ericlustbader.the ninja-第48章

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　'I　didn't　have　to　be。　I　knew　him。　Believe　me；　there's　no　illegal　involvement。　At　least；　not　in　the　way　you　think。'
　'Which　leads　us　back　to　bushido；　right？'　He　was　interrupted　by　the　food。　He　waited　until　the　waitress　had　gone　before　he　said；　'You　know；　Linnear；　for　those　two　stiffs　being　your　friends　you　certainly　aren't　broken　up　about　it。'
　Nicholas　sat　perfectly　still。　A　pulse　beat　strongly　in　the　side　of　his　neck；　a　cool　wind　seemed　to　blow　through　his　brain。　There　were　haunting　echoes；　as　if　he　were　hearing　the　words　of　his　ancestors　carried　to　him　through　the　corridors　of　time。　Beneath　the　table；　his　fingers　were　as　stiff　as　knives；　his　thigh　muscles　like　steel。　He　required　no　blade；　no　concealed　weapon。　There　was　only　himself；　as　deadly　a　killing　machine　as　ever　was　created　in　any　country　at　any　time。
　Croaker　was　staring　into　his　eyes。　'It's　all　right；〃　he　said　softly。　He　gestured　with　the　tines　of　his　fork；　laced　with　running　yolk。　'Your　food's　getting　cold。'　He　went　to　work　on　his　own　and　never　knew　just　how　close　he　had　e　to　being　killed。
　There　was　anger　and　then　there　was　anger。　Just　as　there　were　insults　and　there　were　insults。　Lew　Croaker　was　just　another　dumb　Westerner；　Nicholas　told　himself　as　he　ate。　He　had　no　idea　what　he　was　doing　or　what　effect　his　words　would　have。　He　had　said　what　he　had　in　order　to　find　out；　to　read　their　effect　in　Nicholas's　face。　There　should　have　been　no　reaction　at　all。　Bujutsu　had　taught　him　that。　But　it　had　been　a　long　time　and　he　had　been　off　his　guard　because　he　had　been　with　a　Westerner。
　Which　just　goes　to　show　you；　Nicholas　thought。　Danger　es　cloaked　in　many　forms。　Not　that　he　thought　of　Lew　Croaker　as　any　kind　of　danger；　far　from　it。　But；　he　realized；　ignorance　brings　its　own　kind　of　danger　and　Croaker　had　unwittingly　put　his　head　on　the　block。
　Croaker　glanced　up　at　him　from　time　to　time　as　they　ate；　as　Nicholas　tried　to　define　the　plex　concept　of　bushido　to　him。　Obedience　might　be　the　basis　but；　to　Western　minds　at　least；　that　word　had　such　a　pejorative　nature　that　it　seemed　like　the　wrong　beginning。　Because　bushido　was　defined　not　only　by　sociology　and　religion　but　by　history；　too。　To　Americans；　who　thought　in　terms　of　two　hundred　years　when　it　came　to　their　own　country；　the　concept　of　centuries　seemed　like　deep　water　indeed。
　Still；　Croaker　seemed　to　absorb　it　all　quite　seriously；　his　interest　deepening　as　Nicholas　progressed。　At　the　end；　over　coffee；　Croaker　sat　back；　took　out　a　MintyPick。　His　eyes　wandered　for　a　time；　then　he　said；　oddly；　'I　got　an　old　lady；　who　drives　me　bats。　She's　never　around　when　I　get　home。'
　'According　to　you；'　Nicholas　said；　'you　rarely　get　home。〃
　Croaker　took　a　swig　of　the　coffee；　winced；　poured　in　cream。　He　broke　open　a　packet　of　granulated　sugar；　stirred　it　in。　'I　don't　know　what　it　is　but　1　just　can't　seem　to　get　used　to　it　straight。'　He　took　a　swallow；　nodded　approvingly；　looked　up。　'All　right；　I　did　say　that；　yeah。　What　I　mean　is；　the　odd　times　I　do　e　home；　it　makes　it　all　the　worse；　y'know？'
　'You　need　a　new　job；'　Nicholas　said　pointedly。
　'Nah。　I　think　I　need　a　new　lady；　is　all。　See；　Alison's　an　endocrinologist。　She's　been　working　on　a　project　for　three　and　a　half　years。　It　must　be　a　bastard　'cause　I　don't　think　they're　any　closer　now　than　they　were　when　they　started。'　He　rolled　the　toothpick　around　his　mouth；　from　one　side　to　the　other。　'Rebinant　DNA。'　…'Clones；　huh？'
　Croaker　liked　that；　his　face　brightened。　'Yeah。'　He　laughed。　'She's　building　an　army　of　super…fuckin…humans。　Gonna　make　you　an'　me　obsolete；　Jack。'　He　laughed　again。　'Nah；　nothing　so　dramatic。　They're　trying　to　find　a　way　to　alter　the　DNA　in　a　mother's　womb　so　people　with　hereditary　diseases　can　have　children。'　He　brooded　over　his　coffee　for　a　while。　'Things　haven't　been　too　good　for　a　while。　I　think　it's　time　to　get　out。'
　'So　get　out；'　Nicholas　said。
　Croaker　looked　up。　'Yeah。'　There　was　an　awkward　silence。　'Listen；　about　what　I　said　before　…'
　'Let's　go；'　Nicholas　said；　standing　up。　'We've　got　an　appointment　and　it　won't　do　to　be　late。'
