"I think-I hope to G.o.d-that she is alive, son. Your father was on a piece of work for us. In the midst of it, he stumbled upon something very special. So special, in fact, that it was impossible for him to make regular reports. He was that far undercover. His enemies tried once to get to him through Audrey. I found that out only after I had read the letter your father sent."

"You mean that the supposed break-in wasn't anything of the sort. It was an attempt to get at my father through Audrey!"

Jonas nodded. "Of course we did not tell Audrey or your mother the real reason for the aborted break-in. That Philip's enemies planned to abduct your sister.

I wanted to put her into protective custody, but by the time I found out about the attempted kidnapping, your father was already dead."

"And now they have succeeded," Michael said. "But my father is dead. And yet they went after Audrey anyway? What earthly good could she be to them now? It doesn't make any sense."

"It's another piece of the puzzle to which I don't have an answer," Jonas admitted. "It's another urgent reason that I need you, Michael. You can find out what's happened to Audrey, as well as discover who killed your father."

"Who are my father's enemies, Uncle Sammy?'

"Yakuza."

"Yakuza!" Michael exclaimed. "j.a.panese gangsters. Then you do know what my father was up to. It should be easy to-"

"The fact is, your father kept me entirely in the dark on this matter. I have no explanation as to why. I just hope to Christ there was a compelling reason."

"I want Audrey back," Michael said. He was dimly aware that he was gripping the leather armrests of the chair with clawed fingers.

"As do I," Uncle Sammy said. "I want her home safe and sound with all my heart. Follow your father's footsteps. It's our only chance of finding her."

Michael felt emotionally drained. His muscles were giving little twitches, as if he had just finished a marathon run. He exhaled, aware that he had been holding his breath. "I think," he said, "that I had better open this letter now."

The call could not have come at a more inconvenient moment. Joji Taki had just lifted the white kimono with the salmon chrysanthemums embroidered on it and was peeking between coyly parted thighs.

Joji Taki had waited all evening for this glimpse. Through an elaborate tea ceremony, a smoke-filled dinner, endless talk about the rise and fall of the yen and, finally, seemingly interminable farewells.

Through it all, Kiko had been an exemplary hostess. She had performed the tea ceremony with uncommon grace. She had skillfully kept Kai Chosa entertained all dinner long, then had engaged Kai's wife in girl talk while the men spoke of business.

And in the end, it had been Kiko, seeing her master making no progress, who had given the tiniest, most demure yawn behind the back of her hand. Kai Chosa's wife had taken the cue, touched her husband's sleeve and the couplehad departed.

The evening had been a disaster, Joji thought disconsolately. He had approached Kai Chosa, the oyabun of the Chosa-gumi, the second largest Yakuza clan, in the hopes of enlisting his aid in an attempt to regain control of the Taki-gumi from Joji's brother Masashi.

Kai Chosa had all but ignored Joji's offer of an alliance. Perhaps, like the Taki-gumi lieutenants, he did not believe that Joji possessed the strength of determination to dislodge Masashi. And he seemed peculiarly reluctant to enter into any negotiations that would bring his clan into a confrontation with the Taki-gumi.

This Joji found both puzzling and dispiriting. He had been so sure that Kai Chosa would jump at the chance to take a bite out of the Taki-gumi. What was it about his brother Masashi, he wondered? Had he underestimated Masashi's power? If so, what was he missing?

Joji found his mind spinning around. What I need, he told himself, is a G.o.dfather. A man with enough power, a man who is not afraid of Masashi.

All through dinner, Kiko had stolen infinitesimal glances at Joji. Her gaze had caressed him, urging him to caress her in the same manner. But even when he took in the curvaceous line of her shoulder and breast beneath the silken folds of her kimono, the tiny sliver of fire-red at the nape of her neck where she allowed her underkimono to peek s.e.xily out, it had had no effect. Kai Chosa had filled Joji's mind.

But now that he and Kiko were alone, Joji found himself in need of distraction from his woes. In fact, Kiko was just beginning to get his attention when there was a discreet knock on the sliding door. At just that instant, his eyes were locked with Kiko's. The intimation of delights to come seemed infinite.

Joji saw something in Kiko's eyes and dropped his gaze to where his hand lay on the inside of her leg. She had parted her thighs even more, so that the fire-red underkimono had fallen away. He saw with a leap of his heart that she wore no other garment. Her intimate flesh, dark hair rising up the center of her mound, wisping like a beckoning finger where it ended on her lower belly.

"Ah Buddha," Joji murmured.

The discreet knocking came again.

"Leave me alone!" Joji called thickly. "Have you no manners at all!"

