ericlustbader.the ninja-第8章

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t　touch　it；'　he　said　sharply　and　she　withdrew　the　extended　finger　in　alarm。　'It　would　sever　your　finger。'

　He　saw　her　reflection　in　the　blade；　eyes　opened　wide；　lips　slightly　parted。　He　could　hear　her　breathing　beside　him。
　'Let　me　see　a　little　more　of　it。'　She　brushed　a　stray　lock　of　hair　out　of　her　eyes。　'It's　beautiful。　Has　it　a　name？'
　'Yes；'　he　said；　thinking　of　Cheong　and　Itami。　'Iss…hogai。　It　means　〃for　life。〃'
　'Did　you　name　it？'
　'No；　my　father　did。'
　'I　like　the　name；　it　fits；　somehow。'
　〃There's　magic　in　a　Japanese…forged　blade；'　he　said；　replacing　the　dai…katana　in　its　scabbard。　'This　particular　sword　is　almost　two　hundred　years　old　yet　its　manufacture　is　so　superb　that　it　does　not　show　even　a　year's　wear。'　He　replaced　the　weapon。　'The　finest　blade　the　world　has　ever　known　or　ever　will　know。'
　The　phone　rang　and　he　went　to　it。
　'Nick。　It's　Vincent。'

　'Hey。　How　are　you？'
　Tine。　Actually；　I'm　on　my　way　out　to　your　neck　of　the　woods　…　or　shore；　as　it　were。'
　'The　Island？'
　'Better　than　that。　West　Bay　Bridge。'
　'Hey；　that's　great。　I　haven't　seen　you　since　…'
　'March；　if　you　want　to　know。　Listen；　I'm　going　to　be　staying　at　Doc　Deerforth's　in　town。'
　'No　you're　not。　You're　staying　out　here　by　the　beach。　There's　plenty　of　room；　you　can't　swim　in　town。'
　'Sorry；　but　this　isn't　a　vacation；　and　until　I　find　out　what's　going　on　I'd　better　plan　to　stay　with　the　doc。'
　'How's　Nate？'
　'As　usual　or　thereabouts。　There's　too　much　work　there　for　all　of　us。'
　Nicholas　glanced　at　Justine；　who　was　leafing　through　her　sketchbook；　one　hand　run　through　her　thick　hair。　While　he　watched；　she　leaned　across　the　sofa；　reached　out　a　pencil　from　her　bag；　began　to　continue　the　unfinished　sketch　she　had　been　contemplating。
　'Someone　there　with　you？'
　'Yes。'
　'I　see。　Well；　I'll　be　out　late　this　afternoon。'　He　laughed；　his　voice　sounding　for　the　first　time　thin　and　strained。　'It　must　really　be　something。　Graumann's　given　me　the　car　and　Tommy。　All　I　have　to　do　is　sit　in　the　back　seat　and　take　a　nap。'　He　sighed。　'Poor　me。　A　few　years　ago；　before　the　fiscal　crunch；　I'd　be　ing　out　in　a　Lincoln。　Now　I　have　to　be　content　with　a　diarrhea…tan　Plymouth。'
　Nicholas　laughed。　'Give　me　a　ring　when　you're　settled　in　and　you'll　e　over　for　a　drink。'
　'Right。　'Bye。'
　He　cradled　the　receiver；　sat　down　next　to　Justine。　His　eyes　traced　the　new　lines　she　had　made　but　his　mind　was　far　away。
　'I　think　I　see　now　why　you　asked　for　me　to　e　out；〃　Vincent　said。
　'You　know　what　this　stuff　is？'　Doc　Deerforth　said。
　Vincent　rubbed　at　his　eyes　with　thumb　and　forefinger。　The　harsh　fluorescent　lights　hurt　his　eyes。　He　reached　up；　pulled　the　gooseneck　incandescent　lamp　closer　to　the　sheets　of　paper　he　had　been　reading。　'I　don't　quite　know　what　to　think；　to　be　honest。'
　'The　man　we　just　saw　downstairs　did　not　die　of　drowning。'
　'Of　that　there　is　no　doubt。'　Vincent　nodded　his　agreement。　'Whatever　he　died　of；　it　wasn't　asphyxiation。'
　'As　you　can　see；'　Doc　Deerforth　said；　indicating　the　contents　of　the　folder　in　Vincent's　hands；　'he　had　no　previous　record　of　heart　failure　or　any　cardiac　problem　at　all；　none　in　his　family。　He　was　a　perfectly　healthy　thirty…six…year…old　male　Caucasian；　slightly　out　of　shape　but　…'
　'He　died　of　a　massive　M。I。'　Vincent　pleted　the　sentence。　'Heart　attack。'
　'Induced；　I'm　convinced；'　Doc　Deerforth　said；　bending　forward　and　stabbing　at　the　printed　sheet；　'by　that　substance。'
　'Have　you　fed　it　through　the　puter？'
　Doc　Deerforth　shook　his　head。　'Remember　that　as　far　as　anyone　here　is　concerned；　this　is　an　〃accidental　death　by　drowning〃；　at　least　as　of　now。　Anyway；　you　must　be　aware　dial　it　would　do　no　good　at　all。'
