seemed, was true. And each of them said unequivocally that if there

was anything that they could do to provide Fugisawa or “Mr.

Cornwall” with assis-tance, that he was not to hesitate to call, at

any time of day or night.

Fugisawa had been shaken when he had completed the calls. And

then the remote pager that he carried when he was off duty

sounded and he called in to discover that the killer had struck

again. Two victims this time. Another hooker. And one man who

had been identified as a member of the Yakuza. There had also

been a message for him. His uncle had called.

Now, as he sat at the bar of the Paradise Club, his mind was in a

turmoil. As a cop, he had always played mostly by the rules, but all

the rules suddenly seemed to have changed. He was having secret

meetings with a Yakuza don. And he was now cooperating with the

world’s most wanted professional assassin. Who happened to be

about two thousand years old and had retired to hunt immortal

necromancers. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought he

was a character in some weird fantasy novel.

“Excuse me, sir, ” said a nattily dressed man whose well-cut suit

didn’t quite hide the bulge of his shoulder holster, “your uncle will

see you now.”

Fugisawa got up and followed the man. They went around behind

the dance floor and through a door marked “Private, ” which had a

bouncer stationed in front of it. The two men nodded at each other

and they went through. The moment the door closed behind them,

all noise from the club was immedi-ately cut off. They walked down

a short, carpeted corridor to a door at the other end. The door was

marked, “Manager. ” The man leading Fugisawa paused at the door

and knocked. It was opened from the inside and he stood aside to let

Fugisawa enter.

It was a quiet, well-appointed office, very modern furnishings,

wet bar, carpeting, dark-stained oak desk, and a bank of video

monitors. There were, apparently, surveillance cameras placed all

around the inside of the club. The screens all showed different

views of the bar, the dance floors, the front entrance, the booths

and tables, and even the hallway outside the rest rooms. Don

Kobayashi was sitting behind the desk in a high-backed leather