‘Kazuo?’
The voice came from behind her, a quiet voice, yet forged with authority. Turning, she found herself face to face with a young Japanese man. He was a head shorter than the big man, wide through the shoulders with no waist to speak of. He wore a black turtleneck sweater, black pants, black soft-soled shoes, and his long black hair tumbled over the sweater at his neck. His brown eyes burned with anxiety.
She froze for a moment, until the big man spoke and she realized he was a friend.
‘Are you okay, pal?’ he said to the big man.
‘Bastard took a piece out of my arm. Was there anybody else?’
‘No, he was operating alone,’ the Japanese said. And then he smiled and raised his eyebrows ‘Maybe I should have backed you up. It did not occur to me that he might be a match for you. He did not look that tough.’
‘A match for me! Bullshit. He was a cheap Street fighter. He got lucky. Oh, by the way, Eliza Gunn, this is Sammi. He followed you while I followed the cheap shot with no ears. It’s known as a double-up.’
She had stopped listening. Instead she was concentrating on the big man’s eyes.
‘One of your eyes changed colour,’ she said to the big man.
‘What?’
‘That eye. That green eye on the right. It used to be gray.’
He turned away from her and Sammi peered intently at the big man.
‘The gods have indeed played a trick,’ Sammi said with mock seriousness. ‘They have changed the colour of your right eye.’
‘Let’s get me to Dr Saiwai,’ the big man said. ‘I need a little repair work.’
But Eliza would not be distracted, She started to laugh. She laughed very hard. ‘Contact lenses,’ she said. ‘You were wearing contact lenses. The cowboy boots must add an inch or so to your height. The contact lenses change the colour of your eyes. The beard and everything ... Kazuo ... hell, you’re O’ Hara!’
V
The doctor’s house was on the outskirts of Kyoto, a dim, black one-story outline against the gray silhouette of Mount Hiei, which soared up behind it, less than two miles away. O’Hara and Sammi were gone less than fifteen minutes. When they came out, O’Hara had his hand stuffed in his pocket.
‘No big thing,’ he told her. ‘Twelve stitches, but the cut isn’t very deep. That bastard ruined my jacket.’
‘Tana will fix it. Nobody will even know,’ said Sammi.
‘Who’s Tana?’ Eliza asked.
‘Friend of the family,’ said O’Hara.
They drove back to Osaka, parked the car and walked to the nomiya, the sake bar, across from her hotel. It was a delicate place, dark and quiet, and after leaving their shoes near the door, they found a small booth near the back.
‘1 will call Tokenrui-san and tell him it went well. He’ll be worried,’ Sammi said and left the stall.
‘Is that Mr Kimura’?’ Eliza asked.
O’Hara nodded. He was looking at her hard with his green eyes, then he suddenly smiled for the first time and she began to feel warm. She took off her coat.
‘You got quite a bite there, pal,’ he said.
‘We can thank my dentist in Nebraska for that.’
‘Nebraska, hunh?’
‘Yep. Webster Groves high school, then the University of Missouri, then Boston, via Chicago. That’s the story of my life. Not much to it. Nothing like yours. Does this kind of thing happen often?’
‘Only when ,I get mixed up with television reporters that bite.’
She smiled at him across the table. ‘Cute,’ she said.
She had one hell of a smile. If ever a smile could be called ear-to-ear, it was that one.
‘What does that word mean?’ she asked.
‘What, “cute”?’
‘No, silly. Token ... whatever.’
‘Tokenrui-san?’
‘Right.’
‘Literally, token means “swords.” But in this case it’s interpreted to mean “the Master.”
‘Do you really think of him as your Master?’
‘Not the way you mean. In the aesthetic sense.’
