HOW did we meet," DL's voice finding some agitated1 soprano level. "Well! Through Ralph Wayvone, really. I had been spending years and years of my life with these fantasies of taking revenge on Brock Vond. I wanted to kill him — one way or another he'd taken away the lives of people I loved, and I saw nothing wrong with killing2 him. I was that off-center, it afflicted3 me, wrecked5 my judgment6." At first she'd thought Ralph was some kind of groupie. She'd noticed him, among the spectators, always wearing a suit. He finally approached her in a coffee shop in Eugene, where she had been staring dejectedly, apparently7 for some time, at a plate with four rubber scampi, rushed in fresh from the joke store down the street and covered as completely as possible with tomato sauce. She became aware of Ralph, looming8 over her food and glaring at it. "How can you eat that?" "Just what I ask myself. Anything else?" Her visitor sat down across the table, clicked open an armored attache case, and produced a folder9 with an 8 x 10 of a face she knew, a Fresson-process studio photograph of Brock Vond, looking like he'd just had a buffer10 run all over him, the high smooth forehead, the cheeks that still hadn't lost all their baby fat, the sleek11 and pointed12 ears, small chin, and slim little unbroken nose. This photo was clipped to some stapled13 pages, where she saw federal seals and stampings. "It's all from the FBI. Perfectly14 legit." He glanced at some ultrathin expensive wristwatch. "Look — you want him . . . we want him . . . say yes, both our wishes will come true."
She'd already checked out the cut and surface texture15 of Ralph's suit. "Well," she inquired, "what's ol' Brock up to these days?"
"Same public servant he always was, only bigger. Much, much bigger. He figures he won his war against the lefties, now he sees his future in the war against drugs. Some dear friends of mine are quite naturally upset."
"And he's too big for them? Please, you've got to be rilly desperate, comin' to me."
"No. You've got the motivation." At her look, "We know your history, it's all on the computer."
She thought of the white armored limo at Inoshiro Sensei's house, long ago. "Then you know how personal this is. If you want real ninja product, that could get in the way. ... I assume you're buying skills and not just feelings here?"
"Buy, sure, but how about give? The one thing you truly want, huh? A good crack at a evil man? I know 'cause I see it in your eyes."
She didn't exactly shift her eyes away, didn't react much to this lowlife flirtatiousness, either, but there it was — he had her number, and it looked like he'd gotten it from the FBI. What was going on here? Did Ralph have a line into their NCIC computer? If they knew Brock was a target of Ralph's friends, why fail to protect one of their own? Unless of course the unfortunate setupee here was more likely DL herself, attempted assassination19 of a federal officer, some time in the Bureau of Prisons' mindfucking system perhaps. . . .
Ralph Wayvone, master of telepathic anxieties, tried to be helpful. "They wouldn't need any fancy excuse, Miss Chastain, they just go in, get anybody they want, do the paperwork later — what, you ain't figured that one out yet? I'd known you was such a little kid I'd o' brought yiz a Barbie doll."
"Yeah but why me? Thought you folks were more into pistols, dirks, car bombs, 'at sort of thing."
"I have heard," Ralph almost misty-eyed, "there's this touch that you can put on somebody, so lightly they don't feel it then, but a year later they drop dead, right when you happen to be miles away eating ribs20 with the Chief of Police."
"That would be the Vibrating Palm, or Ninja Death Touch." She went on to explain, in tones carefully free of exasperation22, about the procedure, and how serious a matter it was. You didn't, for example, just go around putting it on people you didn't like. It was useless without a long history of training in martial23 disciplines, took years to master, and when used was a profoundly moral act. But at some point she realized she was also pitching herself to him. So did he. Patting her hand, "You're telling me I don't have to worry."
"In my time, Mr. Wayvone, I was the best."
"I remember," he said, instead of "So they tell me," but she didn't catch it. He'd heard about her in fact years before on the YakMaf grapevine, early dojo rumors25, something extraordinary said to be happening at a certain regional elimination26 meet. So he'd driven across the Mojave all night one night to see her in action. From a dank cement arena27 her hair had blazed at him like the halo of an angel of mischief28. In the Rolodex of Ralph's memory, young DL would be flagged that brightly. He was actually then to follow her for a time, meet to meet through the South and West, along a circuit of grim, early ex-Nam faces, motels always miles from the venue30 and down the wrong freeway, shoptalk, drinking, possession of weapons, T-shirts featuring skulls31, snakes, and dangerous transportation. Ralph never thought of the look on his face as the helpless stare of an older man through a schoolyard fence, but as more the alert beaming of a micromanager. And sometimes he was right. In DL's case, the time he'd invested had yielded him a file he knew he'd make use of one day, and so it had come to pass.
