46

3 November 3136
0245 hours

The tongue was warm and still drippy. Its hapless owner, gargling blood bubbles, was dragged away to be rendered, bit by bit, into fish food. (His koi positively thrived.) Eddie Alzubadai dropped the pulpy flesh into a massive aquarium that occupied an entire wall of his office. Instantly, the water boiled as razor-mouthed piranhas thrashed in a feeding frenzy.

Ever the perfect host, Alzubadai crossed to the maple sideboard and poured a cup of strong black tea. Alzubadai was lean, with long fingers, a pair of soulful sable-colored eyes, and a full head of hair black as a raven’s wing. He took pride in the fact that his nose—aquiline and perfectly proportioned to his angular features—had never been broken, despite his line of work. He turned, and proffered the teapot. ‘‘Tea?’’

‘‘Iie.’’ Matsuro Kamikuro sat in a wingback upholstered in jade-green silk opposite Alzubadai’s desk. The oyabun’s eyes were puffy with fatigue, his hair mussed and suit rumpled. ‘‘I do not take tea with men of no honor.’’

‘‘Stop, stop, you’re killing me, you and this honor shtick. You’ve got to learn a different tune.’’ Alzubadai plucked a cube of sugar from a matching canister with a pair of gold tongs. Sliding into a rosewood chair at his desk, Alzubadai sipped tea. The liquid was smoky and sweet. Replacing the cup on its saucer—china touching china with a tiny chime—Alzubadai turned his attention to a bowl of fresh fruit squared on his desk. Succulent fresh figs, luscious pears, fat brown dates . . . He selected a pear and began to skin the fruit with his favorite, wickedly long dagger.

‘‘You keep talking about honor,’’ Alzubadai said. He carefully sliced skin from the mellow ivory fruit, the length of unbroken peel scrolling like a curlicue. A little game, trying to peel the skin in one go. ‘‘Here it’s been almost two months, and no word from your people and nothing from Tormark’s command. What’s up with that?’’

Kamikuro said nothing. Humming, Alzubadai worked the dagger, nipping off the last bit of peel. He sectioned a wedge, delicately grasped the fruit between his thumb and the blade, and popped the morsel into his mouth. The ripe, wine-like flavor of the fruit exploded on his tongue, and he groaned with pleasure. ‘‘So,’’ he said, swallowing, ‘‘now you need them, and where are they, hunh? You’re yesterday’s news.’’

‘‘If so, then why am I still alive?’’ Kamikuro asked. ‘‘Clearly, you think I’m still of value. What, you are waiting for Ito to give in, perhaps?’’

Yeah, what about Ito? Alzubadai popped another bit of pear into his mouth to milk the moment. Yeah, make the old guy wait for it. He shook out a cloth and began cleaning his dagger. ‘‘I’m hoping your guy Ito makes contact, and you know why? That little stunt he pulled getting off Ludwig, stealing my DropShip. So now, instead of being a DropShip richer, I’m down two, if you count his. Pretty smart guy, the way he locked out his DropShip’s computer. But, you know, win some, lose some.’’ Alzubadai gave a good-natured shrug and replaced the cleaned dagger on his desk. ‘‘Can’t win you don’t take chances.’’

‘‘And what game of chance are we playing?’’

‘‘Life and death aren’t enough?’’

‘‘I am a realist. There are many more days behind than ahead for me, Alzubadai. I’ll not beg, nor is my life for sale.’’ Kamikuro paused, scrutinizing the younger man more carefully. ‘‘I think . . . Katana Tormark is alive, isn’t she? That’s why you’ve kept me alive. A swap: me for Tormark. Ah, I begin to see how it is. You’re afraid, aren’t you? Of your master, I suppose. Did you seize Katana Tormark first, or did you steal her from someone else?’’

Suddenly, Eddie Alzubadai found his tea less tasty than before. ‘‘Pretty fast for an old guy. You got all the answers, you tell me.’’

‘‘Oh, I don’t have to answer to anybody for anything. That’s your problem. But you must’ve had help, only there are layers insulating the prime mover. You’ll take the fall, and there will be no way to connect you with Warlord Toranaga.’’ Kamikuro gave a satisfied grin. ‘‘What an unpleasant end you shall meet, Alzubadai, because Tormark will not forget.’’

‘‘Yeah, right, you got all the answers. Well, wanna know why I rousted you from your beauty sleep? Tormark’s coming for you, old man. We caught our JumpShip coming in and let it pass, made it all cool. Same for the DropShip. Now, anyone who does night ops, they strike between three and four. So when she comes, I’ll be waiting.’’

‘‘She’ll have help from my waka-gashira, Ito. You can’t win.’’

Yeah, you think you’re so smart? Suck on this, old man.

‘‘No? Well, Ito and me, we’re like this,’’ Alzubadai said, crossing his fingers. He enjoyed the way Kamikuro’s smile dribbled away. ‘‘He’s mine, old man, and has been for months,’’ Alzubadai said. ‘‘He’s mine.’’