ericlustbader.the ninja-第50部分

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ation　for　about　ten　days。　If　that　man　came　to　Terry　for　kenjutsu　there　was　only　one　way　he　could　possibly　be　acmodated。　By　Terry　himself。'
　Croaker　shrugged。　'What's　so　odd　about　that？　Linnear　told　me　that　Tanaka　was　an　expert　at　kenjutsu；　a　…　sensei；　did　you　call　it？'
　Vincent　nodded。　'Yeah；　but　what　Nick　obviously　didn't　tell　you　is　that　Terry　had　put　his　katana　away。　He　had　what　I　can　only　describe　as　a　spiritual　change　of　heart。　He　no　longer　found　pleasure　in　kenjutsu；　he　no　longer　practised　it。'
　'When　did　this　happen？〃
　'I'm　not　really　certain。　Perhaps　as　long　as　six　months　ago。'
　'Then　why　didn't　Linnear　tell　me？'
　Vincent　poured　more　sake　for　them　both。　'To　tell　you　the　truth；　I'm　not　sure　Nick　knows。　He's　…　well；　he's　also　had　a　kind　of　spiritual　change　of　heart；　only　he's　still　going　through　his　and　I　don't　know　what　it　entails。　We're　still　very　close；　he　and　I；　and　he　was　close　with　Terry；　too；　but　he'd　withdrawn　somewhat。　I'm　sure　Terry　had　the　opportunity　to　tell　him　but　I　rather　think　he　chose　not　to。'　He　shrugged。　'Anyway；　if　this　is　the　man'　…　he　tapped　the　drawings　…　'he'd　be　disguised。　I　might　know　him　or　Nicholas　might　but　we'd　never　be　able　to　tell　you　from　one　of　those。'
　Croaker　nodded。　'Okay。'　He　began　to　put　the　drawings　away。
　Vincent　put　a　hand　out。　'Why　don't　you　wait　until　Nick　es？　It　couldn't　hurt　for　him　to　see　them。'
　'Linnear　called　me　late　this　afternoon。　He　went　back　to　West　Bay　Bridge。　His　girl　had　an　accident。'　He　finished　putting　the　drawings　away。　'Nobody　saw　this　bastard　going　in　or　out。　Not　at　the　dojo　or　Terry's　apartment。'
　'I'm　not　surprised。　This　man's　a　professional。　A　highly　dangerous　professional。　I'm　afraid　you　don't　know　what　you're　up　against　here。'
　'That's　just　what　Linnear　told　me；'　Croaker　growled。　'I　don't　like　hearing　it。'
　'It's　the　truth；　Lieutenant。　You'd　better　face　facts。　This　guy　can　put　away　just　about　anyone　he　chooses。'
　'Even　Raphael　Tomkin？'
　Vincent　nodded。　'Even　him。'
　'It's　been　tried　a　dozen　times；'　Croaker　pointed　out。　'By　professionals。'
　Vincent　sighed。　'This　professional　is　different。　We　are　not　talking　about　a　hit　man　from　Detroit　or　wherever　they　manufacture　them。'
　'Jersey　City；'　Croaker　said　with　a　thin　smile。
　'Yeah；　well；　this　is　a　ninja；　Lieutenant。　pared　with　a　professional　hit　man　he's　Houdini；　Superman　and　Spiderman　all　wrapped　up　into　one。'　Vincent　tapped　the　table　with　the　tip　of　his　forefinger。　'The　man's　a　sorcerer。'
　Croaker　stared　into　the　other's　eyes；　trying　to　find　some　hint　of　irony。　He　found　none。　'You're　serious；　aren't　you？〃
　'At　the　risk　of　sounding　melodramatic；　deadly　serious。'
　The　waiter　returned　and　they　ordered　dinner　along　with　more　safe。　'Take　your　time；'　Vincent　told　the　waiter；　who　nodded　and　went　out。
　'Linnear　took　me　to　a　kenjutsu　dojo　today；'　Croaker　said。
　'Which　one？'
　'I　don't　know　the　name　of　it。　I　met　the　sensei。　Man　named　Fukashigi。'
　There　was　an　odd　look　in　Vincent's　eye。　'You're　quite　a　privileged　person。　Very　few　Westerners　are　allowed　entrance。　And　for　Nicholas　to　take　you。。。'　He　whistled　silently。