He'd presented DL, however, with a crisis. She knew she'd been slowly poisoning her spirit, drifting further into her obsession32 with Brock Vond. Here was Ralph, promising33 resolution and release. What was she complaining about? Only that acts, deeply moral and otherwise, had consequences — only the workings of karma. One unfelt touch to the correct piece of Vond anatomy34 could commit her to a major redirection of her life. There was no question that she'd ever be free of Ralph. A girl did one Death Touch job and right away people started getting ideas. Whatever she chose to do would get her in trouble. She promised to give him her decision at dinner the next evening, and then she got the hell out of town, leaving the last of Ralph's tails near Drain, Oregon, beside a late-model Oldsmobile with steam pouring from beneath its hood35.
She had to switch cars again before she got to L.A., then took the bus out to a bank branch on mid-Wilshire where she had once providentially stashed36 a packet of documents that would now give her a choice among identities, paid cash on Western Avenue for a '66 Plymouth Fury, bought a wig37 at a place across the street, went into a certain ladies' gas-station toilet on Olympic legendary38 in the dopers' community, and emerged a different, less noticeable person. The car radio, tuned39 to KFWB, was playing the Doors' "People Are Strange (When You're a Stranger)" as she injected herself into the slow lane of the eastbound freeway and settled in, hating to let any of it go, Banning, the dinosaurs40, the Palm Springs turnoff, Indio, across the Mojave, to be redreamed in colors pale but intense, with unnaturally41 fine sand blowing in plumes42 across the sun, baby-blue shadows in the folds of the dunes43, a pinkish sky — holding on, letting go, redreaming each night stop the less easterly places she'd been in all day, coming slowly unstuck, leaving for the United States, trying not to get emotional but still hanging on the rearview mirror's single tale of recedings and vanishing points as we hang on looks our lovers give.
On inertial navigation, knowing she'd know what she was looking for when she found it, DL didn't stop till the outskirts44 of Columbus, Ohio, which she first beheld45 around midday in a stunning46 onslaught of smog and traffic. By this time she was used to the car and its unorthodox push-button shifting, having made the analysis "stick shift — penis" and speculating that a push-button automatic might at least appear more clitorally ladylike, or, as DL might've put it, regressive, if there'd been anybody anymore to talk to, which of course there wasn't. She took a little apartment and found a job at a vacuum cleaner parts distributor's, typing and filing.
Columbus must have promised a life that some residual47 self, somewhere in the stifling48 dark, had wanted always. "Superman could change back into Clark Kent," she had once confided49 to Frenesi, "don't underestimate it. Workin' at the Daily Planet was the Man o' Steel's Hawaiian vacation, his Saturday night in town, his marijuana and his opium50 smoke, and oh what I wouldn't give. ..." An evening newspaper . . . anyplace back in the Midwest . . . she would leave work around press time, make a beeline for some walk-down lounge, near enough to the paper that she could feel vibrations51 from the presses through the wood of the bar. Drink rye, wipe her glasses on her tie, leave her hat on indoors, gossip in the dim light with the other regulars. In the winter it would already be dark outside the windows. The polished shoes would pick up highlights as the street lamps got brighter ... she wouldn't be waiting for anybody or for anything to happen, because she'd only be Clark Kent. Lois Lane might not give her the time of day anymore, but that'd be OK, she'd be dating somebody from the secretarial pool. They'd go out for dinner sometimes to this cozy52 Neapolitan joint53 down by some lakefront, where the Mussels Posillipo couldn't be beat. "So instead of being able to fly everyplace," her friend had replied, "you'd have to climb into some car you're still making payments on, drive on out, you, Clark Kent, to the scene of some disaster, blood, corpses54, flies, teen technicians wandering around stoned, eyewitnesses55 in shock. . . . Superman never has to get involved with any of that. Why should anybody want to be only mortal? Better to stay an angel, angel." DL, more generous in those days, only thought her friend had missed the point.
