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Seeing the look in the Japanese's eyes； Sparrow backed away off the bed。 It was his turn now。
Doc Deerforth was thinking about the war。 He sat in his old wooden chair behind the desk in his office； a cup of steaming coffee half on the pale blue blotter in front of him。 His head was turned slightly so that he could gaze out through the screen window； past the ancient oak； out along Main Street。 This time of the morning there was little evidence of activity。 It was not yet seven o'clock。
Without looking； Doc Deerforth reached for his cup of coffee； took a long sip。 He scalded his tongue but he took no notice。
It was quite like malaria； he thought now。 Once caught it could never be cured entirely but would return over and over in diminished attacks like an unpleasant reminder of the past。 It might even be seasonal； he suspected； ing on most strongly during the hot days of July and August； the dog days when even out here in West Bay Bridge the sun was so withering； the atmosphere so sticky that the leaves on the trees seemed to wilt。
He never seemed to think of the war during the winter。
He picked up the phone； dialled Ray Florum's number at the police station。 He let it ring six times before cradling the phone。 He had dialled Florum's private line。 No one would pick it up but Ray himself。
Where the hell was he？ Doc Deerforth thought irritably。 Then he glanced at his watch； saw how early it was。 Ray didn't e in until around eight。 Still； Doc Deerforth wanted to know if there had been any progress towards capturing the
ninja。 He felt an irrational anger which； he knew； stemmed from fear。
The front…door bell rang and he jumped。 For a moment he considered ignoring it； but when it came again； he got up and went through the house。
'Nicholas；' he said； blinking into the light。 'e in。' He closed the door。 'What brings you here so early？ Are you ill？'
'I didn't wake you up； did I？'
Doc Deerforth laughed。 'Hell； no； son。 Just sitting here dreaming。' 。He peered closely at Nicholas。 'You don't look at all well。 I think you'd better e along with me。'
'I haven't slept； that's all；' Nicholas said； allowing himself to be led into the house。 But instead of taking him into his office； Doc Deerforth led him to the kitchen。
'A good breakfast will do you a world of good；' he said。 He opened the refrigerator； took out a carton of orange juice； handed it over。 'Here； help yourself。〃 He looked up。 'Bacon and eggs all right with you？'
'Hey； you don't have to …'
Doc Deerforth waved away his words。 'Course I don't have to。 I want to。' He smiled； carrying eggs to the stove。 'Besides； it's been a while since I had a guest for breakfast。 Do me good。 I've been sitting around too much lately。' He began to prepare the food。 He got more coffee going； then put up the bacon。 The sizzling of the meat gave 。him a peculiarly warm feeling。 He wondered about that until he recalled he used to cook breakfast for the girls。 That seemed so long ago。 'I s'pose you want to know what Florum's been up to；〃 he said。 Nicholas sat down at the table； poured himself some juice。 He looked up expectantly。 'Nothing；' Doc Deerforth continued。 'There's not a damn thing for him to go on。'
'I'm not surprised；' Nicholas said。 He told the other about what had taken place in the city。
'Friends of yours； huh？' Doc Deerforth said when he had finished。 〃That's a bit of bad luck。 I'm sorry。' He turned the bacon。 'You think he's really after Raphael Tomkin？'
Nicholas nodded。
〃Then why these other killings？ None of the victims seem to have any connection with Tomkin。'
'They don't。 At least； not as far as I can tell。'
'Then what's he up to？ He could have been in and out half a dozen times by now。'
'I've thought about that。' Nicholas glanced down at his juice as if he might find answers there。 'For one thing； it's not so easy to get to Tomkin。 That kind of penetration takes time。'
'All the more reason for him to keep a low profile。 They don't like the limelight。' He lifted out the bacon； started on the eggs。
'Normally that's true；' Nicholas agreed。 'But this man's different。 He's shrewder than most。 Look； he's going up against a man who's been a target three or four times before。 There arc good reasons why Tomkin is still alive。 The ninja figures a simple penetration won't do it。 Something a bit more plex is called for。 You know how they are。 He'll have to go in himself。 There'll be no remote…control gadgets； he won't use the long gun。'
'I know。' The kitchen was filled with the smell of the food。 Doc Deerforth got out the bread； gave it to Nicholas to toast。
'All right。 The idea is to confuse the enemy。 It's an ancient form of strategy in kendo and on the battlefield。 Use different forms of attacks； attack from different sides。 While your enemy is wondering what you're up to； you attack decisively and he's defeated。〃
Doc Deerforth eyed Nicholas as he brought the plates over to the table。 'And you think this is what the ninja is doing？'
'It seems logical； yes。'
Doc Deerforth began to eat； frowning in concentration。 'You've thought of other possibilities； naturally；' he said after a while。
Nicholas looked up。 'What other possibilities？'
'I don't know。 But they're devious bastards。 I could never pretend to know what was in their minds。'
Nicholas looked away for a moment。 'I knew several in Japan。'
Doc Deerforth's eyes blazed briefly。 'Did you？'
'That was years ago。'
'Time doesn't mean anything to them。' Nicholas knew he was talking about his own experience。 He put down his fork； said nothing。 'They're not human；' Doc Deerforth said after a time。 It was so quiet between the words that Nicholas could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall。 'At least； there's something quite inhuman about them … as if they were vampires or something。 Something supernatural。' His eyes had turned inwards as he strung out the banner of his memory。
'Our war；' he continued； 'was quite different from any other； from what it was elsewhere。 Where we were； it was never a matter of panies taking a ridge and holding it in the face of an enemy counter…offensive。 There were no front lines； separate territories； retreats or attacks。 There was only a kind of holding on。 A desperate stubbornness against this terrible fluidity which brought you to the front in the morning and behind the enemy at sunset without having moved at all during the day。
'We were never quite sure just where the enemy was。 Specific orders were sporadic at best and； when they came； it seemed clear to us that the generals had no idea of the actual situation。 We lived in a kind of loosely controlled state of anarchy。 It was our only protection from the panic which continually besieged us。
'The time I'm telling you about was late in the war。 Almost all of us had been in the Pacific Theatre from the beginning。 Many of us were in no condition to fight。 Malaria； amoebic dysentery； those and other diseases I had never encountered before were what we lived with。 But； after a while； we began to fear even the cholera less than the nights。
'The nights brought the infiltrations； silent and lethal。 We 'seemed incapable of stemming them。 We doubled the perimeter guard； began patrols of the pound itself。 Nothing helped。 The mander； in desperation； mounted a series of night patrols。 They shot at shadows or the calls of night birds。 They hit nothing and were； in turn； silently killed。
'These incidents built themselves eerily。 Then some idiot ？ mentioned Dracula。 He had a dog…eared copy of the Bram Stoker novel and it quickly made the rounds。 The fear magnified itself。 What else could you expect under such circumstances？ Man is notorious for inventing creatures to explain away the otherwise inexplicable。 It was something out of a Gothic horror novel。 Even now； with so much time in between； it doesn't seem like a joke。 We were used to fighting soldiers of flesh and blood； not shadows which melted away in the light。 If we could have caught just one； even … caught a glimpse …we'd have had some idea of what we were up against。
'Fear has an uncanny way of escalating。 We were none of us cowards。 We had all done our share of killing。 Even I … even I had been called