ericlustbader.the ninja-第7章

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　tall　rustling　bamboo。　He　heard　a　cuckoo's　brief　call；　the　rush　of　the　morning's　traffic　into　the　city；　muffled；　funneled　and　yet　magnified　by　the　distance　and　the　peculiar　acoustics　of　the　topography。
　He　turned　his　head；　still　half　asleep；　saw　a　…female　form　asleep　beside　him。　Yukio。　She　had　e　back　after　all；　he　thought。　He　had　known　she　would。　But　now　to　actually　have　her　here　beside　him　…
　He　sat　up　abruptly；　his　heart　racing。　A　runic　chanting；　as　if　from　far　away　across　the　distance　of　a　sea；　abruptly　metamorphosed　into　the　drifting　crash　of　the　surf；　ing　clear　to　him　through　the　open　window；　the　cry　of　the　gulls。　Still　he　knew　the　meaning　of　that　arcane　chanting。。。
　He　took　several　deep　breaths。　Japan　clung　to　him　now　like　a　fine　gauzy　veil；　enmeshing　him。　What　had　recalled　it　to　him　so　intensely？
　He　looked　around；　saw　the　tip　of　Justine's　nose　and　her　soft　sensual　lips；　partly　opened　as　she　breathed；　the　only　parts　of　her　not　covered　by　the　sheet；　blue　and　white　and　grey；　rippling　like　the　sea。　She　slept　deeply　now　within　its　heavy　bosom。
　What　is　it　about　her；　he　wondered；　that　pulls　me　like　a　current？　Oddly；　he　felt　adrift　upon　the　tides。　Watching　her；　the　soft　rise　and　fall　of　her　warm　body；　he　knew　that　he　was　being　drawn　back　to　Japan；　into　the　past　where　he　dared　not　tread。。。
　An　unutterably　delicious　sensation　woke　him。　He　opened　his　eyes　to　find　her　thighs　close　to　his　face。　He　inhaled　her　musk；　realized　her　lips　were　around　him。　Her　tongue　licked　softly；　lasciviously；　and　he　groaned。　He　reached　out　to　touch　her　but　her　thighs　moved　away。　He　watched；　instead；　the　movement　of　her　mound；　tracing　with　his　eyes　the　highly　arched　configuration；　deeply　bisected　at　its　base；　the　soft　curling　hair　glistening　moistly　down　the　centre；　her　flesh　as　tumescent　as　his；　an　arrow　of　delight。
　The　pleasure　ribboned　out　before　him；　a　highway　endlessly　extended。　Each　time　he　was　on　the　verge　of　ing；　she　used　her　hands　on　him；　lifted　her　mouth　away；　encircling　the　base　until　the　anticipatory　spasms　subsided。　Then　she　would　resume　and　the　crescendo　would　begin　again；　over　and　over　until　his　legs　shook　and　his　heart　pounded　and　he　felt　as　if　he　were　burning　with　a　fever；　pleasure　pooling　and　radiating　at　the　same　time；　leaden　with　the　amount　of　it　running　through　his　pelvis　and　genitals。
　He　became　aware　of　her　breasts　swaying　against　his　belly　and　he　reached　down；　cupping　them；　rubbing　the　nipples　until；　involuntarily；　her　thighs　opened；　rushing　towards　him。
　Every　touch　was　now　so　exquisite　that　he　felt　muscles　jumping　all　over　his　body　at　each　contact。　She　did　something　to　the　head　of　his　penis　and　he　cried　out；　moving。　He　clutched　at　her　breasts　and　she　slid　up　so　that　his　shaft　squeezed　between　them。　He　buried　his　face　in　the　crevasse　between　her　thighs；　opening　his　mouth　as　far　as　he　could　as　he　shot　and　shot　and　shot。
　Vincent　Ito　arrived　at　the　Medical　Examiner's　office　on　First　Avenue　at　Thirtieth　Street　at　four　minutes　to　eight　in　the　morning。　As　he　pushed　through　the　plate…glass　door　at　the　top　of　the　short　flight　of　stairs；　he　nodded　to　the　uniformed　cop　on　duty　and　said　hello　to　snowy…haired　Tommy；　Nate　Graumann's　chauffeur。　As　he　entered　Room　134；　he　knew　he　had　just　enough　time　to　grab　a　cup　of　coffee　before　the　morning　meeting　began。
　He　turned　right　through　the　short　hall　and　into　the　Chief　Medical　Examiner's　large；　crowded　office。
　Nate　Graumann；　New　York　City's　Chief　Medical　Examiner；　was　a　mountain　of　a　man。　His　eyes　were　slitted；　black　and　glossy；　half　hidden　within　semicircular　folds　of　loose　skin；　somewhat　paler　than　the　colour　of　that　around　them。　His　broad　nose　had　been　broken　once；　perhaps　in　some　nighttime　street　fight　in　the　South　Bronx；　where　he　had　been　born　and　raised。