In Columbus she spent days in shopping centers, Ninja Steno, assembling an invisibility wardrobe — murky56 woolens57, dim pastels, flat shoes with matching purses, beige hose, white underwear, surprised how little of a chore it was — the blandest58 of accessories would call out to her from shop windows, the misses' sections of discount stores were acres of abundance waiting to be picked through. She had by now grown into a relationship with the Plymouth, named her Felicia, bought her a new stereo, was washing her at least twice per workweek plus again on weekends, when she also waxed the vehicle. She swam and did t'ai chi and continued to practice the exercises she had learned in Japan. She grew used to her disguised image in the mirror, the short haircut with the rodent-brown rinse59, the freckles60 subdued61 under foundation, the eye makeup62 she'd never have worn before, slowly becoming her alias63, a small-town spinster pursuing a perfectly diminished life, a minor64 belle65 gone to weeds and gophers before her time.
So that when they came and kidnapped her in the Pizza Hut parking lot and took her back to Japan, she wasn't sure right away that being sold into white slavery would turn out to be at all beneficial as a career step. They took her with a matter-of-factness that made her feel like an amateur. Her little car was left alone in its space, sometimes, across miles and years, to call out to her in a puzzled voice, asking why she hadn't come back. She fought, but whoever it was had sent experts that specialized66 in not damaging young women. The story she heard eventually was that a certain client would pay a fee in the hefty-to-whopping range for an American blonde with advanced asskicking skills. "No telling what's going to turn men on," whispered her bunkmate Lobelia as they waited in a hotel in Ueno to be brought to auction67, " 'specially68 the ones we're gonna meet."
Dense69 transport and travel clamored all day, all night long. The rickety hotel, almost a disposable building, was pressed shuddering70 between the Yamanote Line and Expressway 1. The girls ate yaki-tori from the carts on Showa and were permitted out, in supervised groups, only to shop at the pitches under the tracks. Some of these girls, the market being what it was, were boys, of whom DL's friend Lobelia was among the most glamorous71. "Wow," she had introduced herself, "are you a mess," launching then unbidden into a verbal hair-to-toenails makeover for DL, who at some point ducked her head, murmuring, "Guess I should be writing some of this down."
Lobelia paused and blinked. "Sugar, I'm trying to help. Think about it — you'll be up there on the block, how are you gonna feel if all they sell you for's a dollar ninety-eight?"
"Pretty cheap."
"Exactly, which is why I'm saying you need the purple liner, and at least three different eyeshadows, trust me, I know what these customers like, and right now honey, I don't mean to be cruel, but —"
So when the big night came, DL went to her purchasers wearing a painting of yet another face she could hardly recognize as one of hers. The room seethed73 with odors of drinking, smoke, cologne. Koto and samisen music came from hidden speakers. Hostesses tiptoed, knelt, fetched, and poured. Outside, wind was beating on sheet metal, city traffic circulated in humid fricatives, neon colors, some of them unknown outside Tokyo, turned the streets to a high-gloss display of transgression74 and desire. But in here, light-tight behind rubberized drapes, the auction room kept its colors to itself, with a crew of moonlighting studio gaffers beaming merciful salmons76 and pinks at the girls in their eye-catching outfits78, each chosen earlier from a giant walk-in, in fact drive-in, closet filled with every kind of getup any customer who'd passed through here'd ever found erotic, schoolgirl uniforms tonight being the big favorite, some enhancing an already youthful look, others worn for the less forthright79 nuances that make grown women in juvenile80 attire81 so widely irresistible82, much attention being paid of course to details like school crests83, belt styles, underwear, and pleats, for any all-but-invisible discrepancy84 here could easily wreck4 a sale. "Girl, you have never seen picky," as Lobelia put it, "till you've been in one of these Jap meat shows."
Though a few women had come to bid, the audience was nearly all male. The auctioneer was a popular television comedian85. Older gentlemen with fingertip deficiencies could be noted86 circulating in the crowd, attentive87 as geishas, although to other signals. Prospective88 buyers chatted softly, paged through catalogues, scribbled89 on notepads. Out in the bar a baseball game was on, Central League playoffs, and a few guests had lingered till the traditional 8:56, when the transmission from the ballpark was abruptly90 cut off, in the middle of a double play, in fact. In commotion91, voicing their displeasure, the last stragglers entered the room in a cloud of ambiguous smoke, the heavy jade-inlaid doors swung shut and were locked, the houselights were dimmed, the music track segued to romantic disco, the comic took the mike, and the auction was on.