　'Yeah；'　Croaker　joked。　'And　that　was　after　I'd　insulted　him。　He　certainly　doesn't　hold　any　grudges。'
　Now　Vincent's　eyes　were　sad　and　he　said；　'It　was　not　for　him　to　be　angry　but　for　you　to　know　that　you　have　now　lost　face。'
　'Lost　face？　What　do　you　mean？；'
　'Simply　this。　Relationships　are　based　on　respect　…　mutual　respect。　With　that　es　trust。　And　obligation。　I　will　not　ask　you　what　you　did　…　no；　don't　tell　me；　I　have　no　wish　to　know　…but　I　will　say　that　if　you　have　offended　him　then　his　respect　for　you　has　lessened。'　^
　'What　the　hell　do　I　care　what　he　thinks　of　me？'
　'Ah；　well；　perhaps　you　don't。'　Vincent　smiled。　'If　that's　the　case；　no　more　may　be　said　of　the　matter。'　He　took　a　deliberate　sip　of　his　safe；　refilled　the　cup。
　Croaker　cleared　his　throat　and；　after　a　time；　said；　'Finish　your　last　thought。'
　'I　was　merely　going　to　say　that　it　is　not　up　to　Nick　to　forgive　you　…　that　he　has　already　done；　otherwise　he　would　not　have　taken　you　to　see　Fukashigi。　It　is　up　to　you　to　seek　to　restore　the　former　balance。〃
　'How　would　I　do　that？'　Croaker　asked　suspiciously。
　'？Ah；　if　I　knew　the　answer　to　that　one；　I'd　be　quite　the　wise　man。'　Vincent　shook　his　head。　'And　tonight；　Lieutenant；　I'm　not　feeling　wise　at　all。'
　There　was　a　man　at　the　sushi　bar　with　invisible　putty　on　his　face。　It　built　up　his　flat　cheekbones；　flattened　his　wide　nose；　deepened　the　sockets　of　his　eyes。　Even　his　mother　would　not　have　recognized　him；　and　she　had　been　a　most　intelligent　woman。
　He　was　halfway　through　a　plate　of　sashimi　when　Vincent　and　Lieutenant　Croaker　entered　the　restaurant　and　were　shown　to　a　tatami　room。　He　did　not　turn　his　head　but　caught　them　in　the　periphery　of　his　vision。
　Several　moments　later；　he　pushed　his　plate　delicately　away　from　him　and　walked　the　length　of　the　room　to　the　rest　room。　The　place　was　dark　and　crowded；　buzzing　with　conversation。　He　had　to　pass　the　tatami　rooms　to　get　there。　The　rest　room　was　empty。　He　washed　his　hands；　peering　at　himself　in　the　mirror。　The　door　opened　and　two　men　walked　in。　The　man　went　out；　past　the　thin　shoji　walls。　He　paid　for　his　meal　and　left。
　Outside　in　the　heat　of　the　summer　night；　he　hailed　a　cruising　taxi。　He　had　to　make　four　switches　before　he　found　one　suitable　for　his　purposes。
　At　precisely　8：18　p。m。　officer　Pete　Travine　pulled　the　patrol　car　over　so　that　the　side　wheels　scraped　the　kerb。　It　was　his　second　cruise　down　Twenty…eighth　Street　and　he　was　certain　now　that　what　he　saw　in　the　alleyway　between　a　brownstone　and　a　tailor's　shop　had　not　been　there　when　he　had　made　his　first　trip　twenty　minutes　ago。　He　had　been　thinking　of　the　old　days；　when　all　cops　rode　in　tandem。　Now；　because　of　the　city's　serious　on…going　fiscal　crisis；　they　were　still　experimenting　in　certain　areas　with　solo　patrols；　despite　concerted　PBA　opposition。
　The　radio　squawked　intermittently；　but　there　was　nothing　in　his　vicinity。　He　parked　the　blue…and…white　and　got　out　a　flashlight；　played　it　over　the　darkened　alley。　The　beam　of　light　hovered　over　a　line　of　garbage　cans　painted　silver。　It　was　quiet　here：　no　pedestrians；　only　the　soft　susurrus　of　the　light　traffic　along　Lexington。
