el.the miko-第57部分

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cholas　into　one　of　the　fortable…looking　rattan　chairs　covered　in　Haitian　batik。　Potted　palms；　deep　green　sword　plants；　and　dwarf　palms　were　scattered　about。
　〃This　is　an　odd　environment　for　a　government　bureau；〃　Nicholas　said。
　Minck　lifted　an　arm。　〃Oh；　this　is　nothing　but　a　set。　We　get　a　lot　of　foreign　dignitaries　in　here。〃　He　smiled。　〃We　like　to　make　them　feel　at　home。〃
　〃Is　that　so？〃　Nicholas　stood　up。　He　watched　Tanya　and　Minck　as　he　moved　about　the　patio。　〃It's　almost　midnight；　yet　this　building　is　as　busy　as　if　it　were　ten　in　the　morning。　I　think　if　this　department　were　what　you　claimed　it　was　you'd　be　sitting　behind　a　metal　desk　in　a　cubicle　filled　with　fluorescent　lighting。　I　think　at　this　time　of　the　night　you'd　be　tucked　safely　into　your　bed。　I'd　like　to　know　who　you　two　are；　where　I　really　am；　and　what　it　is　I'm　doing　here。〃
　Minck　nodded。　〃All　understandable　concerns；　Nicholas。　May　I　call　you　Nicholas；　by　the　way？　Good。〃
　A　phone　rang；　the　sound　muffled　through　the　walls；　and　Tanya　excused　herself。
　〃Please　sit　down。〃　Minck　unbuttoned　his　seersucker　jacket。　〃This　department…it　goes　by　many　names；　the　Department　of　International　Export　Tariffs　is　just　one　of　them…costs　about　as　much　as　an　AW　AC　to　build　and　maintain。　That's　considerably　less　than　the　cost　of　a　B…l　bomber。　Still；　it　took　me　six　months　of　memo　wars　and　threats　to　get　this　set　built。〃　He　smiled　again。　〃Bureaucratic　minds　cannot　conceive　of　such　a　necessity　as　this；　but　I　can　and　do。　This　is　the　first　sight　a　Russian　defector　sees　after　the　wrapping　es　off。〃
　〃Spies？〃　Nicholas　said；　slightly　incredulously。　〃Raphael　Tomkin　was　involved　with　spies？　I　don't　believe　it。〃
　〃Why　not？〃　Minck　shrugged。　〃He　was　a　patriot。　And　he　was　a　close　friend　of　my　father's。〃　He　poured　more　juice　for　them　both。　〃Let　me　explain。　My　father　was　one　of　the　founders　of　the　OSS。　Tomkin　was　an　explosives　expert…learned　his　trade　in　the　Marines；　where　the　two　of　them　met。　He　could　take　the　wing　off　a　finch　without　ruffling　a　feather　on　its　breast。
　〃My　father　used　him　on　several　rather　delicate；　high…risk　forays
　toward　the　end　of　the　European　campaign。　Things　were　a　bit　desperate　by　then；　a　lot　of　last…ditch　Nazi　plots　to　contend　with；　along　with　clandestine　work　keeping　the　Russians　in　line。　Anyway；　this　one　mission　was　a　real　balls…up。　From　what　I　have　been　able　to　gather　it　was　Tomkin's　fault；　although　my　father　would　never　say　a　bad　word　against　him。　The　man　simply　lost　his　nerve　and　broke　under　the　pressure。　Three　of　the　unit　were　inadvertently　blown　up　when　the　packet　detonated　prematurely。〃
　Minck　drained　his　glass。　〃Your　ex…boss　was　a　highly　honorable　man。　I　guess　he　blamed　himself　and；　though　my　father　erased　him　from　the　field　roster；　he　remained　tied　to　the；　er；　organization。　My　father　did　not　want　his　friend　shamed　for　what　he　considered　a　human　error　and　Tomkin；　I　suppose；　did　not　want　to　make　the　break。〃
　〃So　you　inherited　him。〃
　〃So　to　speak。〃　Minck　cleared　his　throat。　〃I'm　not　callous。　In　this　regard；　knowing　the　circumstances；　I　gave　Tomkin　the　choice　after　my　father　died。〃
　There　was　a　question　that　needed　voicing　before　they　went　any　further。　〃Tell　me；〃　Nicholas　said　carefully；　〃was　Tomkin　Industries　built　with　OSS　money？〃
　〃Good　God；　no。〃　Minck　seemed　genuinely　shocked。　〃We　have　no　stake　in　the　corporation　whatsoever。　You　can　set　your　mind　at　ease　on　that　score。〃