Each girl had a number pinned to her outfit77. When it was called, she had to step into a spotlight92 and do a basic tits-and-ass17 or beauty-pageant93 turn. The girl just before DL came from a high valley in northern Thailand, bartered95 as part of a heroin96 deal, dolled up tonight in black chiffon and mink97 eyelashes, about to enter a world where she would never again meet anyone who had ever heard of the place she'd been born in and taken from. She was sold for a million yen98 and slipped from kinder theatrical99 lighting75 down into the dark to join her new owner, feeling something warm but unyielding, like padded steel, slide around her neck, around one wrist... no one spoke100 to her. No one would, for days.
DL, remembering beauty-contest interviews back on the childhood Tube, thought Just relax and have fun, picked up the beat, and stepped out into the warm fall of light to let everybody have a look. The minute she appeared she could hear altered breathing and interjections in a number of tongues, but was oddly aware herself only of one electrician, poised101 silent near a small fill light. . . just out of her field of vision, his smoky and blurred102 presence more real to her than any bidder103 in the room, any future master. . . . How could that be? Relax, have fun. She smiled even with her eyes, Lobelia's eyes, alert now at nipples and clitoris, the price being bid upward deliriously104. Suddenly she heard a new voice. Others may have recognized it too. There were no more bids. The hammer fell, she left the light, blind for an instant, adrift on treacherous105 runway in high heels, but then feeling the hand take her arm firmly as shackles106 and steer108 her instead off into the wings. . . .
When she could see, moving quickly into the chill of outdoors, into an alley94 where a long American automobile109 waited, she turned to have a look at her purchaser. Shades, black and white outfit, inches shorter but — she already knew by touch — faster and better. "Relax, lady," he warbled pleasantly. "I'm only the agent here." He opened a rear door. In a slither of tulle, she ducked and curled, alone, into the back seat. The man disappeared up front, doors latched110 solidly, and off she was driven into neon confusion. Waiting for her on the seat were fresh flowers — orchids112. She lifted her chin. As a girl she had missed every single dance, including school proms, and this happened in fact to be her very first orchid111 corsage in her life.
Tonight's blind date turned out to be none other than Ralph Wayvone, who had a suite113 at the Imperial. They eyed each other across a spacious114 sitting room. She'd slid off her shoes first thing and now flexed115 her toes in the deep carpet. "You're pissed off, huh," she ventured.
Ralph was pouring champagne116. He turned, holding the two glasses, and DL noticed changes in his packaging. His suit fit like Cary Grant's, he appeared to have shaved sometime in the last hour, and he was wearing a pink tropical blossom in his lapel. He still smelled, however, like the far end of a men's toiletries section in a drugstore, and his haircut had been performed by someone who must have been trying to give up smoking.
A lightning storm had appeared far out at sea and now, behind them out the window, was advancing on the city, taking brightly crazed shots all along the horizon. Somewhere in here a stereo began to play a stack of albums from the fifties, all in that sweet intense mainstream117 wherein the tenor118 drowns of love, or, as it is known elsewhere, male adolescence119.
"Couldint believe it was you," handing her the fluteful of champagne, beaded in the humid night, his voice slow, almost dazed. She twirled for him, as she had just before he'd bought her, and drank champagne.
"You sure paid a lot."
"Annual event, goes in a pension fund."
"Oh — you only pretended to buy me."
"Not exactly. Let's say you're here till you can get away again."
"You still want Brock Vond."
"Now more than ever." He had his lower lip out, trying to look sinned against.
"Please — I just needed a vacation from my life. You never heard of that?"
"Should I be reprimanding my intelligence people? Are they giving me faulty data on you? It don't sound to me like you're really all that hungry to get this little fuck. Like you've —" she was expecting "lost your nerve," but he thoughtfully went for "changed your attitude," instead.
She met his look. "Long as you're here in town, why not talk to some talent scouts120, I'm not the only one knows 'is particular Oriental trick, you know."
"But you are the one who can execute." Tony Bennett had been singing "The Boulevard of Broken Dreams." Ralph touched her bare arm lightly. "Darryl Louise, think of who you are — mentioned in Black Belt before you were ten, the Soldier of Fortune interview, that centerfold in Aggro World, almost made runner-up in the Dangerous Teen Miss pageant in '63. . . ."