　'What　about　the　delay　in　your　report　to　the　C。M。E。？'　Vincent　snapped　shut　the　folder；　handed　it　over　to　Doc　Deerforth。
　'Why；　didn't　I　tell　you？　I'm　having　a　bit　of　trouble　with　the　man's　family。'　Doc　Deerforth　placed　the　folder　under　his　arm　and　guided　Vincent　out　of　the　lab；　turning　out　the　lights。　The　twenty…minute　drive　back　to　West　Bay　Bridge　seemed　awfully　long　to　him　all　of　a　sudden。
　Justine　sat　scrunched　down　in　a　far　corner　of　the　couch；　knees　drawn　up；　arms　about　her　legs。　Her　open　sketchpad　lay　on　the　low　wooden　coffee　table　in　front　of　them。　Across　the　room；　the　windowpanes　were　still　teary；　though　most　of　the　rain　had　dissipated　into　a　low　mist。
　'Tell　me　about　Japan；'　she　said　abruptly；　bringing　her　face　down　until　it　was　level　with　his。　Her　cool　eyes　regarded　him　far　from　impassively。
　'I　haven't　been　back　in　a　very　long　time；'　he　said。
　'What's　it　like？'
　'Different。　Very　different。'
　'You　mean　the　language。'
　'Oh；　that's　part　of　it；　of　course。　But　it's　more　basic　than　that。　You　can　go　to　France　or　Spain；　have　to　deal　with　other　languages。　But　after　all；　the　thought　processes　are　not　that　much　different。　Not　in　Japan。　The　Japanese　confound　most　Westerners；　frighten　them；　too；　oddly　enough。'
　'Not　really；'　she　observed。　'Everyone's　frightened　of　what　they　don't　understand。'
　'And　then；'　he　said；　'there　are　some　who　understand　right　away。　My　father　was　one　of　those。　He　loved　the　East。'
　'As　do　you。'
　'Yes；'　he　said。　'As　do　I。'
　'What　made　you　e　here？'
　He　watched　her　as　the　darkness　came　slowly　down；　as　the　world　outside　turned　blue；　wondering　how　she　could　be　so　insightful　in　her　questions　and　at　the　same　time　so　evasive　in　her　answers。　Inside　the　house；　where　they　sat　near　the　bubbling　fish　tank；　the　light　was　like　yellow　custard。
　'I　no　longer　wanted　to　be　in　Japan；'　he　said；　recognizing　in　the　simple　statement　both　the　truth　and　the　utter　insufficiency　of　the　words。　But　would　any　words　have　sufficed？　He　could　not　say　with　any　certainty。
　'So　you　came　here　and　went　into　advertising。'
　He　nodded。　'In　effect；　yes。'
　'And　left　your　family？'
　'I　have　no　family。'　The　words　came　out　cold　and　hard；　as　individually　devastating　as　bullets；　and　she　recoiled。
　'You　make　me　feel　ashamed　that　I　never　talk　to　my　sister；'　she　said；　turning　her　face　away　from　him　for　a　moment　as　if　to　demonstrate　her　embarrassment　actively。
　'You　must　hate　her　a　great　deal。'
　She　spun　her　head　back。　'That　was　a　cruel　thing　to　say。'
　'It　was？'　He　was　genuinely　surprised。　'I　don't　think　so。'　He　looked　at　her。　'Are　you　indifferent　about　her？　That　would　be　far　worse；　I　think。'
　'No；'　she　said。　'No；　I'm　not　indifferent　to　her。　She's　my　sister。　I　…　I　don't　flunk　you　could　understand；'　she　finished　somewhat　lamely　and　he　knew　she　had　meant　to　say　something　else；　only　changing　her　mind　at　the　last　instant。
　'Why　won't　you　talk　about　your　father？　You　spoke　about　him　before　in　the　past　tense。　Is　he　dead？'
　There　was　a　look　in　her　eyes；　a　kind　of　reflective　opacity　as　if　she　were　staring　into　a　fire；　as　she　said；　'Yes。　He's　as　dead　as　he　could　possibly　be。'　She　got　off　the　sofa；　went　over　to　the　fish　tank；　peering　in　with　a　kind　of　coiled　intensity　as　if　she　longed　to　shrink　in　size　and　jump　into　the　salt　water；　being　one　with　the　crowd　idling　there。　'What　difference　could　it　make　to　you；　anyway？　I'm　not　my　father's　daughter；　I　don't　believe　in　all　that　shit。'　But　her　tone　said　otherwise　and　Nicholas　found　himself　wondering　just　what　it　was　her　father　had　done　to　her　that　she　should　despise　him　so。
　'What　about　your　sister？'　he　said。　'I'm　curious　because　I　was　an　only　child。'