　Nicholas　nodded　and　rose　again。　He　went　to　the　window…door；　looked　out。　Because　he　was　being　increasingly　uneasy　about　why　Tomkin　had　insisted　he　e　here；　he　was　reluctant　to　pursue　a　direct　course。
　〃What　happens　when　they　see　this　place？〃　he　said。　〃The　Russians；　I　mean。〃
　〃They're　disoriented；〃　Minck　replied。　〃You'd　be　surprised　at　how　much　current　Western　fiction　they　manage　to　read。　Most　of　them　expect　to　be　taken　to　a　colonial　mansion　somewhere　out　in　the　wilds　of　Virginia。〃　He　laughed。　〃They　seem　disappointed　when　they're　not　interviewed　by　Alec　Guinness　or　what　they　perceive　as　his　American　equivalent。〃
　Minck　stood　up。　So　much　for　the　easy　part；　he　thought。
　〃The　reason　you're　here　now；〃　he　said；　〃has　to　do　with　your　merger　with　Sato　Petrochemicals。〃
　〃Oh？〃　Nicholas　turned　to　face　him。　〃In　what　way？〃
　〃It's　a　matter；〃　Minck　said；　〃of　national　security。〃
　Akiko　had　not　slept　since　Nicholas　had　departed。　There　was　a　rhythm　to　her　life；　to　all　her　actions；　a　rhythm　that　Kyoki　had
　
　taught　her　to　search　for　and　to　use；　one　that　increased　her　power　a　thousandfold。
　What　was　she　to　do　now　that　Nicholas　had　returned　to　America？　There　were　three　possibilities　but　only　one　option　because　the　first；　to　break　off　her　plan　entirely；　was　unthinkable；　and　because　the　second；　to　follow　him　to　America；　would　be　to　put　herself　at　the　same　disadvantage　that　Saigo　had　labored　under。
　She　rolled　over　on　the　single　futon。　There　were　no　intricately　patterned　coverlets　here；　no　luxurious　appointments。　She　might　have　been　in　a　barracks　in　the　seventeenth　century　save　that　there　was　no　one　else　in　the　small　room。　Contrary　to　what　she　had　told　Sato；　she　had　not　gone　to　visit　her　aunt。　That　would　have　been　an　impossibility；　she　had　no　living　relative。
　Slowly　she　rose　and；　stretching；　began　her　morning　exercise　ritual。　Forty　minutes　later；　after　toweling　off　the　running　sweat；　taking　a　quick　cold　shower　to　close　the　pores　of　her　skin；　she　returned　to　her　cubicle　and　menced　the　slow；　studied　ritual　of　the　tea　ceremony。
　This　she　did　in　solitary　reflection　each　morning　no　matter　where　she　was。　It　remained　in　her　memory　the　only　link　with　her　mother；　the　only　physical　thing　the　woman　had　taught　her。　Akiko's　mother　had　been　a　chano…yu　sensei。
　There　was　an　almost　religious　fervor　to　the　tiny；　practiced　movements。　The　element　of　perfection　before　the　Void　brought　the　concept　of　Zen　concentration　to　the　art　of　preparing　tea　as　it　did　to　many　daily　Japanese　preparations；　transforming　them；　lifting　them　from　the　mundane　onto　the　plane　of　art；　involving　the　spirit　as　well　as　the　mind　and　the　hand。
　With　the　pale　green　tea　a　froth　in　the　small　handleless　cup；　Akiko　arose　and　slid　open　the　fusuma。　Beyond　the　wide　veranda　was　the　reflection　garden；　its　pure　white　pebbles　dazzling　in　all　light；　its　three　black　igneous　rocks　set　in　harmonious　confluence　along　the　perimeter。
　And　just　to　the　right　of　center　rose　the　branched　trunk　of　the　giant　cedar。　As　Akiko　slowly　sipped　her　stingingly　bitter　tea；　she　allowed　her　eyes　to　pass　over　the　fluted　configurations　of　light　and　dark；　shadow　and　sunlight　dappling　the　textured　needles。　She　was　so　long　at　it　that　when　at　last　she　returned　to　her　starting　point；　the　shapes　had　changed　subtly　with　the　an'gle　of　the　sun。
　Thus　lost　in　the　Void；　her　mind　heard　again　the　plangent　double　notes　of　the　bamboo　flute；　elongated　and　sorrowful。　This　was　the　only　music　she　heard…save　for　the　birdsongs　which　acpanied　the　changing　of　the　seasons…for　all　the　long　years　of　her　stay　with　Kyoki。
