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She heard the sound of raised voices as she vomited seawater into the surf。 Then strong hands had her under her armpits。 Her head hung down on her chest and she coughed。
'Are you all right？'
She tried to nod； only vomited again； heaving wretchedly。 She felt the dry sand against her back。 She was aware of her whole body gasping。 She felt as if she would never get enough air inside her。 Her lungs worked like a bellows and the sound was so harsh and rasping to her ears that she might have been an asthmatic。 There was a folded towel behind her head； elevating her face。 A pins…and…needles tingling broke out along her cheeks and lips。 She tried to raise her arms but they felt as if they belonged to another person。 There was no strength left within her。
'Take it easy；' someone said above her。 'Take it easy。〃
She closed her eyes； feeling as she did so a kind of kinetic vertigo as one does after stepping off a violent ride at an amusement park。 In her mind； she still spun in the grip of the undertow。 Gradually this faded and； as it did so； her breathing began to return to normal。
'Okay now？'
She nodded； not daring to speak。
'Live around here？' It was a feminine voice。
She nodded。
'We've called for a doctor。'
Tm all right；' she said。 Her voice sounded strange to her。
'He'll be here in a minute。'
She nodded； closing her eyes again。 She thought of Gelda and the time at the seashore when they were both in the water。 Perhaps Gelda was nine； she was six。 They were playing and； as a joke； she had poked Gelda in the ribs。 Her sister had turned to her； a look of fury on her face； and； reaching up her arms； had clamped her hands onto the top of Justine's head。 Down Justine had gone； under the water。 At first it was all right。 But then she wanted to get up； to breathe。 Gelda held her down。 She struggled； but still Gelda would not relent。 In her mind； she pleaded with her sister； then she reviled her。 When at last Gelda had let her up； she was hysterical。 She ran from the water； crying； right into her mother's arms。 She had never told anyone what Gelda had done to her but for a week she would not look at； let alone talk to； her sister。 Gelda's only response had been to gloat silently。
Justine opened her eyes to find Doc Deerforth bending over her； talking to her。 She reached up and； shuddering； cried against his chest。
When Lieutenant Croaker left Nicholas outside the dojo； he called in through the car radio to see about messages。 McCabe wanted him to call back； that was no doubt about the Tanaka…Okura thing； Vegas had dropped in to talk； and Finnigan wanted a progress report。
He was rolling cross…town and the traffic was fierce。 'If you can still catch Vegas； tell him I'll be back around four…thirty； okay？' He did not want to speak to the D。A。 yet and as for Finnigan … fuck him！
No other calls。 Croaker tried to clear his mind of the anticipation。 But oh； how he wanted that call to e in。 'That's it；' he said。 'Patch me through to Vincent Ito at the M。E。's； will you？' The heat sat in wavy lines along the street。 He wiped at his sweating forehead。 When Vincent came on the line； Croaker arranged a dinner。 Vincent suggested Michita and gave Croaker the address。
Croaker went through Central Park at the Seventy…second Street Transverse and； moments later； he had pulled up outside the three…storey brownstone that housed Terry Tanaka's dojo。 There he interviewed all the instructors。 He called for a police artist to draw a posite of the strange Japanese who had visited the dojo on the afternoon of the double murder。 None of the people he interviewed had seen the man before or since。 None knew where he had e from。 The aikido sensei recalled his name as Hideoshi； but that meant absolutely nothing to Croaker。 Still； it was conceivable that the man was the killer or was； at least； tied up with him in some way。
It was well after four by the time he was finished。 There had been no prints at Terry's save for the two victims'； but。。。 but he called for a print team to dust the dojo anyway。 It was not good practice to overlook any possibility； however remote。 Who knows； he thought； we may be lucky and pull something。 Then he asked for a detective sergeant to canvass the block to see if any neighbour had seen the man。
In the office he checked in with Irene； threw the two polythene bags of clothes and personal effects of Terry and Eileen into a corner。
He checked for calls。 Nothing。
He was about to open the bundles for tagging when his doorway was darkened by Vegas。 He was an enormous man with a full beard and eyes like points of lightning。 His skin was so black it took on blue highlights in the fluorescent lighting of the station house。
'Hey；' Croaker said； turning his head。
'What it is。' Vegas's voice was like the rumble of distant thunder。
'Heard you wanted to see me。' ；
'Yowsah。'
'Take a seat。'
Vegas sat down with a grunt。 He wore faded jeans； Texas cowboy boots and a grey and black cowboy shirt with pearl snaps。 'I gots to get outa there；' he said。 He meant Narco。 'I am being driven up the fuckin' wall。〃
'Sallyson？' He was the Captain。
'You mean Captain Ahab。' Vegas snorted。 'The fuckin' bastard's ready for the funny farm。' He leaned forward； his elbows on his long thighs。 'Look； Lew； I want in here。 Homicide。'
Croaker looked at his friend。 He had known Vegas for a long time。 They had been hooked up in plenty of wild busts； did each other favours all the time and never did one lightly。 'Finnigan's not an easy sonovabitch to take； my man；' Croaker said seriously。 'He is one mean motherfucker。'
'Don't make no never mind to me； Jack；' Vegas said。 'Long as I get away from Narco … those boys ain't funny no more。'
Croaker squinted up at him。 'Let's see。 Homicide's not the only answer。 Why； you could slip right into Vice； no trouble at all。'
Vegas's face looked pained。 'Sheeit Sure； I could make a bundle； takin' my part of the grease each month。 Only trouble is； you sawed…off sonovabitch； those fuckers don't allow no black man in on the big…time scam； you dig？ They don〃 want me over there。'
'Well； Vegas； I sure as hell don't know whether Finnigan would want you either。'
'You know he's an okay motherfucker when it es to skin； Jack。 Wassamatter； don't you want to work with me？'
Croaker laughed。 'I sure as hell would love it but right now the old man ain't too pleased with me。'
'Shit！ That ain't no big thing。 You know how he is。 Next time you land a big one an' the mayor hands him another bronze pin； he'll be back kissin' yo' white ass。'
Croaker grinned。 'Maybe so。 Maybe so。'
'Ain't no two ways about it； Jack。'
Croaker longed to tell Vegas about the Didion case： his suspicions and what he was working on。 It was only procedure； after all … you needed a back up in any operation … but he knew that he could not do it。 Not that he did not trust the man … they had saved each other's lives too many times for trust ever to be a factor。 It was unfair to the other man。 It was one thing for Croaker to put himself in departmental jeopardy； quite another to rope someone else in unwittingly。
Croaker reached out； slapped the other's leg。 'Okay； you got it。 I'll ask Finnigan soon's I think the time's right and we got a chance of him not biting my head off。'
Vegas gave him a wide grin。 'I dig。 I dig。' He got up； towering over Croaker。 'You lay it on him an' we'll see what pops up。 Meanwhile； this is one nigger that's got to hit the streets again。 Sallyson's given us all quotas to fill； dig？ Sheeit' He turned and waved。 'Later。'
'Lay one on for me；' Croaker said。
Vegas smiled。 'Only on the prettiest one； Jack。〃
'I don't know； Nick； it seems as if I've been here for a hundred years。' Vincent looked down at the peanut he was shelling。 'It's funny but Tokyo seems like a dream to me； nothing more。'
'You ought to go back； then。 If only for a vacation。' 'Yeah； I suppose I should。' He popped the peanut into his mouth。 。
They walked down the tiered stone steps into the Central Park Zoo。 They strolled over hexagonal tiles； smelling the mingled musk of the animals in the heat。 They walked north； towards the Monkey House。
'But I won't。 I know that now。' 'There's not