Kiko was subtly lifting her b.u.t.tocks off the tatami. As she did so, she tilted her pelvis forward and upward. The heart-stopping result was to expose the underside of her mons. In this hairless area he could see every fold and pucker of her most intimate flesh. Her hips, off the tatami, began a sensuous circling. On the third pa.s.s, the petals of her lips opened of their own accord.

Joji thought he was going to faint.

The sliding door opened a sliver and he could see the shaven head of Shozo.

His face was carefully averted.

"I will take out your eye for this," Joji said angrily. His avid gaze was back locked on the vision at the juncture of Kiko's thighs.

"Oyabun," Shozo whispered, "you would take out my eye if I failed to tell you at once."

"Tell me what?" Kiko had begun further movements of her pelvis that did unbelievable things to that which Joji desired above all else now.

"There is a visitor."

"At this late hour?" Joji felt the heaviness in his belly. "Most inconsiderate."

"Oyabun," Shozo whispered, "it is Ude."

Despite what Kiko was doing, Joji felt his manhood deflating. A cold chill swept through him. Ude, the man who performed executions for his brother Masashi. What could Ude want? Joji asked himself. With a chill of dread, he wondered whether Masashi somehow knew about the subject of Joji's discussion with Michiko this morning.

"You did well to inform me, Shozo," he said, trying vainly to keep himself calm. "Tell Ude-san that I will be just a moment."The door slid shut. It had a center panel taken from an obi. Woven into the silk was a scene of hunters killing a wild boar. Joji stared at it now as he began to ready his mind.

Kiko was too well trained to open her mouth at a time such as this. Instead, she occupied herself with rearranging her clothes until she appeared just as she had throughout dinner.

Without a word, Joji opened the door, went through. In the next room, he saw Ude's huge bulk in the center of the tatami. Joji forced himself to smile.

"Good evening, Ude-san," he said, his heart fluttering. "Shozo," he called, "have you offered our honored guest tea?"

Ude brushed away the invitation. "Pardon this intrusion," he said in his rumbling voice, "but I am in something of a hurry. I have a plane to catch."

Joji took a deep breath, let it out all the way. He came across the tatami, sat facing the huge man. "Ude-san," he said, "this is an honor I had not antic.i.p.ated."

"I find myself in the peculiar position of having to get right to the point."

Ude's voice was as hard as granite. It made it seem as if he was not sorry at all to be impolite. "One must be mutable to events as they occur."

"Hai." Joji waited, breathless.

"I did not choose this hour to speak with you," Ude said. "So we must both make do with haste."

"This is not the way my father would do business," Joji said.

"Ah, your father," Ude said. "The most honorable of men. His death is still mourned. He will be forever venerated in my household."

"Thank you," Joji said.

"But your father is gone, Joji-san. Times change."

Joji put a hand to his forehead. It came away slick with sweat. What did Ude want? Joji could not help but be aware of the enormous power of the other man.

"As to business," Ude continued. "Your brother is, well, uncomfortable with the strain in his relationship with you. He knows how this would have hurt your father. It has occurred to Masashi-san that you would be better off discussing whatever lies between you."

Joji was stunned. "Pardon me for saying so, Ude-san, but I know my brother. I do not think that Masashi would have any interest in talking matters out. He and I feel that the future of the Taki-gumi lies in different directions."

"On the contrary, Joji-san, Masashi has only the best interests of the Taki-gumi in mind. As well as the wishes of your esteemed father, Wataro Taki."

Joji was elated. If Masashi was willing to give back a portion of the Taki-gumi to Joji, Joji was all for it. On the other hand . . . Joji did not want to think about what lay on the other hand.

He nodded. "All right."

Ude smiled. "Good. Shall we say tomorrow night?"

"Work while all others sleep," Joji said.

"Precisely. To Masashi's mind, the sooner this is settled between you, the better."

"A public s.p.a.ce."

"Yes," Ude said. "That was Masashi-san's thought as well. Well, at that hour, your options are limited. Would someplace in the Kabuki-cho be suitable?" The Kabuki-cho was in Shin-juku but on the wilder side of the area of Tokyo, where the densest construction had gone on for the past ten years. Originally, a new kabuki theater was scheduled to be erected there, hence the name. It stuck, even when those plans were abandoned. Now it was packed with cheap restaurants, pa-c.h.i.n.ko parlors, X-rated movie theaters, nightclubs and brothels. "There are any number of no-pan kissas to choose from." These were night spots where the waitresses wore no underwear.

"How about A Bas?" Joji said.

"I know it," Ude acknowledged. "It's as good as any."

After Shozo showed him the way out, Ude climbed into his waiting taxi. He smiled into the darkness. All had gone just as Kozo Shiina had predicted.Settling back in the seat, as the cab lurched ahead into traffic, Ude imagined Shiina on the phone, talking with Masashi.