　His　hair　was　salt　and　pepper　but　his　moustache　was　jet　black。　He　looked；　in　short；　like　a　most　formidable　opponent　…　which　he　was；　as　the　mayor　and　several　members　of　the　city's　fiscal　control　board　could　easily　attest。
　'Morning；　Vincent；'　he　called。
　'Morning；　Nate。'　He　hurried　across　the　room　to　the　high　metal　dome　of　the　coffee　machine　standing　like　a　doge's　palace　amid　the　clutter。　Hold　the　sugar；　hold　the　half…and…half；　he　thought　gloomily。　I　need　my　caffeine　straight　this　morning。
　'Stay　a　minute；　Vincent；'　Graumann　said；　as　the　assignment　meeting　broke　up。
　Vincent　sat　in　a　green　chair　across　from　the　littered　desk　and　handed　over　the　cases　he　had　picked　out　when　Graumann　asked　to　see　them。
　They　were　friends；　away　from　their　labours　here；　but　those　times　had　seemed　to　shrink　over　the　years。　Graumann　had　been　deputy　M。E。　when　Vincent　had　first　arrived　here　and；　it　seemed；　there　had　been　more　time　then。　Or　perhaps　it　was　just　that　there　had　been　more　money。　Their　workloads　increased　as　the　fiscal　crunch　fell　like　the　side　of　a　mountain　upon　them。　The　city　had　much　larger　problems　than　worrying　about　the　people　who　were　daily　bludgeoned；　knifed；　strangled；　drowned；　asphyxiated；　shot；　mangled　and　blown　apart　on　the　city's　streets　or　in　the　bodies　of　water　throughout　its　environs。　Eighty　thousand　people　die　each　year　in　New　York　City　and　we　get　thirty　thousand　of　them；　he　thought。
　'What　d'you　have　on　at　the　moment？'　Graumann　said。
　'Uhm。　The　Morway　thing；'　Vincent　said；　his　brow　furrowing　in　thought；　'and　the　Holloway　knifing　…　I'm　due　in　court　on　that　any　moment。　The　Principal　case　is　about　closed　…　just　a　few　odds　and　ends　left　to　tie　up　for　the　D。A。　…　the　blood　analysis　should　be　in　this　afternoon。　And　then；　oh　yeah；　Marshall。'
　'What's　that？'
　'Came　in　late　yesterday　afternoon。　McCabe　said　it　couldn't　wait　so　I　began　working　on　it　right　away。　Drowning　in　the　reservoir。　McCabe　thinks　he　might　have　had　his　head　held　under。　They're　holding　someone　on　suspicion；　that's　why　she　needs　the　goods　right　away。〃
　Graumann　nodded。　'Full　load；　huh？'
　'More　than。'
　'I　want　you　to　go　〃out　to　the　Island　for　a　couple　of　days。'
　'What？　In　the　middle　of　all　this？'
　'If　it　weren't　important　I　wouldn't　be　asking；'　he　said　patiently；　'would　I？'
　'But　what　about　…？'
　'I'll　look　after　your　cases　in　progress　personally。　And　these'　…he　picked　up　the　two　manila　folders；　tapping　their　bottoms　on　the　desk　top　several　times　as　if　straightening　them　out　…　I'll　give　to　Michaelson。'
　'Michaelson　is　an　idiot；'　Vincent　retorted　hotly。
　Graumann　regarded　him　placidly。　'He　goes　by　the　book；　Vincent。　He's　steady　and　dependable。'
　'But　he's　so　slow；'　Vincent　moaned。
　'Speed　is　not　everything；'　Graumann　reminded　him。
　'Tell　that　to　McCabe。　She's　got　the　whole　office　on　our　case；　lately。　All　those　goddamn　assistant　D。A。s　wheedling　their　way　in　here　mucking　things　up。'
　'It's　what　they're　paid　to　do；　I'm　afraid。〃
　'So　what　am　I　doing　out　on　the　Island？〃
　'Paul　Deerforth　called　late　yesterday；'　Graumann　said。　'You　remember　him？'
　'Sure。　We　met　last　year　when　I　came　out　to　visit　you　for　a　couple　of　days。　West　Bay　Bridge；　right？'
　'Uhm；　hmm。'　Graumann　sat　forward。　'He's　apparently　got　a　problem　that's　over　his　head。　He　has　ancillary　ties　to　the　Suffolk　County　M。E。's　office。'　He　looked　down　at　his　steepled　nails；　back　up　to　Vincent's　face。　'He　asked　for　you　specifically。'
　There　was　a　great　fish　tank　along　the　left…hand　brick　wall　of　the　living　room　of　Nicholas's　house。　It　was；　he　estimated；　big　enough　to　hold　fifty　gallons　of　water。　But　its　denizens　were　no　ordinary　guppies　or　gouramis；　for　the　owners　had　left　to　him；　the　summer's　tenant；　the　care　of　a　multitude　of　salt…water　fish　whose　brilliant　colours　electrified　the　surrounding　water　just　as　if　they　were　a　flock　of　boldly　plumaged　birds　flitting　through　some　dense　tropical　world。