"Best I could do was Miss Animosity, why are you bringing up my rap sheet here?"
"All that great gift — you wanted to just escape it? Spend the rest of your life typin' up invoices121 and dodging122 the customer-service reps? I could cry."
"Could you. And would I have to deal with that?"
"Ahh, you cold cookie. ... I can take ya, but I'll never break ya." He put down his glass, held his arms open. "Come on, Black Belt. Dance with an old gentleman."
Ralph had shifted — she could feel it — into a fifties time warp123, and DL, once in his arms, found, surprised, that she could now think about her situation clearly for the first time since the Pizza Hut. Even putting champagne and orchids aside, here was the first human in her lifetime of running away who'd ever taken the trouble to come after her, not to mention publicly buy her, however much in play, for the sticker price of a Lamborghini plus options. How could a girl not be impressed? And as lagniappe she'd get the chance to ice detestable Brock Vond once and for all.
They drifted across the neutral carpeting, crooners crooned, and the storm came sweeping124 on. He was careful, mouth close to her ear, to speak only during instrumental breaks. "You might even get to like working for us. Our benefits package is the best in the field. You get to veto any assignment, we don't ask for weekly quotas125, but we do run a cash-flow assessment126 on each of you quarterly. . . ."
"What's this, then, your leisure outfit, where's 'em gold chains, 'at endangered-species hat?"
"Ufa, mi tratt' a pesci in faccia — my dear Miss Chastain, who'd ever try to run a lady such as you, with your independent ideas plus all those lethal127 talents, do I look that stupid?"
Well, the problem of course was that he didn't look quite stupid enough. Had a certain luminous128 shade of skin not balanced out the wrong-length sideburns, the tightly rationed129 smile not likewise made up for the no-eye-contact eyes, why she'd most likely've passed on the venture and had to arrive at other, less hopeful arrangements. But it came about, after a night and a day of jack-hammer sex, amphetamines, champagne, and Chaliapin Steaks ordered up from Les Saisons, that she was sped by Lincoln limo, semen drying on her stockings and one earring130 lost forever, through rainglare and wet streets to the notorious Haru no Depaato, or Department Store of Spring, installed in a room of her own, and handed a large clutch purse stuffed full of yen, for transitional expenses till she went officially on the payroll131.
"Your other clients," Ralph trying to be helpful, "they'll just be there for your cover, right?"
"Ralph, wow, I — I feel better already." In fact, she did, not because of the clients, who were no worse than expected, but because she was finally back getting some dojo time in, stretching, striking, working out with 'chuks and eagle catchers, meditating132, finding inside herself the way back to shelter she'd wondered more than once if she'd lost for good. Outside the establishment, in the street, to keep herself in the mood, she paid special attention to car collisions, ambulances in a hurry, even bowls of severed133 shrimp134 heads in the noodle shops, as she and Ralph Wayvone went nailing down the scenario136 for Brock's assassination.
"He'll be flying in for a two-week international prosecutors137' symposium138, staying at the Hilton. We have a schedule of his free time, unless he's also one of those mischievous139 lads who like to play hooky. You'll wait, you'll live by his schedule — sooner or later he'll show up, he's a regular here whenever he's passing through."
"But he'll ID me, he'll remember."
"Not the way you'll be."
Uh-huh, the way she'd be ... of all the jacking around she was getting, that makeover would prove to be the real shocker. Soon as the Depaato beautician staff got to work, the minute they brought out the wig she was to wear, dyed and styled precisely140, she knew. And when she saw it on, a shivering crept all over her skin, as she looked at her own face on Frenesi's head. "Mr. Brock Vond," the girls assured her, "likes American girl, looking just this way, always the same," the little sixties outfits, the lurid141 makeup of the time. . . . But I'll have to wear shades, she thought, he'll see my own pale eyes and it won't work, surely he'll want hers, those fluorescent142 blue eyes of Frenesi's. . .. And so he would, but that was all taken care of too — when the time came, DL would be wearing tinted143 contact lenses.
"I knew it!" Prairie exploded. "My mother and this creep, and you better tell me how serious, DL —"
"Serious."
"So my dad and my grandma've been lyin' to me all the time? They told me she was on the side of the people — how could she've ever gone near somebody like this Brock guy?"