"How will you get Masashi to the meeting?" Ude had asked Kozo Shiina, his new master. "He despises Joji as a weakling. Masashi hardly considers Joji a brother."

And Kozo Shiina had replied. "I will suggest to Masashi that it is important for the Taki-gumi's image for it to present a united front. The politicians and bureaucrats with whom we deal have never gotten over their innate nervousness when it comes to the Yakuza. To see the two remaining brothers of the Taki-gumi feuding will only unnerve them, I will say. Just yesterday, Minister Hakera asked me if any trouble could be expected from the Yakuza quarter now that the Taki brothers have quarreled. Of course not, I a.s.sured him, I will tell Masashi. Everything is under control. But you see, I will tell Masashi, as long as you and your brother are apart, there is the potential for trouble. At least in the eyes of those who aid us."

"But a meeting between Masashi and Joji cannot help but end badly," Ude pointed out "They have never agreed on anything. You can hardly expect them to do so now."

Kozo Shiina had smiled that odd, reptilian smile that made even Ude uncomfortable. "Don't worry, Ude. You just do your job. In the end, Masashi Taki will do his."

"It's not a will at all," Michael said.

Jonas held out his hand. "Let me see that, son."

Michael handed over the contents of the envelope from his father. There was one sheet of airmail paper on which were written six lines. There was no greeting, no signature.

Jonas read what was on the sheet. He looked at Michael. "What the h.e.l.l is this? A riddle?" He had been expecting, at the very least, a clue to what Philip had uncovered in j.a.pan.

"Not a riddle," Michael said. "It's a death poem."

Jonas blinked. "A death poem? You mean like the crazy kamikaze pilots used to write just before they went on a mission?"

Michael nodded.

Jonas grunted, handed back the sheet. "You're the j.a.panese expert. What does shintai mean?"

" 'In falling snow/Egrets call to their mates/Like splendid symbols/of shintai on earth.' " Michael quoted his father's death poem. "In a Shinto shrine," he said, "a shintai is a symbol of the divine body of the particular spirit the priests believe inhabit the sanctuary."

"I didn't know that your father was a Shintoist," Jonas said.

"He wasn't," Michael said. "But my j.a.panese master, Tsuyo, was. Once I remember my father visiting me in j.a.pan. Tsuyo and I were at the Shinto shrine where Tsuyo made his second home. My father was in awe of the place. He said that he could feel the place breathing, just as if the entire structure were a living creature. The priests were very impressed with that when Tsuyo translated it for them."

Jonas waved his hand impatiently. "Then what's it all mean, Michael? The poem, I mean."

Michael got up, walked across the office to peer out the window. He could see the compound, the beautifully manicured lawns, the carefully tended gardens.

And beyond, a twelve-foot-high wall rose, filled with the most sophisticated electronic sensors and deterrents to break-ins of any kind. As he watched, one member of the three squads of specially trained German shepherds bounded into view, roaming a three-foot-wide perimeter just inside the wall.

"Obviously, the poem is supposed to mean something to me," Michael said. "But I don't know what it could be."

"Does snow have any significance for you?" Jonas asked. "Or egrets?"

"Not really."

"What could they be symbols of?"

Michael shrugged."Oh come on, son," Jonas said. "Think!"

Michael returned to his chair. "All right." He raked his hair with his fingers. "Let's see, snow could be purity of purpose-or death. White is the color of mourning in j.a.pan."

"What else?" Jonas was busily writing this down.

"Egrets. Symbols of eternal love, of singular beauty."

Jonas stared at Michael, pen poised, waiting. "And that's it?" he asked eventually. "Purity, death, love and beauty?"

"Yes."

"Oh Jesus!" Jonas threw down his pen. "Your father loved his secrets. But I'll tell you, I've got no time for riddles. You were right on target. n.o.buo Yamamoto took his negotiating party back to j.a.pan. The bunch you saw at the Ellipse Club were stunned.

"At midnight, I got word that the j.a.panese prime minister announced that twelve percent of his country's new budget is being allocated for defense.

That's unheard of. Ever since the end of the war, defense spending in j.a.pan has never gone beyond three quarters of one percent. Do you understand the dire significance of such a change?"

Michael looked at him. "Why dire? It seems to me that the more j.a.pan spends on her own defense, the more self-sufficient she'll be."

"We won't have the kind of power over them we have now," Jonas said. "We're their knight in shining armor. We have been ever since the end of the war. And that monetary commitment to them has kept them as our outpost in the Far East.

h.e.l.l, in some places, j.a.pan's less than a hundred miles from the Soviet Union."