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still lodged in his sternum。〃 'There's no exit wound？'
'No。'
'The fall could have dislodged it。 Or the sea …'
'Or it was pulled free after the man fell。'
'What you're saying； Doc。。。' He paused and； pushing aside the photos； consulted a filled…out preprinted form。 〃This guy； Barry Braughm； an account executive at' … here he named Sam Goldman's advertising agency in New York … 'lived at three…oh…one East Sixty…third； was murdered。 But in this way？ For what reason？ He was out here alone。 No jealous wife or boyfriend。。。〃 He laughed。 'He's got a sister in Queens whom we've already contacted and interviewed。 We checked on his house on Dune Road。 Nada。 No sign of it being broken into or even that anything was taken。 His car was where he had driven it up and parked it in front of the house as secure as Fort Knox。 There's nothing to …'
'There's this；' Doc Deerforth said； knowing that； at last； he had e to the moment he had been dreading ever since he had discovered the puncture wound and； subsequently； had pulled the blood from the drowned man's heart。 It isn't possible； he kept telling himself； all the time his hands and eyes were running the tests that were confirming it； saying it over and over to himself like a litany against evil。 And he felt now rather out of himself； a dreamlike unreality that allowed him to sit in another part of this room and watch himself talking to Ray Florum just as if he were an actor in some film。
From outside there came the sound of a child's laughter； harsh and brittle in the night； transformed by some aural magic into an eerie； other…worldly sound； the mocking shrillness of the macaws' cries in the Philippine jungle。
'It's the poison；' he continued。… 'It's a very specific type。' He ran his palms down the sides of his trousers。 It had been a long time since he had felt his hands wet with sweat。 'I came across this particular pound when I was stationed overseas。〃
'During the war？' Florum said。 'But； good God； man； that's thirty…six years ago。 Do you mean to tell me …'
'I could not forget this poison； Ray； no matter how many years have passed。 A patrol went out one night。 Five men。 Only one returned and he just made it to the perimeter。 We'd heard no shots； nothing but the birds and the buzz of the insects 。。。 It was odd； that kind of stillness； almost creepy； we'd been fired upon by snipers all through the day and every day for about a week。' Doc Deerforth took a deep breath before plunging onwards。 Anyway； they brought me the man who'd e back。 He was a boy； really。 No more than nineteen。 He was still alive and I began to work on him。 I did everything I could； everything in and out of the book； but I was helpless。 He literally died before my eyes。〃
'Dying of this stuff？'
Doc Deerforth nodded bleakly。 'The same。'
'Do you want me to go？' Nicholas asked her。
'Yes；' Justine said。 'No。 I don't know。' She stood behind the couch； her fingers pulled distractedly at the tufted Haitian cotton。 'My God； but you confuse me。'
'I don't mean to；' he offered。
'Words don't mean anything。〃
He was quite startled to see that her face in profile seemed remarkably different； as if he were seeing her now from the perspective of a different age； some other life。 In this respect； she reminded him of Yukio。 Of course with Yukio he had always imagined it to be the diverse mixture of her heritage； shrouded in some mysterious world to which he did not belong and to which he had brought but the insight of an alien。 That； he knew now； had been a purely Westernized response to what was； quite obviously； inexplicable and it somehow confounded him that here； in the West； it should strike him so differently。 Perhaps it was but the passage of time … a certain distancing from the anguish … which enabled him at last to see Yukio for what she really was； to him and to those around him。 It was； he thought； the space he had gained from all the ramified； ritualized patterns of his life in Japan； which allowed him to realize the mistakes he had mitted； to understand the role of his participation in it all。
Justine stirred on the other side of the couch； as far from him as if she were in another country； and he smelled her fragrance。
'It's late；' she said。 But it made no sense； was meant； he supposed； to fill a void that was being too threatening for her。
Bur this kind of inner tension was one of the things that most intrigued him about her。 Oh yes； she was extraordinarily beautiful in his eyes； if he had passed her on a busy Manhattan street； he would surely have turned his head； even； perhaps； followed her into Bendel's or Botticelli before he lost her in a swelling crowd； what else does he do with that kind of fantasy？ When one followed them up； one was invariably disappointed。 Then she would have been on his mind for an hour or so。 But so what？ Physical beauty； he had learned quite early； was the arbiter of nothing； could even be a dangerous and bloody thing。 More than anything else； he needed a challenge； with women as much as with all the interests in his life。 For he felt quite deeply that nothing in life was worth possessing without a struggle … even love； especially love。 This too he had learned in Japan； where women were like flowers one had to unfold like origami； with infinite care and deliberateness finding that； when fully opened； they were filled with exquisite tenderness and devious violence。
Just the creamy splash of the surf now； the record gathering dust on the immobile turn…table。 There came the cry of a gull； lonely and querulous as if it had somehow lost its way。
He wondered what he had to do； whether he really wanted to do anything。 After all； there was fear inside him； too。
'Have you been with many women？' she asked abruptly。 He saw that her arms； as rigid as pillars； were trembling and that she had brought her head up with an effort。 She stared at him； daring him to deride her or； perhaps； revile her； confirming her suspicions of him and； more generally； of men。
'That's an odd question to ask。'