"I never could figure it either, kid. He was everything we were supposed to be against." But the shock had been different for DL — it was in finding out that he loved Frenesi but did not possess her, and was driven to fetishism in faraway countries as his only outlet144, helpless to change — obsessed145, though it gagged her to admit it, as DL. And Ralph, the fucker, must have known the whole story all along. Was he getting off on this? What kind of a sense of humor was that, anyway? Sometimes, waiting in her room, she'd wonder if this was all supposed to be some penance146, to sit, caught inside the image of one she'd loved, been betrayed by, just sit. . . . Was it a koan she was meant to consider in depth, or was she finally lost in a great edge-to-edge delusion147, having only read about Frenesi Gates once in some dentist's waiting room or standing148 in line at the checkout149, whereupon something had just snapped and she'd gone on to make up the whole thing? And was now not in any Japanese whorehouse waiting to kill Brock Vond at all, but safely within a mental institution Stateside, humored, kindly150 allowed to dress up as the figure of her unhappy fantasies? For company while she waited she left the Tube on with the sound off. Images went rolling in and out of the frame as she sat, quiescent151, sometimes teasing herself with these what-is-reality exercises, but keeping always balanced, right on that line, attentively152 breathing herself through the turn of the hours, the rise and fall of the five elements and the body organs governed, the combinations, the dance of husband-wife and mother-son laws. Today, of course, you can pick up a dedicated153 hand-held Ninja Death Touch calculator in any drugstore, which will track, compute16, and project for you quick as a wink154, but back then DL had only her memory to rely on and what she'd learned from Inoshiro Sensei, obliged early, she and her brain, to enter a system of eternal repayment155 humming along with or without her existence. Sensei called it "the art of the dark meridians156," warning her repeatedly about the timing157. "Perfect blow to the correct alarm point, but at the wrong time — might as well stay home — watch a Run Run Shaw movie!" She asked if she could visit him. They said no.
Meanwhile, Takeshi Fumimota was in and out of Tokyo for reasons of business connected with the mysterious obliteration158 of a research complex belonging to the shadowy world conglomerate159 Chipco. About a week after Brock Vond's arrival, Takeshi was standing at the edge of a gigantic animal footprint which only the day before had been a laboratory. From an insurance point of view, the place was totaled, though free of fatalities160, the event having occurred precisely during an evacuation drill. Strange!
Looking through the dark morning drizzle161, Takeshi couldn't even see over to the other side of the foot-shaped crater162. From up here on the rim29, about all he could make out were the yellow headlamps of the tech squads163 moving far below, taking samples of everything, every last splinter, for testing. Here and there edges of the footprint had begun to slide in.
As Takeshi made his way cautiously down, he found a network of plastic duckboards and temporary traffic lights already in place. Traffic was heavy. He paused at a turnout, poured himself another cup from his coffee thermos164, and took another amphetamine capsule. "It's going to take a while," he chuckled165 aloud, drawing a stare or two, "to get to the bottom of this!" Another strange element, as his former mentor166 Professor Wawazume, eccentric CEO of Wawazume Life & Non-Life, had reminded him over the phone last night, was that recently Chipco had wanted a floater written in on an inland marine167 policy, against "damage from any and all forms of animal life." The demolished168 complex was located on a lightly traveled piece of coastline, and Chipco could certainly argue that something had come up out of the surf, put one foot in the sand for leverage169, and stomped170 on the lab with the other.
Since it had happened at low tide, any second print on the beach would have got washed away when the tide came back in. "Clearly reptilian," the Professor had summed up, "or possibly the work of a — disgruntled environmentalist!" Takeshi, by the time he got to see it from the air, didn't want to rule out another secular171 possibility — a professional job. There were some fancy blasters around, studio special-effects people, Yank veterans of Vietnam, few yakuza maybe — Takeshi knew most of the boys and girls, though it wasn't always easy to keep track, and the work could get pretty sophisticated. Size 20,000 here could be an artifact from heel to claw-tip.