　He　watched　Justine's　form　through　this　aqueous　lens　like　a　primitive　peeping　through　the　foliage　at　an　intruding　mem…sahib。
　She　wore　a　red　bathing　suit　cut　high　along　the　thighs　to　resemble　a　dancer's　leotard　and　thus　accentuate　her　long　legs。　She　had　a　white　towel　around　her　neck　as　if　she　had　just　e　from　a　gym。　She　licked　at　a　running　egg　yolk　between　her　fingers　as　she　mopped　at　the　plate　with　a　last　bite　of　toast　in　her　other　hand。　Popping　this　into　her　mouth；　she　turned　to　look　at　him。
　'Those　aren't　yours；　are　they？'　she　asked。
　He　had　finished　feeding　them　but　unaccountably　remained　in　his　crouched　position；　fascinated　perhaps　by　the　distortions　of　the　soft　currents　created　by　the　fish　and　the　bubbling　aerator。　A　certain　air　of　unreality　was　forting　although　he　might　be　more　inclined　to　think　of　it　as　an　aspect　of　fantasy。
　'Not　mine；　no；'　he　said　from　behind　the　barrier　reef。　'They　are　the　house's　true　owners。'　He　laughed　and　straightened　up。　'More　so　than　I；　at　any　rate。'
　She　stood　up；　brought　the　plates　to　the　kitchen。　'Christ；　it's　raining。'　She　leaned　on　the　sink　with　her　elbows；　stared　out　of　the　window。　'I　wanted　to　work　outside　today。〃
　The　rain　pattered　lightly　against　the　living…room　windows；　the　flat　roof；　ing　in　from　the　sea。　The　light　was　cold　and　dark；　as　patchy　as　marble。
　'Do　it　here；'　he　said。　'You've　got　your　stuff　with　you。'
　She　came　out　into　the　living　room；　dusted　her　hands。　'No；　I　don't　think　so。　If　I　have　to　be　inside；　I　might　as　well　use　the　board。'
　She　confounded　him；　and　doing　nothing　was；　in　it's　way；　just　as　bad　as　taking　the　wrong　turn。　He　despised　hesitation。
　'Have　you　brought　any　sketches　with　you？'
　'Yes；　I　…'　She　glanced　away　towards　the　large　canvas　bag　by　the　side　of　the　sofa。　'Of　course。　Yes。'
　'I'd　like　to　see　them。'
　She　nodded；　reached　out　a　large　blue…paper…covered　tablet；　handed　it　to　him。
　She　wandered　around　the　room　while　he　went　from　page　to　page。　The　bubbling　of　the　tank。　The　muted　hiss　of　the　surf。
　'What's　this？'
　He　looked　up。　She　was　standing　in　front　of　a　low　walnut　breakfront；　hands　clasped　loosely　behind　her　back。　She　meant　the　objects　he　had　hung　on　the　wall　one　above　the　other；　a　pair　of　scabbarded；　gently　curving　swords。　The　top　one　was　perhaps　thirty　inches　long；　the　one　beneath　perhaps　twenty。
　He　watched　the　shadowed　line　of　her　spine　for　a　moment；　pared　it　with　the　one　in　the　sketch　he　held　in　front　of　him。　'They　are　the　ancient　swords　of　the　Japanese　samurai；'　he　said。　'The　longer　one　is　the　katana；　the　killing　sword；　the　other；　a　wakizashi'
　'What're　they　used　for？'
　'bat　and　seppuku：　ritual　suicide。　In　ancient　times；　only　the　samurai　were　allowed　to　wear　and　use　the　daisho；　the　two　blades。'
　'Where　did　you　get　them？'　Still　she　had　not　taken　her　eyes　off　them。
　'They're　mine；'　he　said。
　She　turned　her　head　and　smiled。　'You　mean　you're　a　samurai？'
　'In　a　way；'　he　said　seriously　and　got　off　the　couch。　He　stood　beside　her；　thinking　about　the　three　hours　a　day　he　practiced。
　'Can　I　see；'　she　said；　'the　long　blade？'
　Carefully　he　reached　up；　took　the　katana　off　the　wall。　'I　shouldn't　do　this。'　One　hand　on　the　sheath；　fingers　of　his　right　hand　wrapped　around　the　long　hilt。
　'Why　not？'
　He　pulled　slowly；　its　shining　length　revealed　in　a　four…inch　span。　'The　katana　should　be　drawn　only　for　bat。　It's　sacred。　Given　in　the　manhood　ceremony；　christened　with　its　own　name；　it　is　the　heart　and　soul　of　the　samurai。　This　is　a　dai…katana；　longer　than　the　standard　sword。　Don't　touch　it；'　he　said　sharply　and　she　withdrew　the　extended　finger　in　alarm。　'It　would　sever　your　fin