She turned her head slightly and he saw the warm lamplight define the bridge of her nose； slide down into the hollow beneath one eye； at the crest of her neck。 The crimson motes were like points of burnished brass； the right side of her face was entirely in shadow。 'Will you answer it？'
He smiled。 'Some that I've not cared about。 Few that I have。〃
And all the while she watched his eyes for any hint that he might be mocking her。 She found none。
'What is it you wish to know； Justine？' he said softly。 'Are you afraid I won't tell you？〃
'No。' She shook her head。 'I'm afraid that you will。' Her nails plucked at the nubs of cotton as a musician fingers the strings of a harp。 'I want to and I don't want to；' she said after a while。
He was about to say； with a smile； that it wasn't so serious but he realized that it was； he knew what she was talking about。 He came around the end of the sofa； stood by her。 'It's only me； Justine；' he said； 'who's here。 There's only the two of us。'
'I know。' But it was not enough because she had said it like a little girl who did not quite believe what she was saying； wanting only some outside reassurance for an important inner act。
She broke away from this tight orbit； perhaps feeling the increasing magnetism beginning to influence the balance； and went across the room to stand in front of the large window。 The outside lights were still on； and beyond the porch and the fluttering pitiful moths the sea broke endlessly onto the shore； the sand now as dark as coal。
'You know； for some reason this view reminds me of San Francisco。'
'When were you there？' he asked； ing round and sitting on one arm of the sofa。
'About two years ago； I guess。 I was there for eighteen months； almost。'
'Why'd you leave？'
'I … broke up with someone。 Came back here。 Returned to the East； the prodigal daughter； into the bosom of her family。' For some reason that struck her as funny； but the laugh seemed to strangle and die in her throat。
'You loved the city。'
'Yes；' she said。 'Yes； I did that。 Very much。〃
'Then why leave it？'
'I … had to。' She lifted her slim hand； then looked at it； surprised that it was in that position。 'I was a different person then。 Not at all secure。' She clasped her hands in front of her； arms extended downwards。 'I was so vulnerable。 I felt … I guess I felt that I couldn't stay there by myself。 There was a kind of wind sailing through me。' As if it were an afterthought； she said； 'It was a stupid situation。 / was stupid。' She shook her head as if she still could not believe how she had acted。
'I've been there twice；' Nicholas said。 'San Francisco； I mean。 I fell in love with it。 Its size； its whiteness viewed from Mill Valley。' He was watching the thin line of phosphorescence； almost transparent； that marked the rise of the surf and its subsequent fall to earth； ing in； ing in。 'I used to go down to the shore just to watch the Pacific and think： Here are these waves rolling in； rolling all the way across the world from Japan。'
'Why did you leave？' she asked。 'What made you e here？'
He took a deep breath。 'That's difficult to sum up in words。 I suppose it was an aggregate of many things； a slow accretion。 My father； you know； he wanted to e to America。 He loved Japan。 Fought for it； always。 He might have e here himself but … it wasn't his karma； I suppose。 It was something he regretted。' The spume was like silver lace far away … out there on the bosom of the sea。 'If there is a part of him within me； then he's here now and that makes me feel all right。'
'Do you really believe that？ Life after …'
He smiled。 'Oh yes。 Oh no。 I cannot tell you truthfully。 East meets West inside me like swirling currents and there is a kind of tug of war。 But about my father； my mother。 They are with me； yes。'
'It seems so odd …'
'Only because we are here； standing on a porch in West Bay Bridge。 If we were in Asia。。。' He shrugged as if this explanation were sufficient。 'And； too； I came here to prove to myself that I could be a Westerner as well as an Easterner。 I majored in mass munications at college； launched into the atom age。 Advertising seemed a logical choice once I came here and I was lucky enough to find someone who was willing to take a chance on me as a raw trainee。' He laughed。 'It turned out I was a natural。'
She turned her body sideways to the surf； facing him fully。 She came and stood next to him。 Her long hair swirled； a link； they had not touched。 'Do you want me？' she whispered like the tide。 'Do you want to make love to me？'
'Yes；' he said； watching her eyes； their expanded pupils darkening the green to black。 He felt a tightening in his stomach； no longer quite certain of his own ghosts； feeling a filament of fear； a feather brushing the base of his spine。 'Do you want to make love to me？〃
She said nothing； he felt the nearness of her hand rather than saw it； mesmerized by her eyes； the glowing motes…e people nets。 He felt its heat； then the tips of her fingers touching the skin of his biceps； curled around the muscles there； firmly but without squeezing； and it seemed to him that the simple gesture municated so much that it was as if she had never done it before； that it had never been done to him before in just that way。 And that first contact was so electrically tender that he felt the muscles of his thighs trembling； a sighing in his heart begin。
He wrapped her slowly in his arms and he was quite certain she cried out； a tiny burst of erotic emotion； 'Oh I' the abandoned ardour of the music； just before his lips covered hers。 Immediately her mouth opened under his and he felt the length of her body pressing against his； building heat at the fulcra of breasts； belly and the juncture of her thighs。
How hot she seemed as his lips caressed her long neck； tracing the rounded edge of her collarbone。 His hands pulled at her shirt。 Her lips were at his ear； her tongue circling； circling like that last hungry gull above the night…dark beach； and she whispered； 'Not here。 Not here。 Please …'
Lifting her arms and the shirt came off； his fingers stroked her spine； the deep long indentation。 She shivered and moaned as he licked under her arms； moving slowly to her full breasts； the nipples