ericlustbader.the ninja-第39章

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pet　met　the　edge　of　the　rear　seat；　he　scored　a　line　with　the　scalpel。　He　made　a　second　cut　so　that　the　two　were　in　a　T　shape。　Then　he　peeled　back　the　small　flaps　and　inserted　a　round　object　no　more　than　half　an　inch　in　diameter　and；　using　an　odourless　epoxy　resin；　he　closed　the　flaps　carefully。　Next　he　turned　his　attention　to　the　phone。　He　opened　the　box　and；　ignoring　the　receiver；　placed　a　second　disk　on　the　inside　wall　of　the　box。　He　sat　in　the　back　seat　precisely　where　he　knew　Tomkin　sat　and　opened　the　box；　looking　down　at　the　receiver。　He　could　not　see　the　disk。　Satisfied；　he　closed　the　box。　He　turned　off　the　pencil　flash　and　let　himself　out　of　the　limo。　Within　twenty　seconds　he　was　walking　down　Fifty…first　Street；　hunched　over　in　his　black　nylon　windbreaker。　In　all；　he　had　been　in　the　limo　precisely　nine　minutes。
　Now　as　he　worked　on　the　riveting　in　the　atrium　lobby　of　Tomkin　Industries；　the　man　worked　on　the　problem　of　getting　upstairs。
　At　lunchtime　he　took　the　outside　cage　elevator　up　as　far　as　it　would　go；　one　floor　below　Tomkin's　office。　Here　the　hallways　were　still　raw　plaster。　Pencil　marks　were　strewn　about　like　engineering　graffiti。　The　corridors　were　deserted　but　he　was　careful　enough　and　there　were　numerous　doorways　to　plunge　into。　Every　so　often　he　paused　and；　pletely　still；　listened　to　the　sounds　of　the　building。　He　would　know　instantly　if　there　was　the　slightest　change。
　He　was　not　worried　about　his　face。　There　was　flesh…coloured　putty　on　his　cheeks　and　the　bridge　of　his　nose　had　been　built　up。　Treated　cotton　rolls　were　placed　in　his　mouth　between　gums　and　cheek。　Too；　his　posture　had　changed　from　the　man　who　had　entered　Terry　Tanaka's　dojo。　He　had　bee　slightly　stoop…shouldered　arid　he　walked　with　a　noticeable　limp；　as　if　one　leg　were　shorter　than　the　other。　This　was　due　to　an　inch　lift　in　his　right　shoe。　Disguising　one's　face　was　all　well　and　good　but　there　were　a　myriad　ways　one　could　be　identified　by　an　expert。　One　had　to　be　as　meticulous　about　all　parts　of　the　body　as　one　was　about　the　face　…　the　overall　image。　A　disguise　had　to　be　total。　One　needed　only　the　slightest　alterations；　however；　because　the　idea　was　camouflage　and　it　did　not　do　to　overdo　specific　characteristics。
　He　found　the　fire　stairs；　went　carefully　up　to　the　top　floor。　Here　there　was　much　activity。　Both　workers　and　Tomkin's　staff　were　present。　All　the　better；　he　thought。
　Tomkin's　office；　a　full　corner　of　the　floor；　was　nine…tenths　plete　but　it　had　priority　because　he　was　already　working　out　of　it。　Therefore　lunch　breaks　were　not　observed　up　here。　The　morning　shift　went　down　to　eat　while　a　swing　shift　arrived　to　continue　the　work。　The　man　was　just　in　time　to　join　them。　He　walked　past　the　steady　gaze　of　Frank；　who　stood　just　inside　the　thick　metal　doors　to　the　office。　This　was　hardly　the　most　difficult　part。　It　was　doing　what　he　had　to　do　in　plain　sight　of　everyone。
　The　answer；　of　course；　was　easy。　He　merely　had　to　look　as　if　he　knew　what　he　was　doing　and　no　one　paid　him　the　slightest　attention。　It　might　even　have　been　amusing；　the　way　in　which　he　performed　the　most　clandestine　of　movements　out　in　the　open　like　the　living　embodiment　of　'The　Purloined　Letter'；　if　he　had　allowed　himself　the　luxury　of　feeling。　That；　however；　was　quite　impossible　for　him　in　this　context；　thus　it　was　merely　an　object　of　intellectual　curiosity　like　a　peculiarly　striated　rock　brought　home　from　a　summer　field　trip。
　He　had；　of　course；　to　work　in　fits　and　starts：　that　is；　to　work　on　what　was　his　own　in　between　what　he　was　given。
　This　presented　no　problems　other　than　extending　his　time　in　the　office。
