The Cold Smell Of Sacred Stone

'Did the president personally issue the order for Madison to be killed, Frederickson? Is that why you can't quite decide what to do with me?'

'Veil?' I said. 'What do you think?'

'Kitten,' Veil said to the huge figure standing before the window, 'I know you spared Mongo's life. Would you consider getting out of here and forgetting about killing me?'

'You'd accept my word?'

'I would. I believe you act on your own strong code of honor, which is the real reason you chose to attack me the way you did. Even if you're forced to take a sizable cut in future earnings, it's still better to lose some of your reputation and fees than all of your life. Remember that I don't owe you anything, and I might just break your neck now and be done with it if I think you're going to be a headache in the future.'

'Do you really think you could do that, Kendry?' Henry Kitten asked in a low, even voice. 'Do you think you could do it even with the use of both your arms?'

'With the friend that you mentioned and his gun over there, Kitten, I'm not obliged to give you lessons. As I said, I take you to be a man of honor and great pride. Will you promise that I won't see or hear of you again if Mongo and I let you walk out of here?'

'It's certainly a tempting offer,' Henry Kitten said, and shrugged his shoulders again.

That was one ninja shrug too many, and I pulled the trigger on the Beretta. As the gun roared, his left arm-which had shot out from the top of his head with the speed of a striking snake-jerked back. He spun around and grabbed for his left shoulder at the same time as what felt like a white hot branding iron sliced across my forehead, just above my eyes. I pulled the trigger three times in rapid succession, firing blindly now as a thick, warm curtain of blood flowed into my eyes. I heard glass shatter.

Stunned, I fell over on my side and frantically swiped at my blood-filled eyes with my free hand as I heard the thud-thud-thud of bodies colliding and blows landing. I felt nauseated and light-headed, and knew that I was close to fainting.

My left hand found a paint rag. I used it to wipe away the blood from my eyes, then pressed it tightly against the shuriken-split flesh of my forehead. I struggled to my feet, swaying, then leaned back against the wall and squinted at the blurred tableau in a pool of moonlight almost perfectly bisected by the powerful beam of the flashlight.

What I saw was two ninjas doing battle, dancing on the balls of their feet as they spun and charged, firing side and high kicks at one another's body. I noted with some satisfaction that I'd managed to even the odds a little, since Henry Kitten's left arm flopped uselessly at his side, and blood seeped from the bullet hole I'd put in his shoulder. Like Veil, the assassin was now forced to rely primarily on kicks, while taking care to protect his injury.

Incredibly, at least to me, Veil had chosen to toss aside his deadly nunchaku sticks, along with the two knives he'd had in his waistband; it seemed he intended to give Henry Kitten a few lessons after all.

Veil was nothing if not creative in his practice of the martial arts. He had mastered the kata of a dozen different systems, but used no system exclusively; indeed, he had devised what he laughingly called a no-system, which was all his own and which he considered superior to any of the many systems that were traditionally taught. Strict and sterile adherence to any one school's kata could be a deadly trap, he had warned me on more than one occasion, inasmuch as it could telegraph your next moves to a knowledgeable opponent and provide him with a killing suki, or opportunity.

Consequently, much of my training with Veil had consisted of my trying to unlearn the formal system of karate kata I had dutifully mastered in order to earn my black belt. Therefore, it was with some surprise that I watched Veil initially set up and move in a taijutsu mode, kata emphasizing distorted body angles, as if to protect his injured arm. Even Kitten, his triangular face briefly illuminated by a shaft of moonlight, seemed startled by what he must have assumed was his good fortune; and then the white ninja proceeded to execute a series of koppojutsu moves designed to penetrate Veil's defensive maneuvers, to smash bone. His mistake. At the last moment, a microsecond, Veil spun out and away from a side kick, wheeled back in, and delivered an elbow strike to Kitten's jaw that shattered teeth as it whipped the assassin's head back.

First round, first blood, to Veil. Not too trashy, I thought. In the future, which was looking brighter all the time, I vowed to pay even closer attention to the things my teacher had to say.

But Kitten had his own ideas about the future. Seemingly oblivious to shock and what had to be considerable pain, he leaped high in the air, twisted, fired a high kick that would have broken Veil's neck if it had landed. Veil leaned back, letting the foot fly past his head, then drove his left fist into the inside of Kitten's heavily muscled thigh, just above the knee. Kitten grunted with pain and surprise. He landed on his other leg-awkwardly-and just managed to duck under one of Veil's kicks that would have crushed his temple.

I raised my gun with a badly trembling hand, trying to track Kitten, but did not pull the trigger. Both men were constantly spinning and circling, darting in and out of the smoky light, and I would have had a hard time telling which was which even if my vision hadn't been constantly slipping in and out of focus. Also, blood had soaked through the rag I held over my forehead and was once again seeping into my eyes. I wiped away blood with the back of my gun hand, then sidled along the wall, angling closer to the two figures, looking for one clean shot.

Limping slightly, Henry Kitten stepped back and began slowly to circle Veil, who had stopped moving and was now standing calmly in the center of the patch of moonlight, the flashlight beam highlighting his head and shoulders. Suddenly Kitten attacked with what was to me blinding speed, faking a side kick with his left leg, then spinning counterclockwise and launching a flying high kick at Veil's damaged right arm. Veil spun the other way, inside the kick, and drove the point of his left elbow deep into Kitten's momentarily unprotected groin. Kitten cried out and doubled over while he was still in the air. He landed on his side, immediately sensed the danger and managed to scramble to his feet, although he was still clutching at his groin, inhaling and exhaling with great whooping sounds. He tried to back away, but he wasn't fast enough. Veil's fist shot out and landed squarely on the other man's bullet-damaged shoulder. Kitten screamed, took one hand from his groin to clutch at his shoulder. For a moment I thought he would go down, but he managed to keep his balance while he spun around and began to stagger toward one side of the loft. Veil facilitated Henry Kitten's attempt at walking by stepping up behind the man and grabbing his belt, lifting him up on his toes. In what seemed to me an astonishingly brief time, Veil had achieved zanshin — total physical and mental domination of his opponent. He steered the other man around and marched him toward the end of the loft. When they were a few feet from the bank of windows, Veil flexed his knees, and with a mighty pull and shove hurled Kitten through the air. The ninja assassin disappeared into the night in an explosion of glass. Henry Kitten didn't scream; amid the tinkling of glass came the sound of his body landing in the mounds of jagged junk and mushy, rotting garbage in the narrow alleyway four stories below. When Veil turned away from the window and came toward me, he didn't even seem to be breathing hard.

'Not bad for a painter,' I managed to say before the gun slipped from my fingers and I slumped unconscious to the floor.

2

I awoke to find myself lying on Veil's bed, with Veil bending over me applying the finishing touches to taping a thick bandage in place on my forehead. The smell of turpentine was strong in my nostrils, and I suspected it was coming off me. The lights were back on, and I could hear the thrumming of the two giant exhaust fans in the work area as they carried away the last traces of the acrid smoke from the fire I had started. A teakettle was whistling in the kitchen behind the thin partition beside the bed. I started to sit up, but Veil put his hand on my chest and gently but firmly pushed me back down on the bed.

'Easy, Mongo. You've lost a lot of blood. Start moving around too quickly, and you'll pass out again.'

'How long have I been out?'

'A little more than an hour; you had a nice nap, but considering the shock to your system and the blood