Doc Deerforth lied。 'I was out this way and thought