Having begun well inside the corporate172 embrace of Wawazume Life & Non-Life, high above the violet radiance of the city, through ghostly Marunouchi dusks he had dreamed of disengagement and freedom, of working as a ronin, or samurai without a master, out free-lancing in a dangerous world. By the time his life brought him here, down in the reeking173 beast-print, the hazy174 red, green, and yellow lights and striped barricades175, the struggling in the mud and rain after a mystery that might at the end be only as simple as greed, become at least independent, though Professor Wawazume still kept sending a lot of business his way, no more corporate pin on his suit lapel, only the buttonhole unadorned, lordless, his one fixed176 address now a cubicle177 in outer Ueno he shared rent on, containing an armored file cabinet, a telephone, and the signed, framed photo of himself the Professor had given him when he left to go out on his own (an enlarged paparazzo shot, the Professor looking even more goofy than usual, lurching after a noted beauty in gold lame178, flip179 hairdo, and two-centimeter eyelashes outside a bar in Shinjuku, a lucent string of drool begun to descend180 from one corner of his mouth), Takeshi had already long been a nomad181 in the sky's desert, continuing to depart in kerosene182 fumes183 to seek another connection in another Pacific port, to nod to faces he had last seen coming out of the Yat Fat Building in Des V?ux Road, to check the body of the stewardess184 and what he could see out the window of the body of the airplane, and at last, when they began to lift, to commend himself to the gods of the sky. But despite his millions of passenger miles, he could never recall being in their domain185, instead only groaning186, laboring187 along, just above the webs of power lines, almost sharing expressway space, making unnumbered short hops135 between local airfields188, places Takeshi had never heard of, invisible under industrial smoke and traffic exhaust, kept away from all promises of wild blue yonder.
He had arrived now at the bottom of the strange crater, far below sea level, after long detours189 and a sense of time forever lost. . . . Tech-squad people he'd tried to talk to had all, so far, been evasive. I knew it! he realized. I haven't been buying enough drinks! The rain clouds had settled in. Looking up, Takeshi could no longer see the rim he'd descended190 from. A group of Techs nearby had started shouting angrily at each other, their headlamp beams swooping191 and crossing. Takeshi recognized his acquaintance Minoru, a government bomb-squad expert. Not a genius, exactly, more like an idiot savant with X-ray vision. When the discussion moved on, Minoru remained, gazing at something cupped in his hands.
"Pretty strange today, Minoru-san!" "Strange! Here, look at this!" Familiar. "Eastern bloc72, ne?"
"?. But now — watch!" Minoru rotated the fragment. "Hen na!" But he allowed Minoru to ID the modification192. "South African!" "Motto hen na!"
Finally Minoru waved and started away. "Never been in a hole like this one. Don't like it!"
"Let's go have drinks!" Takeshi called after him. Whatever Minoru may have replied was lost in a sudden down-rush of noise, a terrific roaring quite close by in the mist. Everyone Takeshi could see stood or crouched193, looking up, not really poised to flee — where in this mud deathtrap was there to go? — but relaxing helpless under some imminent194 unthinkable descent.. . and what was it, appearing out of the cloud cover, causing a reflex wave of oh's to sweep the paralyzed onlookers195 . . . what was this glistening196 surface of black scales, dripping with seawater and kelp, these giant talons197, curving earthward?
"It's come back!" People began to scream and run. Others, producing cameras, tried to photograph the confusion, or angrily waved radiation meters and microphones at the approaching object. By the time Takeshi could even react, the mysterious visitor, smaller than at first supposed, had angled over toward a makeshift landing pad, where it turned out to be one of Chipco's fleet of customized jumbo passenger helicopters, whose underside its crew, a byword of practical jokery throughout the firm, had playfully disguised, with plastic sheet and fairings of appropriate textures198, as a monster's sole. Everybody had been fooled!
The helicopter had come to evacuate199 everybody from the hole, immediately, according to an announcement over its speakers. Was this another joke? "Who cares?" Takeshi muttered out loud, "I'm ready! Enough work for one day!"
"I heard that," said Minoru, climbing on board with him. "Were you serious — about those drinks?"
"Sure." He had something on his mind — what was it? "Think we can get — Singapore Slings200?" As they took off, rising up the mud cliffsides crumbling201 away now in dark roaring collapses202, Takeshi remembered his car, still at the parking lot. Could he go to the rental203 company and plead force majeure yet again, thin as the excuse was by now? They ascended204 into deep clouds and flew in zero visibility for what could have been an hour or more. Passengers, mostly Techs and military, read tabloids205 and comic magazines, listened through earphones to pocket radios, played cards or go. Takeshi and Minoru headed aft to a small bar with a price list that made up in exorbitance206 for what it lacked in variety. There were no Singapore Slings, so they drank beer instead. As empties accumulated, rotor-throbbed into vibrations along the bar, Minoru grew more cryptic207 and sly. "I like it up here . . . it's like a toilet for me — a final, private space." "Ah —you fly a lot?"