　He　opened　the　kerbside　door；　slid　out。　With　one　hand　he　unsnapped　the　top　of　his　stiff　leather　holster；　the　guard　he　wore　while　driving。
　He　went　cautiously　across　the　sidewalk；　his　flash　flicking　the　darkness。　There　was　an　open　grille　gate　leading　to　four　or　five　steep　concrete　steps　to　the　alley　proper。　The　right　wall　…　the　brownstone's　…　was　blank　for　all　of　its　three　storeys。　The　left　wall　had　windows　beginning　on　the　second　storey　of　the　building。　There　were　apartments　over　the　tailor's　shop。　Odd　lighting；　subtly　kaleidoscopic；　leaked　from　these。　Television　sets　were　on。
　Travine　went　down　the　steps。　He　thought　briefly　of　calling
　in　but　decided　against　it。　He　wanted　to　have　something　concrete　for　them。
　Past　the　line　of　garbage　cans　was　deep　shadow　but　something　protruded　part　way　out　into　the　semi…light；　casting　strange　shadows　upwards　along　the　brick　wall。　It　was　these　that　Travine　had　seen　and　questioned。
　He　stood　over　the　shape　now。　He　took　his　hand　from　his　gun　butt；　crouched　and　reached　out　one　hand。　An　old　burlap　sack　partly　covered　the　shape　but　this　close　Travine　could　see　the　face；　one　cheek　to　the　wall。　Two　fingers　laid　at　the　side　of　the　neck　confirmed　that　the　man　was　dead。
　Travine　got　up　and；　without　disturbing　anything；　went　up　the　steps　to　the　street。　He　looked　both　ways。　A　couple　passed；　arm　in　arm；　walking　downtown　along　Lex。　There　was　no　other　movement。　He　called　in；　then　phoned　the　M。E。's　office。　'I　don't　want　this　to　wait　until　tomorrow；'　he　told　the　associate　on　call。　'I　want　something　tonight。'

　Then　he　went　back　to　the　body　to　I。D。　it　but　there　was　nothing。　No　wallet；　no　money；　no　cards；　nothing。　Yet　the　man　was　obviously　no　derelict。　He　touched　the　body　again。　Not　yet　cold。　He　stood　up。　In　the　distance　the　night　was　split　by　the　sound　of　sirens；　growing　louder。
　Through　fingerprints；　they　were　able　to　establish　the　identity　of　the　man。　That　took　a　little　over　three　hours　and　at　that　moment　they　began　to　wonder　what　had　happened　to　his　taxi。
　Vincent　came　out　of　Michita　looking　for　a　cab。
　He　was　not　a　little　drunk　and　not　in　the　least　bit　ashamed　of　himself。　He　felt　as　light　as　a　balloon　despite　the　sultry；　steaming　night。　All　the　cares　and　worries　which　had　clung　to　him；　weighing　him　down　for　months；　had　sloughed　away；　dead　skin　shed。
　He　walked　a　little　unsteadily；　realizing　it；　curious　about　it；　even　happy　with　it。　He'd　needed　this　loosening　up。
　He　breathed　in　the　heavy　night　air；　leaden　with　exhaust　fumes；　the　odours　of　fried　cooking　from　the　corner　coffee　shop。　He　felt　as　if　he　were　on　the　Ginza　in　Tokyo；　with　its　bustle；　its　crowds；　its　bright　neon　jungle　advertising　nightclubs　and　Western　products。
　He　watched　people　streaming　by　him；　feeling　a　bit　giddy。　He　fought　down　the　impulse　to　giggle　and　then　thought；　why　not？　He　giggled　out　loud。　No　one　appeared　to　notice。
　He　began　to　walk　west。　Traffic　from　Sixth　Avenue　sounded　like　surf　breaking　against　a　far…off　shore。　He　thought　of　Uraga　whe