　He　turned　it；　however；　to　his　own　advantage；　as　was　his　wont；　by　using　the　time　to　memorize　the　contours；　the　tiny　nooks　and　crannies；　the　open　spaces　and　the　closed。　He　found　where　the　wall　was　baffled　and　where　it　was　bare　beneath　the　paint　and　plaster；　where　the　wiring　went　and　the　placement　of　all　of　the　electrical　outlets；　where　the　circuit　breakers　were　and　where　the　auxiliary　lighting。　At　the　moment　none　of　these　things　fitted　in　with　his　plans　but　one　never　knew　when　the　knowledge　might　be　crucial。　Meticulous　planning　was　essential；　however；　one　always　had　to　build　into　one's　plans　a　bit　of　leeway　because　events　had　a　peculiar　way　of　determining　themselves　and　often；　too　often；　a　random　element　…　an　extra　guard；　a　rainstorm；　even　an　unexpected　sound；　a　minute　thing　that　could　not　be　foreseen　…　slipped　in。　One　never　knew。
　By　one…thirty　he　was　finished　and；　still　under　the　jaundiced　eye　of　Frank；　he　went　out　with　the　rest　of　the　swing　crew。　Outside　the　metal　doors；　they　turned　to　their　right；　heading　towards　the　outside　cage　elevator　one　floor　below。　As　he　was　turning　the　corner；　the　elevator　at　the　end　of　the　hallway　sighed　open　and　Tomkin；　acpanied　by　Whistle；　appeared。
　The　man　paused　for　a　moment；　his　dead　eyes　glittery。　How　easy　it　would　be；　he　thought　languidly；　to　take　him　out　now。　Whistle　dead　on　his　knees　and　the　big　man　tumbling　through　the　hot　air　to　the　unfinished　pavement　below。　He　liked　it；　it　had　a　certain　irony　to　it。　But　he　did　not　admire　it　and　that　made　all　the　difference　in　the　world。　It　was　not　elegant；　for　one　thing；　and；　for　another；　there　would　be　little　terror　in　it　for　Tomkin：　just　the　brief　moments　he　would　be　airborne；　the　hot　wind　in　his　face　while　the　rubble　of　the　sidewalk　reached　up　for　him。　What　would　Tomkin　think　of　in　those　instants；　the　man　wondered。　God？　Oblivion？　Hell？　The　man　shrugged　inwardly。　It　made　little　difference。　He　could　understand　none　of　these　Western　concepts。　There　was　only　karma　for　him。　Karma　and　the　arni　he　would　inhabit　when　he　died；　waiting　the　prescribed　time　until　he　returned　in　another　body；　in　another　life；　carrying　his　karma。
　This　concept　of　life　that　was　so　basic；　so　fundamental；　was；　he　knew；　beyond　the　conception　of　men　like　Tomkin。　This　did　not　make　him　any　easier　to　kill；　the　doing　was　just　that　much　less　absorbing。　It　was　the　mechanics　of　the　penetration；　the　sowing　of　the　terror　which　occupied　part　of　his　mind；　the　act　of　killing　itself　would　mean　as　much　to　him　as　stepping　on　a　cockroach。　After　all；　that　was　what　Tomkin　was。　He　could　never　be　called　a　civilized　man。
　As　to　the　eventual　escape；　the　man　knew　that　on　this　assignment　there　was　a　possibility　that　it　would　not　happen。　It　did　not　faze　him　in　the　least；　for　it　was　something　towards　which　he　had　prepared　all　his　life。　To　die　as　a　warrior　was　life's　highest　aspiration；　after　all；　for　history　recorded　the　manner　of　one's　death　and　it　was　in　this　that　one　was　remembered　forever；　not　how　one　lived　one's　life。
　Not　that　he　might　ever　be　caught　eliminating　Tomkin。　It　was　the　other　half　of　his　plan：　the　part　that　made　it　all　worthwhile。　He　was　being　paid　a　small　fortune　to　take　out　Tomkin；　but　money　meant　very　little　to　him。　In　fact；　when　he　had　arrived　to　take　a　look　around　…　as　he　had　put　it　to　his　then　potential　employers　…　he　had　not　been　certain　he　would　take　the　assignment。　But　he　had　e　upon　something　so　startling；　so　irresistible　that　he　could　not　refuse。　He　had　learned　early　to　take　what　life　gave。　He　was　being　given　something　now　that　was　so　fantastic　that　he　found　himself　salivating　at　the　prospect。　To　turn　away　from　such　an　opportunity　would　be　a　crime。　The　chance　would　never　e　again。　The　set…up　would　never　be　so　sweet。
