She didn't add, In case something happens to the chops this week. She didn't need to. Instead she said, "Don't worry about Mr. Swilley.

I'll smooth his feathers before we arrive."

"Deborah Messenger, you're a sweetheart." The danger that Swilley might take offense hadn't occurred to me.

"On top of being the sexiest lady I've met in many a long year."

In a throaty whisper, she told me, "Check the restrooms." Then she hung up before I had a chance to make a fool of myself by dropping the phone.

Damn. The van's AC couldn't push out enough cold air to keep me from sweating. What was I getting myself into? Last night I'd liked the idea of consulting Hong. Now without warning it scared the crap out of me.

Deborah's attitude, her incomprehensible eagerness, no longer worried me. I couldn't think about it. Somewhere in the back of my head, a small voice whimpered wordlessly, like an illiterate mute trying to warn against imminent violence.

I did not trust my instincts. Not this time. Not without some kind of evidence to back them up. The back of my head had leaped out over an abyss, and I couldn't see the other side.

Until I understood what my nerves wanted to tell me, I couldn't do anything except fall and pray that I latched onto something solid enough to stop me before I smeared my body all over the rocks at the bottom.

Trembling, I forced myself to check the street signs, confirm that I wasn't lost. Take it a step at a time. What else could I do? When my forehead finally stopped dripping, I dug out the listings I'd acquired from directory assistance. Take it Carefully I dialed the number for Essential Shotokan.

It rang until I was about to give up. Then a male voice answered, "Essential Shotokan. I am Hideo Komatori."

"Mr. Komatori." I couldn't account for all this good luck with phone calls.

"It's Brew. Good morning."

"Brew-san. Please excuse my delay. I was meditating." Underneath his usual reserve, Komatori sounded pleasantly considerate.

"It is indeed a good morning.

"How may I be of service?"

"I was hoping " Abruptly I stomped on the brake to avoid a Corvette convertible veering recklessly into my lane. In his muscle shirt and shorts, the driver had the cut look of a professional poster boy. His hair kept him too busy to bother steering.

Somehow I avoided swearing into the phone.

"Sorry," I told Komatori.

"Bad driver." The guy had enough hair to get tangled in it when he moved his hands.

"I was hoping I could speak to Nakahatchi sensei."

"I'm sorry, Brew-san," Komatori answered.

"My master doesn't use telephones. I'm sure he'll speak with you in person, if you wish. Or could I speak with him on your behalf?"

I almost climbed the back of the 'vette before I realized what I was doing.

"He doesn't use telephones?"

Komatori laughed politely.

"I'm afraid not. He distrusts the modern world in many of its forms.

In particular, he believes that telephones allow men to avoid responsibility for their words and actions. He may be right. I've often thought that we all lie more easily over the phone than in person. Don't you agree?"

Deliberately I receded from the poster boy.

"But he lets you give him messages?"

"He doesn't hold me accountable for their content."

"Well," I said after a moment, "I'll take your advice on this one. I think you've already had a call from Deborah Messenger? Watchdog Insurance?"

"Indeed," Hideo replied promptly.

"She mentioned a Mr. Carliss Swilley, who has been retained to authenticate the chops. My master knows nothing of this Mr. Swilley, but of course he has no objection. For various reasons, he's deeply concerned to determine whether or not the chops are genuine. He's been troubled on this point, and he welcomes anyone who might resolve the matter."

I nodded at the phone, then remembered that Komatori couldn't see me.

"I'm glad to hear it." Then I plunged on, still falling.

"Do you think he'd object to letting Sifu Hong inspect the chops?

Should I ask him in person?"

Again Komatori gave a reserved laugh.

"Ordinarily I shouldn't speak for my master. It isn't considered proper. But in this case, I know his thoughts. He would be honored by a visit from Sifu Hong, for that purpose or any other. I'm not betraying a confidence, Brew-sem, when I say that he would have invited Sifu Hong himself, but to do so seemed indelicate."

"Indelicate'?" Feeling confused, I checked my map again. I was definitely getting lost somewhere.

"Sifu Hong has made his anger evident. Naturally it must be respected.

To invite him here might be seen as an attempt to placate him. That would be an affront."

"I still don't " "Ah, but if the invitation comes from you, Brew-san,"

Komatori pronounced, "the problem evaporates. It grants Sifu Hong face, it allows this dojo to show respect for an esteemed master, and it preserves Nakahatchi sensei's stature, so that he may offer Sifu Hong courtesy rather than placation."

Mentally I threw up my hands. It was clear that "good manners" to men like Komatori and T'ang, Nakahatchi and Hong, meant something entirely different than they did to Marshal something deeper, more definitive. I couldn't claim that I understood it.

"Maybe," I said reluctantly.

"Maybe not. Sifu Hong has at least one grievance that won't go away just because the invitation comes from me."

Hideo waited while I dredged up what T'ang told me yesterday.

"There's no graceful way to say this," I went on.

"I guess it has to do with face. Apparently Sifu Hong believes that Nakahatchi sensei upstaged him. Traditional Wing Chun signed the first lease with Martial America, but Essential Shotokan moved in first. Sifu Hong seems to think your sensei did that deliberately. To eclipse him in some way."

Feeling too awkward to frame a direct question, I shut up.