"What foolishness is this? I need no man's protection."

I shook my head.

"You're mistaken." Ire leaked into my voice despite my efforts to control it.

"If anything happens to those chops, there will be only two primary suspects. Sifu Hong first. Then you." Soon tried to interrupt, but I overrode him.

"Him because he resents seeing the chops in Japanese hands. You because you resent seeing them in anyone's."

And because he'd left the tournament.

"You think they diminish you," I finished.

"You think they draw attention away from your school."

The small hairs on the back of my neck picked up hostility and discomfort from Soon's students. I felt exposed, vulnerable. The skin over my kidneys squirmed, but I kept my focus on Soon.

"They do so," he said between his teeth.

"They do so." He'd lost his explosive relaxation. Tension knotted his shoulders.

"We compete for students, Mr. Axbrewder. For students and respect.

Perhaps you do not understand that. In any equal comparison Tae Kwon Do will stand above its competitors. But here the comparison is unequal. The attraction of antique netsuke grants Essential Shotokan an advantage it has not earned.

"That is the true source of Hong Fei-Tung's dissatisfaction," he stated flatly.

"And it is the source of mine."

His students seemed to swarm like bees near my shoulder-blades. Behind the clenched surface of my professional facade, I wanted to pistol-whip them all. I was fucking tired of being treated like a personal insult.

But I didn't do it. Instead I countered, "And it's why you need my protection.

"You probably consider yourself a man of honor. But if that display disappears, the cops won't even listen when you tell them you're too honorable to sully your hands by stealing. They know something you might not want them to know. They know you left the tournament just a few minutes before I found The Luxury's Chief of Security dead in the men's room."

Actually I hadn't told Moy anything about that. But I had no intention of saying so. I wanted Soon nervous.

"Incidentally," I asked as if I were merely curious, "why did you leave the tournament?"

For a long moment, he didn't answer. His gaze held mine, and in his eyes I could see my death, gathering like thunderheads. I'd practically accused him of murdering Bernie. If he couldn't control his rampant ego or if he'd killed Bernie I might never know what hit me.

But then, slowly, the darkness receded from his stare, pushed aside by calculation. By degrees the tension in his shoulders eased. Facing me squarely, he asked, "Am I suspected ?"

"You will be," I put in, "if anything happens to those chops.

"That's why you need me." The visceral shame of backing down serrated my voice.

"I'm security here. If I do my job right, I'll be the best protection you can get."

Obviously he hadn't considered the situation in that light. When he spoke again, he'd made up his mind.

"You are Western, Mr. Axbrewder." It wasn't a compliment.

"I am not. Perhaps your understanding of these matters has merit.

"What do you require of me?"

Maybe I should've let him change the subject. Bernie's death wasn't my responsibility. Martial America was. But I positively could not retreat another step. I'd already backed up more than I could bear.

"For starters," I told him harshly, "answer the question. Why did you leave the tournament when you did?"

That brought a new flicker of butchery into his glare, but he didn't waver. When he made a decision, he stuck to it.

"One of my students was expected to compete, but he had not arrived. I wished to call him, and went to the telephone."

If I hadn't been working for Lacone, I might've yelled, And you expect me believe that? Why didn't you send one of your flunkies?

Unfortunately I couldn't go that far and justify it to myself afterward. Anger aside, I had no solid reason to accuse him of lying.

And anyway I was mostly furious at myself for backing down.

Like an act of self-mortification, I nodded to accept his answer. Then I went back to the job Lacone paid me for.

"Thank you, Master Soon. What I need right now is pretty simple. If you'll answer a couple of questions, I'll get out of your way."

He gestured for me to go ahead.

Gritting my teeth, I asked, "How do you provide for your own security?

I understand that you have some pretty valuable artifacts yourself.

What do you do to protect them?"

As if in response, Soon looked past my shoulder at Hamson and the brown belts.

"Return to your training," he instructed them.

"Do not concern yourselves with Mr. Axbrewder."

That was as close as he came to reprimanding them. Apparently it was all the satisfaction I'd get.

I didn't turn to watch his students go. I could feel them disperse.

And a moment later I heard the aerobics class start yelling again. Low voices came from the smaller dojo, but I couldn't make out what they said.

Grimly I slipped my hands into my pockets and dug my fingers into the tops of my thighs, clawing at my quads for restraint.

"Mr. Axbrewder," Soon announced, "you will not speak of what I tell you."

"Not unless I have to," I agreed.

"But if the cops question me for some reason, I'll talk. For my protection as well as yours."

After an instant's uncertainty, he accepted that.

"I am my own security," he explained.