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ping on a cockroach。 After all； that was what Tomkin was。 He could never be called a civilized man。
As to the eventual escape； the man knew that on this assignment there was a possibility that it would not happen。 It did not faze him in the least； for it was something towards which he had prepared all his life。 To die as a warrior was life's highest aspiration； after all； for history recorded the manner of one's death and it was in this that one was remembered forever； not how one lived one's life。
Not that he might ever be caught eliminating Tomkin。 It was the other half of his plan： the part that made it all worthwhile。 He was being paid a small fortune to take out Tomkin； but money meant very little to him。 In fact； when he had arrived to take a look around … as he had put it to his then potential employers … he had not been certain he would take the assignment。 But he had e upon something so startling； so irresistible that he could not refuse。 He had learned early to take what life gave。 He was being given something now that was so fantastic that he found himself salivating at the prospect。 To turn away from such an opportunity would be a crime。 The chance would never e again。 The set…up would never be so sweet。
And this had been the second reason for not taking Tomkin out at this moment。 Besides； it would； by necessity； have to be sloppy； this kind of total improvization went against his grain。 He could do it and do it well but he resisted it。 He hated to mop up all the loose ends after the fact。 He liked things clean and neat； in another life he might have made a superb diamond cutter。
So it was that he just took a long； hard look at Tomkin as he strode down the hallway； unaware that death was at his left hand。
Then the man had moved on； down the unfinished corridor； ducking a loose loop of wire flex hanging from an open panel in the ceiling。 In a moment he was through the door to the fire stairs； off the floor。
Once down in the atrium lobby； half in shadows； he poked a finger in his ear as if scratching an itch。 In the canal was now placed a flesh…coloured plastic sphere； flattened on the outside。 It was totally undetectable。 He touched the top of it with the tip of his index finger and began to listen。
Nicholas felt it as he turned away from the line of shining chromium phones along one wall of the station： that premonitory tickle at the base of his neck。 He began to walk calmly towards a bookstore； though he had had no intention of going in there。 It was merely the way he was headed and he did not want to make any sudden alteration in his movements。 He stood by the window； however； instead of going in at the open door。 People passed him； going in and out。 There was a short line at the cash register； there was a sale on； 20 per cent off the top ten paperback best sellers。
He stood at a slight angle； not looking inside… but using the plate glass as one would a mirror。 He watched covertly a good section of the station behind him。 Observation was made difficult by the poor refraction； the glare of the lights； the distortion of image caused by the glass itself。 He accepted all of these and made allowances。
It was not good to stay here too long。 He glanced at his watch。 He still had fifteen minutes and he had no reason to sit for that time on the waiting train。 Especially not now。
He walked away from the bookstore window； moving diagonally across the station。 An old woman； her suitcase on wheels； crossed his path and two sailors in crisp whites passed him； one spinning the tail end of a lewd joke to the other。 The young woman at the pillar was no longer there； either she had met her date or had given it up； three dark…haired children squired by a dour…looking woman scampered along； laughing and teasing each other。 A man in a dark windbreaker stood by the bank of lockers； a lit cigarette dangling from one corner of his mouth。 Opposite； a man in a camel…coloured suit flipped through the pages of the current Hustler； putting it down as a man with a tan briefcase came up to him。 They shook hands and walked off。
Nicholas entered a Nedicks； wedged himself in next to a fat man devouring a slice of coconut cream pie。 A dollar bill and some change were on the counter before him； his lips were dotted with pie crust and flecks of ersatz cream。 The man ignored Nicholas as he sat down on a stool。 He ordered a frank and an orange drink。 The columns of the place were mirrored and Nicholas used these to continue his covert surveillance while he ate。 He got his food； paid for it。
The feeling was still there； unmistakable。 There was only one explanation。 He was being observed by a haragei adept。 The receiver was also a transmitter； there was no way to damp the two…way effect。 This one had just e too close； that was all。 Careless。 And foolish。
Nicholas wiped his lips with the stiff napkin； took one last look in the mirror and went out。 He had just over five minutes before the train left and in that time he would have to flush the adept。 He had no thoughts now about missing the train； his overriding concern was for Justine。 She was most assuredly in danger and he felt totally impotent being so far from her。 It was one thing asking Doc Deerforth to look in on her once a day； quite another for him to be there when an emergency arose。 Nicholas； rightly； trusted no one but himself in such a situation。
He had one more thing to do。 He went to the phones again； called Lieutenant Croaker。
'Yeah。' The voice was harsh and rushed。
'Nicholas Linnear； Lieutenant。'
'What's up？'
Tm on my way back out to the Island。 Justine's had some kind of accident。'
There was some silence。 Nicholas was still checking the vicinity。
'Croaker； there's someone following me。'
'Seeing shadows or just too much TV？'
'I haven't seen anyone … yet。'
The singing along the line seemed like a live thing； the only thing to make a sound。
'How do you know there's anyone there？' Croaker asked finally。
'You might not believe me if I told you。'
'Try me。'
'It's haragei。 Bujutsu training。 It's a kind of ESP。 A way of looking at the world； sensing things … you might even call it an enlarged sixth sense。'
Nicholas half expected a joke but none seemed forthing from the other end of the line。
'Who do you think it is？'
'The ninja。'
There was an indrawn breath。 'Stay there； Linnear； I'll be right over。'
'No good。 He'd never stay put that long。 Besides； he'd smell you a block away。'
'We can't just sit tight。'
'Believe me； it's the only way。 Leave him to me。'
'To you？ Where the hell do you e into it？'
'I think he's after Tomkin； Justine； too。 That's why I'm going back out。'
'Since when did you get interested in Tomkin's life？' The voice held a hard edge to it now。
'Since I'm working for him。 Today。'
He heard the indrawn breath in his ear。 'Shit！ Listen； you motherfucker …'
'No； you listen； Croaker。 You have no idea of what you are up against。 No idea at all。 I tried to give you a taste of it today at the dojo but I guess it's true what they say about Westerners： they're too thick…headed ever to be educated。'
He slammed the phone down and went to join the crowd moving down the stairs to Track 17。 His scalp tingled all the while。 Just as he left the lower level； he thought he caught a glimpse of a face。 It was only a glimpse。 A ghostly flash； the pale crescent of a face in semi…profile。 Something about it stuck with him。 He thought fleetingly of reversing his course but the crush of people was enormous。
Then he was on the train； in a window seat。 The feeling was gone。 Had it ever been there？ He knew better than to ask that question of himself。 But why would the ninja be following him？
There had to be an answer but he was unable to e up with a satisfactory one。
There was some jostling in the aisles as last…minute passengers squeezed on board。 The air…conditioning cut out for a moment and someone moaned。 The lights blinked and then full power came on。 Everything appeared as it should be。
The bell rang and the doors slid shut with a sigh； sealing them in。 A moment later； the train had started up and the platform began to slide away。 He looked out of the window。 A black man was swee