through the floor-to-ceiling bay windows in the rooms. It was a

hotel catering primarily to well-heeled foreigners and businessmen

on large expense accounts. The atmosphere was subdued and

dignified, with the accent on service. Modred had reserved adjoining

suites, with connecting doors, on the top floor of the tower, with the

windows looking out over the Ginza and the harbor.

The hotel staff did not quite know what to make of their newly

arrived guests. Modred, elegantly dressed, as always, was no

surprise to them, but eyebrows were raised when they saw

Wyrdrune in his brown warlock’s cassock and running shoes, Kira

in her black leather jacket, skintight lycra breeches, and high boots,

and Billy, with his unusual haircut and renaissance punk clothes.

Try as he might, there was nothing Merlin could do to induce him

to change his appearance in any way. And jaws positively dropped

when they saw Broom. However, they were impressed with

Modred’s fluency in Japanese and if the elegant westerner chose to

travel with such an unusual entourage, that was certainly his

privilege. Besides, he was taking not one, but two of their most

expensive suites, so if there was any disapproval, the hotel staff did

not display it. Even Broom, which always found something to

complain about, could not fault the service or their

accommodations.

The first thing they did after settling in and washing up was to

order dinner sent up to their rooms. Modred also had them bring

some newspapers. When they arrived, he found what he was

looking for. The Ginza murders were prominently featured. There

had been another killing the previous night, bringing the total up to

ten.

Wyrdrune came in from the suite he shared with Kira. Billy was

sharing Modred’s suite and, with the exception of Modred, who had

changed into a black silk dressing gown, they had put on the cotton

kimonos supplied by the hotel. All but Billy, who had simply

changed back into his clothes. He was never without his

tatterdemalion, fringed, patchwork leather jacket, but at least he’d

taken off his fingerless leather gloves before sitting down to dinner.

“Gor‘, I’m starved, ” he said, attacking the food.

Modred glanced at him with amusement. “All the money we’ve