　She　turned　away　from　the　tank；　the　water's　reflection　in　the　overhead　light　dappling　one　side　of　her　face　as　if　she　were　submerged；　some　exotic　sea　creature　attracted　by　the　motion　of　his　descent。　He　imagined　they　were　at　the　bottom　of　the　sea；　puckered　kelp　like　stately　bamboo　waving　in　the　deep　current's　breeze；　he　imagined　they　spoke　sonically；　bone　to　bone；　vibrations　batted　back　and　forth　like　a　tennis…ball。
　'Gelda。'　Her　voice　had　captured　an　odd　quality　that　he　could　not　place；　'My　older　sister。'　She　sucked　in　some　air。　'You're　lucky　to　be　alone；　some　things　shouldn't　be　shared；　some　things　are　better　left　where　they　are。'
　'Buried　in　the　sand　of　the　sea　floor？'　he　wondered。　It　seemed　irrational　to　blame　her　for　failing　to　take　him　into　her　confidence　yet　he　found　himself　annoyed　by　her　obdurate　reticence。
　Abruptly；　he　felt　a　tearing　need　to　share　her　secrets：　her　humiliations；　her　childish　maunderings；　her　hate　and　love　and　fear；　her　shame；　the　core　that　made　this　bolt　of　silk　what　it　was；　as　different　and　fascinatingly　imperfect　as　some　strange　glowing　gem。　Her　mystery　pulled　him　onwards　and；　like　a　marathon　swimmer　who　has　reached　his　limit　and；　passing　it；　finds　himself　about　to　go　under　with　the　realization　that　he　has　attempted　to　discover　and　defeat　something　far　too　powerful　for　him；　he　knew　that　this　same　realization　was　the　key　to　his　reaching　down　to　find　the　unplumbed　reserves　which　would　carry　him　onwards　to　reach　the　far　shore。
　But　for　Nicholas　it　was　somewhat　different；　for　part　of　him；　at　least；　was　well　aware　of　those　things　which　lay　hidden　there　within　that　interminable　beach；　and　he　shuddered　to　face　them　again；　to　gaze　upon　their　hideous　countenances。　For　once　before　he　had　e　upon　them　and　had　almost　been　destroyed。

　They　went　out　of　the　house　into　the　summer　night。　The　clouds　had　delivered　themselves　westward　and　the　sky　was　at　last　clear。　The　stars　shone；　winking；　like　ornaments　on　velvet；　making　them　feel　as　if　the　world　had　wrapped　them　in　a　shawl　manufactured　especially　for　that　occasion。
　They　strolled　along　the　beach　at　the　waterline；　far　out；　for　it　was　low　tide。　Their　feet　picked　up　the　damp　sea　grapes　and　their　soles　felt　the　brief　pain　of　the　fiddler　crab　shells。
　The　surf　tumbled　in　low；　faintly　phosphorescent　hillocks　that　seemed　like　another　world　viewed　from　the　wrong　end　of　a　telescope。　Near　to　hand；　they　were　alone　on　the　beach；　a　point　of　orange；　a　smokily　glowing　coal；　bespoke　a　late　barbecue　in　the　lee　of　a　dune　far　down　the　night。
　'Are　you　afraid　of　me？'　His　voice　was　as　light　as　mist。
　'No；'　she　said。　'I'm　not。'　She　stuffed　her　hands　in　the　front　pockets　of　her　jeans。　'I'm　just　afraid。　It's　been　with　me　for　more　than　a　year　and　a　half；　this　fear　like　a　diamond　shadow…image　I　can't　manage　to　shake。'
　'We're　all　afraid　…　of　something　or　other。'
　'Jesus；　Nick；　don't　patronize　me。　You've　never　been　afraid　like　this。'
　'Because　I'm　a　man？'
　'Because　you're　you。'　She　stared　fixedly　away　from　him；　his　muscularity。　She　rubbed　her　palms　along　her　bare　arms；　he　thought　she　shivered。　'Oh；　Christ。'
　He　bent　down；　scooped　up　a　sand…encrusted　stone。　He　wiped　it　off；　feeling　its　ineffable　smoothness　against　his　skin。　Time　had　taken　away　all　the　edges；　time　had　dictated　its　shape。　Yet　the　essence　of　the　stone　…　its　mooted　colour；　striations；　imperfections　of　structure；　density　and　hardness　…　remained。　Indomitable。
　She　took　the　stone　from　him　and　hurled　it　far　out　into　the　water。　It　struck　the　surface　of　the　sea　without　a　splash　and　sank　from　sight　as　if　it　had　never　existed；　but　Nicholas　could　still　feel　the　weight　of　it　where　it　had　rested　in　the　palm　of　his　hand。
　'It　would　be　so　simple；'　he　said；　'if　we　could　approach　people　we　cared　for　without　any　past　so　we　could　see　them　without　any　coloration。'
　She　stood　silently　regarding　him　and　only　a　slight　tremor　along　her　neck　told　him　that　she　had　heard。
　'But　we　can'