By now it was obvious that some of these martial artists had skills I shouldn't underestimate.

I wanted someone to talk to. But I'd learned as much about karate-related subjects as I could stand for the time being. I

needed other kinds of information. Maybe I'd do better if I approached Hong Fei-Tung.

But while I contemplated leaving the dais, I slipped unconsciously into watching one of the kata events without actually seeing it. Sort of a Zen thing. Concentration without attention. Or intention. And I discovered a curious thing. If I didn't look for Sternway consciously, I could tell where he was. By an unexpected piece of perceptual conjuring, like narrowing and diffusing my attention simultaneously, I was able to follow his movements peripherally when I couldn't track them directly.

I'd spent the better part of the past twenty-four hours trying to tune my instincts to the pitch and rhythms of the tournament, but I'd gone about it the wrong way. I wasn't used to working in this kind of crowd. With nothing clearly in view except a performance I didn't see, I knew that Sternway was over there, and Hong was on this side of his clustered students. At the main doors, Master Soon stepped out of the hall for some reason, while Ned Gage made his way toward the head table. And Trouble.

diagonally across from Hong a slim young woman in a nondescript warmup suit dipped one hand into a gear bag that wasn't hers, then straightened up and moved away casually, her hand closed at her side.

My heart forgot a couple of beats. Trying not to be obvious about it, I jerked into focus on her.

Not really a young woman a girl in her teens. Stringy hair, bland features that deflected notice, dull eyes. Nothing furtive about her, no flush in her cheeks, no rapid glances, no instinctive twitch as she fought an impulse to look behind her.

But now both of her hands were open and empty.

Nine.

I should've whipped out my cell phone right then, called Max, warned Bernie. But I'd been concentrating on her too hard I hadn't tagged the drop. And she'd already gotten rid of the evidence.

Fortunately I had time. She wasn't done. Her route took her deeper into the crowd instead of back toward the doors.

When a pick and a drop meshed that smoothly, they knew what they were doing. They had experience. And experienced teams typically included three or four picks, all feeding the same drop. Plus a spot, a guy who looked like an innocent bystander to watch for problems, signal warnings, and run interference.

I wanted to do this right, snag the whole team. Pouncing on the girl would accomplish exactly nothing. At the very least, I needed the drop But while I spent a couple of minutes failing to identify him, I had time to remember that I wasn't the boss here. This was Bernie's call, not mine.

Trying to look like a dignitary on important business, I took out the phone and dialed Security's preset number.

I wasn't good at the kind of concentration I needed. As soon as I focused on the phone, I lost the girl. While I waited for the connection to go through, I tried to locate her again. For a ragged moment or two, I couldn't find her. Then I did.

The heavy voice that answered said, "Go ahead," like I was supposed to know who he was.

I didn't stand on ceremony.

"Axbrewder," I told the phone.

"I need to talk to Bernie."

The voice Max didn't answer. Instead I heard switches clicking. As soon as the line opened, I said my name again.

"What?" Bernie demanded softly.

The girl had paused like a spectator watching an event. Obviously her droo hadn't circulated back into range yet.

I kept my voice low so that I wouldn't be overheard.

"There's a team in the hall. A drop, at least one pick."

I saw Bernie's head jerk.

"Where?"

"Teenage girl. Stringy hair. Dull brown warmup suit. To your right."

He shifted in that direction. Before he did anything rash, I added, "She's the pick. I haven't made the drop."

He didn't hesitate.

"Then we wait."

I nodded to the phone.

"If you want to do this right."

"I want the whole team." He was sure.

"Especially the drop. I'll take my chances."

I pictured the possibilities. A good team might have three, four, even five picks roughly spaced around the hall, all working in the same direction. The drop would stroll the opposite way, taking wallets, watches, money, whatever from the picks as they passed. And the spot Hell, he could be anywhere. The bleachers, probably.

"I'll watch her," I murmured to Bernie. She was my only clue to the drop unless I managed to identify another pick.

"If I still don't have the drop when she reaches me, I'll tag along." I thought hard for a second, then asked, "You want this line kept open?"

"No. If we do this right, there's no hurry.

"We've got the doors." He meant his guards.

"You get the drop. And anybody else you're sure about."

"Right." I hung up with my thumb and pocketed the phone.

She was on the move again. Casually, like she lived in karate tournaments, she wandered past Bernie toward Nakahatchi's display. Then she turned to cross the hall in front of the dais.

Scrambling inside, I considered my options. If I tailed her too closely, I'd make myself conspicuous to the drop. And I wouldn't be able to tag any other picks until I knew the drop. But if I stayed back, I might miss him.

I did not want to screw this up.

Concentration, that was the key. The right kind of concentration the kind I'd used to keep track of Sternway.

I wasn't sure I could do it. I was too tense.

I needed distraction, some way to diffuse my attention, like watching an event without really seeing it.

That gave me an idea.

The girl drifted past me, so close that I could've grabbed her by the hair if I hadn't been faking dignity. She had a gift for looking aimless, vacant, like there wasn't a thought in her head. She'd done this before, too often to be scared by it. Or she knew more than I did about drugs.

I let her go until she began to sift her way among the competitors, spectators, and gear bags that cluttered the edges of the tournament space. Then I retreated to the back of the dais, dropped to the floor, and went after her.