"I can't help it. I'm a developer, Mr. Axbrewder, and I live in Garner. That means I like to build things, and I'm interested in sports.

"Unfortunately most of the other sports are already taken.

There isn't much room for me." He beamed so that I wouldn't think he was complaining.

"But karate is still on the rise. In fact, it hasn't even begun to tap its potential markets." He swept the hall with an expansive gesture.

"I want in on the ground floor."

He wasn't likely to stop there, but I encouraged him anyway.

"That's quite an ambition. What does it mean in practical terms?"

Sternway regarded me with a hint of distaste, but he didn't interfere.

The developer never turned off his grin. However, it had enough channels to hold my interest. This time he tuned it to an aw-shucks station.

"It's simple, really. I'm building a martial arts complex, Mr.

Axbrewder. I call it "Martial America," and it's already pretty impressive, if I do say so myself."

Sternway offered a nod that could've meant anything.

"I'm leasing the finest dojo facilities in the country," Lacone went on, "to any school that wants to locate with me. In fact, I already have four fine schools, including Essential Shotokan you've met Nakahatchi sensei, haven't you? and Master Song Duk Soon's Tae Kwon Do Academy. Two more will move in at the end of the month, one of which is an authorized Gracie Brothers Jujitsu franchise." Apparently that was supposed to impress me.

"I'm hoping I can persuade Sternway sensei to join me. I'll give Anson Sternway Shorin-Ryu Bushido and the IAMA the best space and the best deal in North America.

"But I'm aiming higher." Now his grin transmitted an inspirational glow, gospel music filtered by easy listening.

"I'm a dreamer, Mr. Axbrewder, and I like to dream big. If I weren't a damn good developer as well" he chuckled again "I'd have put myself out of business years ago.

"My master plan for Martial America includes as many as twenty schools of all kinds, a tournament facility twice this size, and a hall-of-fame-style museum, a complete education center, repository, and promotional outfit for any martial art in the world. The perfect home," he pointed out in case I missed it, "for Nakahatchi sensei's Wing Chun antiques, for example. Including stores, of course, where you can buy anything and everything that has to do with the martial arts."

Sternway hid his reaction. He hid all his reactions. But he didn't look to me like he believed in Lacone's "dream."

"Sounds expensive," I remarked. The martial arts were supposed to be good for people.

"Who's paying for it?"

Lacone turned up the volume on his grin.

"It'll pay for itself. In fact, it'll make us all rich.

"But still," he admitted with less enthusiasm, "it takes money to make money. You know that. Down the road, I'll need to bring in some pretty heavy players.

"For now, I'm concentrating on my core schools. If enough famous martial artists locate with me" he glanced at Sternway "Martial America will promote itself. They'll attract attention, we'll get more and more ink, advertisers will become interested, and the whole thing will snowball."

I didn't think he'd ever seen a snowball. Not in Garner, that's for sure. But he finished confidently anyway.

"Then we'll be off and running."

I nodded noncommittally, feeling a bit baffled. I couldn't imagine why Marshal thought Lacone might be good for a job.

Apparently the subject bored Sternway. Shooting his cuff, he checked his watch like he wanted an excuse to be somewhere else. Then he surprised me by suggesting to Lacone, "Tell you what. Why don't the two of you join me for lunch? We can get to know Mr. Axbrewder a little better."

While I raised my eyebrows, the developer beamed in Stern-way's direction.

"Sorry, Anson. No can do. Sammy Posten is bringing one of Watchdog's underwriters out here to discuss Martial America's coverage. We're supposed to belly up to the trough in about twenty minutes."

He still hadn't mentioned anything that suggested a job. Which was natural, I told myself. He knew next to nothing about me.

Sternway shrugged, then looked a question at me.

I wanted a chance to make him squirm a bit. And I could think of plenty of questions for him.

"I'll need to check it with Bernie," I answered promptly.

He didn't betray a reaction.

"We can do that on our way out."

We both shook hands with Lacone again, and I followed Stern-way off the dais.

If nothing else, having lunch with the IAMA director would help confirm my status as a dignitary.

We found Bernie where I'd left him, but Sternway didn't give me time to ask his permission. The director simply announced that he was taking me to the coffee shop. When Bernie acquiesced with a dyspeptic nod, Sternway drew me out of the hall.

I rolled my eyes for Bernie's benefit as I passed. Taking a swing or two at Anson Sternway was turning into one of my life's ambitions. He'd been "important" too long he'd gotten into the habit of presuming on his own authority. The prospect of asking him a few subversive questions added a dash of adrenaline to my bloodstream.

Unfortunately I had to wait my turn. As soon as we were seated in The Luxury's coffee shop a generic space complete with a single plastic flower, garish and cheerless, on every table and had ordered some food, he started on his own questions.

His approach unsettled me a bit. He didn't seem to care that I was stone ignorant about him, the IAMA, or the martial arts. While he pried into my qualifications, experience, and training, he paid no particular attention to the answers. In fact, he hardly looked at me.

Despite his air of impenetrable self-possession, his gaze slid away whenever I tried to make eye contact.

I might've thought that he was just killing time with me while he waited for someone more substantial to come along, but he didn't carry himself like a man who killed time. Instead he reminded me of a coyote circling a lost lamb pretending disinterest while he made sure the lamb wasn't just bait.

When he did pounce, however, I couldn't figure out why he'd been so cautious about it.

What he really wanted to understand, apparently, was my connection to Marshal Viviter. In view of Marshal's recommendation, why didn't I work for him directly? And if he wasn't inclined to hire me himself, why did he think I was good enough for tournament security?

That, I had to admit, was a fair question although I didn't know why it mattered. But I couldn't give it a fair answer, not without violating Marshal's confidential relationship with Stern-way's wife. So instead I told him that my qualifications had nothing to do with it. The problem was a practical one. A former partner of mine already had a job with Professional Investigations, and Marshal suspected that we'd cause trouble for each other. Otherwise he wouldn't have hesitated ha!

to hire me himself.

Sternway seemed to accept that. At any rate, he didn't push it. But I still didn't understand his concern.

When I'd flagged down the waitress for a fresh pot of coffee, I moved the plastic flower out of the middle of the table, giving myself a clear shot at him. Then I took my turn.

"You already know, Anson" he'd been calling me Brew, and I wanted to sound polite "I'm a complete stranger to this whole world. The martial arts. Schools. Tournaments. If you could explain a few things, it would help me do my job."

He granted me a glance.