"Business — much of it offshore208 these days. Last year I was in the sky — more than I was on the ground!"
Takeshi reminded himself that whenever his companion wasn't actually trying to take apart strange bombs in person, he was irrevocably ordering someone else to.
"We haven't flown together," Minoru went on, beaming maliciously209, "since Lhasa International, good old LHX!" "Aw. Knew you'd bring that one up."
"Been on my mind — especially today! Maybe you can guess why!"
The helicopter came out into midafternoon sunlight. They were flying over some vast yellow-gray industrial reservation full of buildings whose only purpose was to shield the activities inside from viewers overhead. There were also areas set aside as parkland, and what looked like shopping and amusement centers. The PA came on. "We are approaching the famous Chipco 'Technology City,' home of 'Chuck,' the world's most invisible robot." Takeshi and Minoru tried to order two more beers, but the bar was closing. "How invisible," the voice continued, "you might wonder, is 'Chuck'? Well, he's been walking around among you, all through this whole flight! Yes, and now he could be right next to you — o-or you!" They began to descend, signs came on, Minoru sighed. "I'd rather stay up there!" The PA had begun to recite train information. Chipco had its own stop on the Tokaido Shinkansen, from which it would be a little under three hours to Tokyo.
On the train they got back to the Himalayan caper211. There were similarities — assault on the inanimate, the Czech origins of both the initiator unit and the explosive, Semtex . . . and the dummy212 motive213.
"So," Takeshi said, "you don't think this was self-inflicted."
"Who wrote the floater?"
"Professor Wawazume himself." Same as the Himalayan incident. They looked at each other, the two weary old hands, feeling as usual like jungle indigenous214 going in after a firefight to scavenge brass215 for pennies a ton. Far above them some planetwide struggle had been going on for years, power accumulating, lives worth less, personnel changing, still governed by the rules of gang war and blood feud216, though it had far outgrown217 them in scale. Chipco was in it up to their eyeballs, and it looked like the Professor might have been fading some of the action. Nothing surprised either Takeshi or Minoru by now about the game, in which the everyday pieces were pirate ships of the stratosphere and Himalayas held for ransom218.
"Those Himalayas!" Takeshi reminisced. "Right at the worst part, that sudden blizzard219 sweeping in —"
"— and we'd lost our way — everything white! Couldn't find the pass! The seconds were — ticking down!"
"Your wristwatch — with the turquoise220 numbers — only thing in the storm anybody can see! The bomber221 is already back in Geneva — with a perfect alibi222! Suddenly — who do we run into, in that little shack107 — at the edge of infinity223 . . . literally224!"
"Kutsushita-san!" Both men collapsed225 in laughter. "Everybody thought he'd drunk himself to death —"
"Instead he'd gone off to Tibet — to save his soul!"
"My first nuke assignment," Minoru recalled, after they'd finished laughing.
Takeshi nodded. "We called you — the Kid!" They had a nice spin in the time machine, but arrived at Tokyo Station with nothing about the present case any clearer. Minoru headed for a public phone while Takeshi waited, reaching for his Georgian silver snuffbox, where the shabu were. Minoru, growing agitated, made another call, hung up suddenly, and, with white now visible all the way around the irises226 of his eyeballs, came after Takeshi, who got ready to run the other way.
"Somebody we have to see! Right now! It could already be too late!" He grabbed Takeshi by the necktie and pulled him, protesting loudly, through the bustling227 station till they found a taxi. Minoru told the driver to go to the Tokyo Hilton International in west Shinjuku. There was a convention in town of prosecutors from all over the world, including Interpol heavies, big-city DA's, and restless global travelers, among whom Minoru could easily find half a dozen who'd tell him all about the initiator fragment, even get facsimiles while he waited of the sales slip, with the purchaser's current address, if he liked. Takeshi kept his hand on the door handle but forgot, each time the cab slowed, to jump out. It was '78, during a period of epic228 and bloody229 street war among all major factions230 of the yakuza, and no place public was safe from liability. