It was the morning they were to travel to Mount Yakebitai, site of the first-ever Olympic competition in snowboarding. On the way they passed through some of the most spectacular scenery Travis had ever seen, but not all the Owls were interested in looking out into the bright, sunlit day.

“Put on a movie!” Nish had screamed from the back.

“Open a window!” Sarah, sitting directly behind him, screamed a moment later.

Mr. Dillinger went to the front of the bus and tried to arrange with the driver to put a movie on the bus’s video system, but the driver, unfortunately, had no movies.

“Shoot,” moaned Nish. “I wanted to see Godzilla in the original Japanese!”

“Hey, Data!” Sarah called ahead to where two seats had been removed to accommodate Data’s chair. “Put on your tape. I want to see how that guy bent those spoons.”

“Yeah!” shouted Fahd. “Me too.”

Everyone was in agreement, and Mr. Dillinger set about rigging the machine so it would play what Data had recorded so far of the Screech Owls’ great trip to Nagano.

“Where is it?” Mr. Dillinger called back to Data as he began pushing the “rewind” button on the machine.

“Not too far,” said Data. “About now!”

Mr. Dillinger pushed the “stop” button, then “start.” A picture began dancing, badly out of focus, on the screens throughout the bus.

Mr. Dillinger fiddled with the tracking buttons and the picture came into sharp focus. It was the opening-night banquet.

“Too far!” called several voices up and down the bus.

“Hey!” Nish shouted. “Hold it right there for a second!”

Mr. Dillinger looked back, startled.

“Pause it!” Nish shouted. “Pause it!”

Mr. Dillinger hit the “pause” button. Travis looked closely at the screen. There seemed to be nothing of importance on it. Just a waiter carrying a tray of sushi toward the head table.

“It’s a mistake,” Data said. “I didn’t know how to work the camera then.”

“No!” Nish shouted. “Back it up a touch!”

Mr. Dillinger pushed “reverse” and then “play.”

“That’s the creep who dumped me!” Nish shouted, anger in his voice.

Travis turned in his seat, startled. What was Nish going on about?

“Whatdya mean?” Fahd called out.

“The night of the banquet. Remember when I left the tent?”

“I remember when you ran out crying like a baby,” said Sarah.

“I thought I was gonna hurl, remember?”

Sarah rolled her eyes at Travis. Why did they have to go over all this again?

“So?” Lars said. “This guy made you throw up?”

“No-no-no-no. When I was out in the entrance. This guy comes running through like something’s chasing him. Bowls me right over.”

“Maybe he didn’t see you,” suggested Fahd.

“He saw me all right. He had to step over me to get past. I see him again, he’s dead meat.”

“What’re you gonna do?” shouted Andy. “Blow him apart with your force shield?”

“Very funny,” said Nish. “Very, very funny.”

Nish folded his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. Whether he was just shutting out the shots he was taking from his teammates or gathering his forces to bend Andy like a spoon, Travis couldn’t tell.

But he could tell that Nish was upset at whatever had happened to him. It did seem odd to Travis. People in Japan were so polite. They seemed always to be apologizing for no reason. And he had never seen anyone move so fast unless it was on skates.

Why would a waiter be running through that way anyhow? The kitchen was in the other direction, and through revolving doors.

And wasn’t this just about the same time that the mayor had stood up and dropped dead from the blowfish?

Fahd asked what everyone else was thinking: “Is the death on the tape?”

“A bit,” said Data.

“There’s no need for anyone to see that,” said Mr. Dillinger, his thumb hard against the “forward” button. “Who wants to see the spoon bend?”

“Me!”

“We do!”

“I do!”

“Me!”

Mr. Dillinger pushed the “play” button and the fuzzy picture cleared to show the little downtown restaurant. The woman was just coming to the table carrying the spoons.

A cheer went up through the bus.

But not from Travis. There was something about what had happened to Nish that was bothering him. Something to do with a man running away from a murder that was just about to happen.