"I didn't avoid fighting Hardshorn because I'm a coward! I did it because I wanted him alive. I wanted him to tell me who killed Bernie.

If he hadn't ambushed me, you'd already be in jail!"

Abruptly Sternway leaned out over the railing, sneered down at me.

"You're lying, Axbrewder. You couldn't take him with his head tied between his legs. You'll need a platoon to take me."

I beckoned.

"Come back down here. I'll show you."

He snorted a laugh.

"You come up. I'll let you show me."

What, climb all the way up there? With misfiring nerves in my wrist, and bruises riding my kidneys? Just so he could kill me?

What choice did I have? If just one more innocent karate-ka paid the price for my mistakes, I wouldn't need Sternway to tear out my heart.

I'd already mastered that surgical procedure for myself.

"Fine," I coughed up at him.

"Just don't rush me. I'm conserving my strength."

He grinned, a flash of eagerness. After a moment he moved away from the top of the ladder to the corner of the catwalk, where he could watch my progress without threatening me. A show of good faith. He meant to slaughter me in a fair fight.

Somewhere during the past few hours, he must've lost his mind.

Otherwise he would've paid more attention to his own survival.

I was counting on that.

First I knelt beside Parker, checked his pulse with my good hand. When I found it strong and steady in his neck, my heart gave a little leap of relief. He was still unconscious, but he wasn't dying. I could risk leaving him while I challenged Sternway.

I tugged off my jacket, dropped it over Parker to keep him warm. Then I raised my arms to the ladder and began to struggle upward.

Which would've been impossible if Sternway had stomped on my wrist instead of kicking it. But my right hand began working better as I climbed. On the down side, Parker's blows had left my legs as weak as a drunk's. Nakahatchi had thrown me around the room hardly fourteen hours ago. Just last night Hardshorn had pummeled me nearly unconscious.

Nevertheless this was the work I'd been born to do the work of pain and endurance, the unforgiving task of standing in harm's way. Today you believe you are ready because your pain has become greater than your anger, yet you are not defeated by it. That is important.

It is necessary.

If I didn't understand anything else, I understood that.

Instead of thinking about my hurts while I climbed, I concentrated on the clarity of unmarred rage anger as cold and ready as black ice, and as fatal. Sternway had killed two innocent people. Plus Turf Hardshorn. He'd used my efforts to ease the tensions in Martial America as an excuse to break Hong's neck and get Nakahatchi arrested.

It didn't matter how much I hurt. Or that I was scared almost witless.

Only stopping him mattered.

"What's the problem?" Sternway crowed over me.

"At this rate you'll take all night."

I remembered Nakahatchi's face, and Mitsuku's, and went on climbing.

Gradually I found more strength. My muscles worked out some of the congestion in my back. The fingers of my right hand tightened on the rungs. I began to make better progress.

I wanted to rest when I reached the second floor, but I kept going. I was no match for Anson Sternway, I understood that. Nevertheless I had one advantage he couldn't match.

I knew I'd lost my mind.

I knew why.

"Come on, Axbrewder." He still watched me from the corner of the catwalk.

"I hate waiting."

What's the matter? Getting nervous?

I didn't try to hurry.

Finally I reached the top. By then my lower back felt like a bucket of lead clamped to my hips. I hauled it after me up onto the catwalk.

Paused to gasp for air.

This close to the skylights, the downpour sounded louder. Lightning leered across the darkness. But I could still hear the ragged labor of my heart. It drummed like panic in my temples, pounding out an autonomic message of terror.

Sternway was going to kill me.

Fuck that.

He backed around the corner. With the fingers of one hand, he beckoned me forward. When I didn't obey, he cocked his fists on his hips.

"I hate to say this, Axbrewder, but you look pathetic. Don't you ever exercise? I train harder than you do in my sleep."

I thought I knew why he backed up, why he wanted me to follow. To get me away from the ladder. So that I couldn't escape The bastard didn't understand me at all. He had no clue.

Panting from the pit of my stomach, I started after him.

He retreated until he reached the middle of the catwalk, a step or two past the nearest fire door. I quickened my pace.

But he ignored the door. Apparently the exit didn't interest him.

I slowed down. Still outside his kicking range, I wobbled to a halt.

His eagerness had reached manic proportions. Light flashed off the whites of his eyes. He bounced gently on the balls of his feet, warming up to spurn gravity. His hands flexed like springs at the ends of his arms. Like fliks.

"Speaking of carelessness," I panted, "what makes you think you'll accomplish anything if you do beat me?" The effort hurt my throat.

"Have you forgotten that tape? Once they hear it, the cops will come after you. You won't stand a chance. Not against the kind of manhunt they'll organize."