　The　bittersweet　song　began　at　noontime　just　as　she　was　serving　Kyoki　his　tea；　abasing　herself　before　him；　kowtowing　in　the　ancient　Chinese　tradition　on　which　he　insisted。　She　could　feel　anew　the　chill　of　the　stone　flooring　against　her　slightly　parted　lips…　there　were　no　tatami　in　the　ancient　castle。
　Often；　in　the　afternoon；　between　studies；　she　would　peer　through　the　heavy　latticework　of　greenery　beyond　the　slit　windows　carved　into　the　thick　stone　walls　on　the　off　chance　that　she　would　catch　a　glimpse　of　the　player。　He　was　a　komuso；　a　follower　of　the　Fuke　sect　of　Buddhism。　He　would　have　a　straw　basket　upturned　over　his　head；　garbed　in　a　simple　striped　robe；　wooden　geta　on　his　feet。　A　musician　of　such　consummate　skill　that　often　she　would　find　herself　weeping　for　no　discernable　reason　other　than　the　tender　cruelty　of　the　notes；　dropping　one　by　one　through　the　atmosphere　like　dissolving　snowflakes。
　Clever　girl　that　she　was；　she　never　allowed　Kyoki　to　see　her　tears。　Had　he　suspected　her　of　weeping　he　would　surely　have　punished　her。　That　was　Kyoki's　way：　the　battle　mander。
　High　on　the　castle's　ramparts　flapped　the　sashimono…the　ancient　battle　standard…that　he　had　fashioned。　As　tradition　dictated　'　it　was　dominated　by　the　mander's　seal；　in　this　case　a　depiction　of　a　stylized　mempo…a　battle　mask　of　hinged　steel。　They　came　in　many　styles　and　shapes。　Kyoki's　was　the　most　feared；　the　akuryo：　an　evil　demon's　visage　on　a　black　field。
　During　the　day；　Kyoki　always　positioned　Akiko　so　that　the　sashimono　was　in　her　line　of　vision。　She　was　never　free　from　it；　for　at　night　she　could　hear　the　heavy　snap　of　the　cloth　in　the　wind　even　in　her　sleep。
　And　terror　rode　on　her　back　for　so　long　that　she　secretly　suspected　that　Kyoki　had　stolen　into　her　chamber　while　she　slumbered；　sectioned　out　her　heart；　and；　with　the　dust　of　some　arcane　spell；　had　replaced　it　with　an　organ　of　crystal　into　which　he　could　peer　whenever　it　pleased　him。
　Akiko's　eyes　snapped　open　and　she　looked　downward　at　the　cup　she　held　tightly　in　both　hands。　Tears　had　stirred　the　dregs　of　the　leaves；　whorling　them　into　new　patterns。
　She　blinked　heavily　and　exhaled　a　long　stream　of　carbon　dioxide　she　had　been　unconsciously　holding　in　her　lungs。　Beyond　the　opened　fusuma；　beyond　the　pebble　garden　where　the　spreading　pine　swayed　in　a　gathering　wind；　she　could　see　the　gray　wall　past　which　lay　the　lushly　wooded　slopes　and　mist…filled　valleys　of　Yoshino。
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　Alix　was　moving　away　from　him。　Her　green　eyes　were　opened　wide　so　that　he　could　see　the　whites　all　around。　Her　hands　were　up　in　front　of　her　in　a　defensive　gesture；　and　when　the　backs　of　her　legs　hit　the　gunwale　she　was　so　startled　he　thought　she　was　going　to　tumble　over　backward　into　the　ocean。
　He　made　a　lunge　toward　her　and　she　screamed；　twisting　away　from　him；　slipping　on　the　deck　in　the　process；　skinning　her　knee。
　〃Get　away　from　me！〃　she　cried。　There　was　a　tinge　of　hysteria　in　her　voice。　〃Who　in　the　name　of　Christ　are　you？〃
　〃I　already　told　you。〃　There　was　a　weariness　to　his　voice　he　did　not　bother　to　hide。　〃Lewis　Croaker；　NYPD。〃　He　sat　on　the　opposite　gunwale；　his　stomach　quietening。
　〃You　threw　up　all　over　my　boat。〃　And　then　as　if　it　were　an　afterthought；　〃You　killed　a　man。〃
　He　looked　at　her　as　if　she　were　crazy。　〃He　would　have