　It　was　cool　and　dry　inside　without　the　benefit　of　artificial　air…conditioning。　It　was　as　if　they　were　far　below　the　surface　of　the　earth　where　it　was　naturally　cool。　The　summer　sun　could　not　penetrate　this　far。
　The　walls　were　of　enormous　stone　blocks；　quite　thick；　so　as　to　be　able　to　retain　the　coolness　even　on　the　hottest　of　days；　there　was　a　second　storey　to　take　the　brunt　of　the　sun。
　Over　the　sounds　of　their　movement；　Croaker　could　hear　faint　echoes；　like　calm　voices　heard　at　the　bottom　of　a　pond　through　the　intervening　water；　he　could　not　understand　the　words　but　he　knew　they　were　there。　As　they　moved　closer；　he　could　begin　to　discern　other　sounds　as　well：　wordless　noises　as　precise　as　close…order　army　drill；　recalling　to　him　the　long　days　of　basic　training　in　that　remote；　dusty　town　in　Georgia。
　'Film　and　television　discovered　the　martial　arts　some　years　ago；'　Nicholas　said　as　they　proceeded；　'and　turned　them　into　a　circus　entertainment。　As　a　result；　they're　taken　about　as　seriously　as　professional　wrestling　over　here。　At　best；　they　are　quite　misunderstood　by　Americans。'　Nicholas　stopped　and　turned　to　Croaker。　'The　Way　is　not　mere　killing。　That　is　a　purely　Western　notion。　You　pull　out　a　gun　and　boom！　you　destroy　life。　That　is　not　the　Way。　The　basis　of　all　bujutsu　is　internal。'
　They　began　to　walk　again　and　the　sounds　came　nearer　now。　Croaker　thought　he　heard　the　rhythmic　slap　of　bare　feet　against　wood；　the　crack　of　wood　against　wood　as　if　a　giant　were　playing　an　outsized　percussion　instrument。
　'Bujutsu　is　not　something　to　be　taken　lightly；　Lieutenant；　I　assure　you；'　Nicholas　continued。　'It　is　neither　a　conjurer's　trick　nor　a　parlour　game　amusement；　but　deadly　serious。'　He　turned　his　head。　'I　trust　I'm　not　being　redundant。　I'm　merely　being　careful。　You　see；　the　average　Westerner　will　never　see　nor　even　hear　about　the　true　bujutsu　adept。　Why　should　he；　since　the　adept　neither　wishes　for　nor　gets　any　kind　of　publicity。
　'Despite　its　violent　nature；　bujutsu　is　more　in　synch　with　religion　…　Zen　and　Shinto　specifically　…　than　it　is　with；　say；　sports。　It　is　a　way　of　life；　governed　by　bushido。　An　adept　would　mit　seppuku　…　ritual　suicide　…　rather　than　break　the　code。　Everything　in　life；　Lieutenant　…　every　thing　…　is　subject　to　bushido。　I　hope　you　can　understand　that。'
　'I'm　not　certain　that　I　do；'　Croaker　said　truthfully。　Yet　something　swam　at　the　edge　of　his　consciousness；　tantalizing　him。　He　wondered　what　it　was；　then　shrugged　mentally；　left　it　alone。　Straining　after　it；　he　knew；　would　only　push　it　further　away。
　'It's　not　surprising。'　Nicholas　gave　him　a　bleak　smile　that　contained　no　warmth。　'For　some　Westerners　it　takes　years　to　understand。'　He　was　a　bit　ahead　of　Croaker　now。　'For　others'　…he　shrugged　…　'It　never　es　at　all。'
　There　was　nothing　in　the　world　that　could　make　Gelda　Tomkin　Odile　cry；　yet　she　felt　close　to　tears　now。　She　stood　in　the　coolness　of　her　Sutton　Place　apartment；　looking　out　at　the　bright　sunshine　turning　the　East　River　solid。　It　might　have　been　a　river　of　salt　for　all　the　reality　it　had　for　her。　The　familiar　view　looked　as　flat　as　a　painting　and　as　unappetizing。　Perhaps　it　was　a　painting；　after　all；　she　thought；　but　she　knew　that　she　was　not　thinking　clearly。　That　was　the　one　thing　she　was　happy　about；　what　she　had　been　searching　for。　The　Chivas　was　no　longer　sufficient；　and；　she　thought　wryly；　it's　bad　for　business。　Grass　was　no　damn　good。　She　had　found　that　out　a　long　time　ago。　Because　she　could　control　it　and　she　needed　something　that　controlled　her。　Hallucinogens　were　useless　to　her　and　opium　merely　knocked　her　out。　Then　she　had　found　that　codeine　pills　in　conjunction　with　the　whisky　were　just　what　the　doctor　ordered。　She　laughed　sardonically　at　that。
　The　phone　rang　in　the　room　behind　her；　a　soft　burring　that　was　as　much　a　part　of　the　atmosphere　of　the　place　as　was　the　long　leather　couch　whose　surface；　could　only　be　warmed　by　contact　with　naked　flesh。
　Gelda　stared　out　of　the　window；　in　no　hurry　to　answer　the　phone；　it　would　continue　to　ring　until　she　picked　it　up；　if　she　were　not　at　home　or　did　not　want　to　be　disturbed；　the　machine　would　have　intercepted