Deborah emerged from the bedroom wearing a robe that would've been sheer in better light.

I dropped to the floor like I'd had my hamstrings severed.

"I tried to warn him," I told the phone. But my voice was so small that Moy probably couldn't hear it.

"The way I see it, Axbrewder," he informed me with a touch of his familiar disinterest, "there's a whole shitload of stuff going on here that you haven't told me about."

Hong. Hong.

Christ!

I'd tried to warn him, but on some level I'd known that wasn't good enough. I should've protected him myself. But I hadn't trusted my instincts.

"Brew?" Deborah asked.

"Brew? My God, what's going on?" She sounded stricken.

I trusted them now. Now that it was too late. I'd have Hong's blood on my hands for the rest of my life.

I swallowed at a knot of grief or fury. As clearly as I could, I announced to Moy, "I'm on my way. I'll get there as fast as I can." As fast as the storm allowed. Then I hung up.

Deborah dropped to her knees beside me.

"My God, Brew." She put her hands on the sides of my face, forced me to look at her.

"What's wrong? What's happened?"

The cannonade in my head needed to break out somehow, positively required an outlet, but I could hardly form words, nothing that I could ever say would carry enough force to release what I felt. I had to whisper. Otherwise I wouldn't have been able to speak at all. Not without screaming in her face.

"Sifu Hong has been murdered."

As soon as I said the words, I knew who did it. Lightning etched the truth out of the tumbled chaos in my head.

And I was responsible. Absolutely. Hong would still be alive if I hadn't talked him into appraising the chops.

It hurt so bad that I almost wailed aloud.

She retreated with a gasp.

"Oh, Brew." Horror and tears filled her eyes.

"Sifu Hong?" Her mouth trembled.

"That's terrible."

She didn't ask, How did it happen? She asked, "What're you going to do?"

If I hadn't wasted so much energy doubting her, I might've been able to do something in time.

If I'd trusted myself

Thunder goaded me to my feet. Every blast and flail of the storm brought more into my head, pieces of the picture like shattered bones and streaming veins. I almost had it all, I was close I still didn't know why. Not exactly.

But I knew exactly what I was going to do about it.

Deborah rose beside me. She wanted an answer. Maybe she needed it.

But I wasn't ready. I had to know

As fast as I could with sheets of rain confusing my fingers, I dialed the number for Essential Shotokan.

What time was it? 2:00 in the morning? That felt about right. I didn't have my watch on.

The number rang until I thought it would break my heart. Then Hideo Komatori answered warily, "Yes?" I heard vestiges of sleep in his voice.

"Hideo, it's Brew." I couldn't muffle my fury. It must've sounded like an attack.

"Check on the chops."

He recoiled.

"Brew-san? What do you mean? The chops are safe. We moved the case into my apartment this evening, as you advised. I passed it as I came to the phone."

No! I wanted to scream, the chops aren't fucking safel Somehow I stifled the storm.

"Take another look," I insisted.

"Please."

A pause.

"Very well." The connection conveyed a dull thunk as he put down the handset.

Deborah tried to get my attention.

"The chops, Brew? I thought you said Hong Has something happened to them?"

I ignored her. With everything I had, I clung to the phone.

"Brew-san?" Komatori's tone had changed utterly. Now he sounded like he was fighting for his life.

"They're gone."

Of course.

"The case is intact," he went on.

"But it's been opened. All the chops are gone."

Of fucking course.