class saved for years or borrowed on their homes to purchase one,

so that they could proudly display it in their homes.

Don Kobayashi was well familiar with the House of Nihonto. He

owned a number of blades crafted by their master swordsmiths.

The sword possessed added significance to the members of the

Yakuza. To them, it was more than an aesthetic symbol, a work of

art. It was also a totem of their power and, sometimes, a tool of

their profession. Each and every one of them was a devoted student

of kendo and the elite soldiers of the Yakuza were like modern

samurai, proficient not only in the use of firearms, but also in the

martial arts, especially the way of the sword. The House of

Nihonto, therefore, was well known to all of them and it was with a

considerable amount of surprise that Don Kobayashi learned that

this was the place chosen by Morpheus for their meeting.

He had not quite known what to expect. He had been told he

would be contacted, but he had fully expected that contact to come

by phone. Morpheus was known for being immensely secretive. No

one of Kobayashi’s acquaintance had any idea who he really was or

what he looked like. But his reputation was well known in certain

international circles. He was the consummate assassin. A modern

ninja, it was said, in every sense of the word. He had never failed in

a contract and he was wanted by the law enforcement agencies of

almost every country in the world. Both the Bureau and the I. T. C.

had extensive dossiers on “hits” attributed to Morpheus, but not

even they had succeeded in running him to ground.

The original Morpheus, Kobayashi knew, was long dead. There

had been stories about Morpheus since before the time of his father.

Obviously, the tradition was being carried on by a successor.

Kobayashi wondered if it was a family business. The idea of a

dynasty of mysterious, professional assassins appealed to him.

From time to time, an imposter would appear, claiming to be

Morpheus, but the real Morpheus—whoever he or they might be at

any given time—had always been fiercely protective of his

reputation. Invariably, these imposters turned up dead, shot

between the eyes with a 10-mm semiautomatic.

For several years now there had been no word of Morpheus and it

was thought that the most recent holder of the name had either