'No, I guess not..."

"That stuff inside the handle. Is it possible to take that out and throw the rest of the knife away?"

'No. I can't explain how it works, but the set's powered by a layer of special crystals sealed into the blade."

'Okay. Stow it at the bottom of your mailbag until you can find a better place to hide it."

'Thanks,' said Steve. 'Any chance of getting my bladed staff back?"

He already knew what the answer would be, but what the h.e.l.l? It was worth a try.

The question triggered a snort of laughter. 'Are you crazy? That knife is enough to get you killed in under ten seconds flat What d'you want to do - hang a sign round your neck?"

'You're right. Okay, forget the staff. Just give me back the bundle of pink leaves. I can't start work at the Heron Pool until I've washed this gunk off."

'Don't have 'em on me, sport."

Steve cursed silently. 'So when am I going to get them?"

'When the time's right."

'I'm not going to be able to get into an airplane decked out as a Mute."

'I know that."

'Okay. How soon can I get a transfer?"

'I'm working on it."

This guy's stringing me along, thought Steve. 'Are you trying to tell me there's a problem?"

'Nothing serious. It's just that, because of the "interests" I represent, I can't be seen to intervene directly on your behalf. To do so would compromise your position as a "free agent" - and might even endanger the whole operation. I have to work, ahh...

obliquely, through my contacts on the Consul-General's staff and key officials in the main post-house. It's they who have to okay the move."

Terrific... 'Let's hope they don't lose the paperwork.

When will we meet again."?"

'When it's necessary."

'Yeah, but time's-' 'Don't worry. I know where to find you. Just stay cool, hang loose and keep trucking."

Steve heard the curved long-sword whisper its way back into the scabbard, followed by the soft clack of the layered plates of armour as the feet walked away.

Keep trucking... What a nitwit.

Steve watched out of the corner of his eye as the samurai remounted, turned his horse towards him and urged it into a canter. The top half of the j.a.p's face was shadowed by the wide-brimmed helmet; the lower half was obscured by a narrow white scarf held in place by the plaited red silk chinstrap. Steve kept his nose close to the ground until the hoofbeats faded, then got up and rubbed the cramp out of his knees.

It had been another instructive encounter, but Steve was in no mood to hang around while the Man in Black inflated his already overblown ego by scoring debating points. Time was running out. Side-Winder's wheelboat would not be on the Hudson River run for ever and that trip to Bu-faro was a crucial part of the escape plan. If the Man in Black was unwilling or unable to move things along at a high rate of knots then he, Steven Roosevelt Brickman, would have to go it alone.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

When Clearwater woke to find Steve kneeling by her pillow, she was neither surprised nor alarmed. Her subconscious mind, which had already registered his presence, inserted his image into the last few seconds of her dream, causing illusion to merge seamlessly with reality. Despite the fears she had expressed at the ronin camp, her mind and body had yearned to be reunited with his - and now, at long last, he was here.

Steve had towelled himself dry before entering the lake-house to avoid leaving any tell-tale tracks, but his skin was still damp and cool to the touch. Clearwater ran her fingers slowly along his arms and shoulders, then cupped his face in her hands and drew his mouth down on hers.

The chemistry was still as potent as ever. The touch of her lips and the warmth of her embrace brought the memories of their one night together flooding back. The desire to possess her, body and soul, and the inexpressible feelings aroused by her nearness overwhelmed his senses, sweeping aside all thoughts of his own safety.

Clearwater too seemed oblivious of the mortal danger he had placed her in. Removing one hand from his neck, she lifted the edge of the silken coverlet and silently invited him to join her beneath it.

Steve was sorely tempted, but managed to cling on to a vestige of self-control. He hadn't swum across the lake just to fall into her arms. Taking hold of her hand, he gently pulled the coverlet back into place to form a safety barrier, separating his naked body from hers.

He knew as surely as the First Family were born to rule that once they touched thighs, skin to skin, he'd forget everything, including his name, rank and number. 'we have to talk."

'Later . . ."

'No, now!" Steve grabbed both her hands to stop them from spoiling his concentration. 'Don't do that!" he hissed.

Clearwater lay back and contented herself with tracing the contours of his face and occasionally stroking his hair.

The last hands to slide below his waist had belonged to Roz, back in Santanna Deep, the previous year. They'd both crashed out through smoking some bad gra.s.s, so he wasn't sure how far things had gone, but he still felt bad about it. Roz had known about Clearwater before he'd got around to telling her, and he had an uneasy feeling that part of her mind was inside his own head right now. Forgive me, little sister.

This is how it has to be... Steve gave Clearwater a quick rundown on everything that had happened since their midnight meeting at the post-house in front of the mysterious Man in Black, ending on the sake-swilling session with Cadillac.

Except it was not quite everything. He made no mention of his chance meetings with Side-Winder on the dockside at Ari-bani and Jodi Kazan in the cropfield opposite the Heron Pool, and he also kept back his latest head-down encounter with the Shogun's contact-man.

That would come later.

'Listen, what are we going to do about Cadillac? I ried to reason with him, but he seems determined to stay here. He says he's got everything he ever wanted.

Well... everything except you."

'Did he tell you that?"

'He didn't need to. Why else would he be hitting the knockout drops?

He's sinking the stuff like there's no tomorrow."

'Did he ask what had happened to me?"

Steve hesitated. 'He knows where you're being held and who by but, uhh . . .".

'Did he say anything else?"

Steve chose his words carefully, 'Not very much. He, uhh . . . seems to think you can take care of yourself.