　And　this　had　been　the　second　reason　for　not　taking　Tomkin　out　at　this　moment。　Besides；　it　would；　by　necessity；　have　to　be　sloppy；　this　kind　of　total　improvization　went　against　his　grain。　He　could　do　it　and　do　it　well　but　he　resisted　it。　He　hated　to　mop　up　all　the　loose　ends　after　the　fact。　He　liked　things　clean　and　neat；　in　another　life　he　might　have　made　a　superb　diamond　cutter。
　So　it　was　that　he　just　took　a　long；　hard　look　at　Tomkin　as　he　strode　down　the　hallway；　unaware　that　death　was　at　his　left　hand。
　Then　the　man　had　moved　on；　down　the　unfinished　corridor；　ducking　a　loose　loop　of　wire　flex　hanging　from　an　open　panel　in　the　ceiling。　In　a　moment　he　was　through　the　door　to　the　fire　stairs；　off　the　floor。
　Once　down　in　the　atrium　lobby；　half　in　shadows；　he　poked　a　finger　in　his　ear　as　if　scratching　an　itch。　In　the　canal　was　now　placed　a　flesh…coloured　plastic　sphere；　flattened　on　the　outside。　It　was　totally　undetectable。　He　touched　the　top　of　it　with　the　tip　of　his　index　finger　and　began　to　listen。
　Nicholas　felt　it　as　he　turned　away　from　the　line　of　shining　chromium　phones　along　one　wall　of　the　station：　that　premonitory　tickle　at　the　base　of　his　neck。　He　began　to　walk　calmly　towards　a　bookstore；　though　he　had　had　no　intention　of　going　in　there。　It　was　merely　the　way　he　was　headed　and　he　did　not　want　to　make　any　sudden　alteration　in　his　movements。　He　stood　by　the　window；　however；　instead　of　going　in　at　the　open　door。　People　passed　him；　going　in　and　out。　There　was　a　short　line　at　the　cash　register；　there　was　a　sale　on；　20　per　cent　off　the　top　ten　paperback　best　sellers。
　He　stood　at　a　slight　angle；　not　looking　inside…　but　using　the　plate　glass　as　one　would　a　mirror。　He　watched　covertly　a　good　section　of　the　station　behind　him。　Observation　was　made　difficult　by　the　poor　refraction；　the　glare　of　the　lights；　the　distortion　of　image　caused　by　the　glass　itself。　He　accepted　all　of　these　and　made　allowances。
　It　was　not　good　to　stay　here　too　long。　He　glanced　at　his　watch。　He　still　had　fifteen　minutes　and　he　had　no　reason　to　sit　for　that　time　on　the　waiting　train。　Especially　not　now。
　He　walked　away　from　the　bookstore　window；　moving　diagonally　across　the　station。　An　old　woman；　her　suitcase　on　wheels；　crossed　his　path　and　two　sailors　in　crisp　whites　passed　him；　one　spinning　the　tail　end　of　a　lewd　joke　to　the　other。　The　young　woman　at　the　pillar　was　no　longer　there；　either　she　had　met　her　date　or　had　given　it　up；　three　dark…haired　children　squired　by　a　dour…looking　woman　scampered　along；　laughing　and　teasing　each　other。　A　man　in　a　dark　windbreaker　stood　by　the　bank　of　lockers；　a　lit　cigarette　dangling　from　one　corner　of　his　mouth。　Opposite；　a　man　in　a　camel…coloured　suit　flipped　through　the　pages　of　the　current　Hustler；　putting　it　down　as　a　man　with　a　tan　briefcase　came　up　to　him。　They　shook　hands　and　walked　off。
　Nicholas　entered　a　Nedicks；　wedged　himself　in　next　to　a　fat　man　devouring　a　slice　of　coconut　cream　pie。　A　dollar　bill　and　some　change　were　on　the　counter　before　him；　his　lips　were　dotted　with　pie　crust　and　flecks　of　ersatz　cream。　The　man　ignored　Nicholas　as　he　sat　down　on　a　stool。　He　ordered　a　frank　and　an　orange　drink。　The　columns　of　the　place　were　mirrored　and　Nicholas　used　these　to　continue　his　covert　surveillance　while　he　ate。　He　got　his　food；　paid　for　it。
　The　feeling　was　still　there；　unmistakable。　There　was　only　one　explanation。　He　was　being　observed　by　a　haragei　adept。　The　receiver　was　also　a　transmitter；　there　was　no　way　to　damp　the　two…way　effect。　This　one　had　just　e　too　close；　that　was　all。　Careless。　And　foolish。
　Nicholas　wiped　his　lips　with　the　stiff　napkin；　took　one　last　look　in　the　mirror　and　went　out。　He　had　just　over　five　minutes　before　the　train　left　and　in　that　time　he　would　have　to　flush　the　adept。　He　had　no　thoughts　now　about　missing　the　train；　his　overriding　concern　was　for　Justine。　She　was　most　assuredly　in　danger　and　he　felt　totally　impotent　being　so　far　fro