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epted the call after the first ring。 It was Pear who needed her。 She could afford to wait。
She wished now that she could cry； but even through the mist of the spirits and the drug she found herself dry； her interior as sere and forbidding as a desert bleached by the sun。
She turned and walked silently across the deep sapphire wall…to…wall carpet of the bedroom。 Through the open door she saw the vast expanse of the umber leather couch and the terracotta carpet which dominated the living…room … or her workroom as she preferred to call it： they rarely wanted to use the bed any more。
Her thick hair was like honey and； as she passed through a bar of sunlight； it took on the lustre of rich silk。 She wore a forest…green natural satin robe； loosely belted； which clung to her like a second skin； showed off her ample cleavage； her long legs； but which concealed those parts of her body which； in her most private thoughts； she despised。 There was not a single mirror in the entire apartment； not even over the basin in the bathroom； yet she had a cupboard full； stashed away； it was a popular item。
She picked up the phone。 'Yes。'
'Darling； what took you so long？' Pear said in her ear。 'Something horribly naughty？'
'Not naughty enough。' Gelda closed her eyes。
Pear chuckled。 'That's my girl。' Her voice changed gear abruptly。 'G； are you all right？'
'Sure； why？'
'You haven't been out much lately。 Some of the girls were asking； that's all。 They miss you。'
'I miss them； too；' Gelda said； wondering whether she meant it or not。 'I've been thinking a lot； Pear。'
'My dearest darling；' Pear said patiently； 'you know that thinking is no good for the soul。 You've got to get out more； go to a couple of parties。'
'You know I don't do that sort of thing；' Gelda snapped。
'Please。 I wasn't soliciting。' Pear's voice seemed pained now。 'My darling； I care about you。 Genuinely care。'
'I'm worth a lot to you。'
'Now you forget that kind of talk。 G。' It was Pear's turn to snap。 'You are just being contrary。 I know that and I forgive you that statement。 There aren't many people I care about in this world … Lord knows； none of the girls … but you're one of them。'
Tm one of your girls；' Gelda said stubbornly。
She heard Pear's exasperated sigh on the other end of the line。 'Darling； need I remind you again that it was you who sought me out？ Yes； I provide your clientele； but they're a very special breed； you don't need me to tell you that。 One thousand dollars a night is nothing to look down your nose at。 You could perhaps make more by the hour but what's the point； darling？ That won't make you happy and this does。 But I can hardly say that you are one of my girls。 My God； what a difference！ People ask for you； my darling。 That's the difference。'
'Do you have something for me？' Gelda asked woodenly。
Pear sighed again； giving up for the moment。 'Yes。 Dare。 The actress。 You remember …'
'I remember。'
'She only wanted you。'
'All right。'
'Do you have everything you need？' Pear inquired。
Gelda thought for a minute。 'The chaps were just cleaned but the silk …'
'I'll have Lawless e by with it this afternoon。 Anything else？'
Gelda was thinking about the enormous Remington Navy six…shooter with the long octagonal barrel and the polished hardwood stock under her expert guidance。 It wasn't called a six…shooter for nothing。 'Yes；' she said dreamily； 'a half pound of lox and four bagels。' She paused for a moment。 'Pear； be sure you tell him no onions； not when I'm working。'
Pear laughed in her ear。 'That's more like it。 You know tonight's going to be more pleasure than business。'
There was that to look forward to at least。 She turned to look out of the window at the bright brittle sunshine。 The phone slid from her grip。 The river of salt winked at her； dazzling。
The room itself was constructed entirely of wood。 Only wooden pegs and glue had been used in the laying of the boards； shiny with clear lacquer。
It was a rectangle； wider than it was deep； with a high ceiling。 The light was soft and well defined in every corner of the room。
It had the look of a gymnasium save for the raised dais with its low wooden railing that ran across the width at the rear of the room。 Otherwise it was devoid of furniture or other accoutrements。
There were a dozen men in white cotton leggings and shirts； lined up six against six opposite each other。 Each held a polished wooden stick； round with a shallow hilt guard。 Croaker would have thought of them as swords had it not been for a total lack of cutting edge or sharp point。 The men were maskless。 All were Japanese。 Most were in their early or middle twenties though he saw one teenager and two who were obviously nearer forty。
A man dressed in grey stood between these two groups； near the stairs leading up to the low dais。 He was small in stature。 He was hairless； making a judgement of his age somewhat more difficult。 Croaker put it somewhere between forty and fifty。 The man gave a piercing cry and the two lines advanced two quick steps； engaging each other in what looked to him like ritualized bat using the wooden sticks。
'This is a kenjutsu class； Lieutenant；' Nicholas said。 〃The finest in the Western Hemisphere and parts of the East as well。' Croaker watched； fascinated； as the men advanced and retreated； attacked and parried； crying out in unison。 But it all seemed so slow and methodical that he could not see how any of it could be at all useful in a fight。
In moments there came a soft bell tone and； at a sharp mand from the sensei； the men stepped back and； lifting their swords in unison； bowed deeply to each other。 Then they wheeled and broke up into quiet groups。 Some walked to the sides of the dojo and sat on their thighs； others bent and stretched where they were。 All seemed totally involved in these minute actions。 /
Nicholas took Croaker across the polished floor to where the kenjutsu master stood。 He bowed and said some things； in Japanese； to the small man； who bowed again and extended his hand towards Croaker。
Uncertain； Croaker took it。 It was as hard as a block of concrete。 The man smiled。
〃This is Fukashigi；' Nicholas told Croaker。 'Consider yourself introduced。'
Croaker let go the man's hand； said； 'What happens now？' 'Watch；' Nicholas said。
Fukashigi looked off to his left； spoke in rapid Japanese。 A student uncoiled himself and； first pausing to pick up another wooden sword； came quietly over。 He bowed to Nicholas； handed him one of the weapons。 Fukashigi spoke to him for a short time and at the end his head bobbed once。 'Hail' he said in assent。
The student was tall and lanky； with a hard face and quick； intelligent eyes。 Both he and Nicholas adopted an opening attitude； feet as far apart as the width of their shoulders； knees slightly bent； both hands on the hilts of their wooden swords。
'Now；' Nicholas said to Croaker； not taking his eyes from the student； 'there are five attitudes in kendo and only five： upper； middle； lower； right side； left side。 The first three are decisive； the last two； fluid； used when you encounter an obstruction overhead or on one side；。 However； this is not the Way。 To master the technique； you must have what is monly known as the 〃attitude … no attitude〃。 That is； adapt from one to the other as the situation dictates without thinking so that your motion from the beginning of the contest to the end is one uninterrupted fluid motion： like the sea。 The five elements； Lieutenant； are crucial to kenjutsu。'
And he attacked the student with such blinding speed and ferocity that Croaker literally jumped。
'Approach from the middle attitude；' Nicholas said and he performed it again；； slowed down immensely； the motions now magnified。 He lifted his sword so that its 'point' was in the student's face。 The man immediately attacked and； as he did； Nicholas； with minimal motion； slashed the other's sword to the right。
Nicholas stood with his sword high above his head； the upper attitude。 The student struck forwards and； at the same time； Nicholas cut downwards。
Nicholas lowered his sword。 The student attacked once more； moving his sword upwards。 This time the student blocked him but in that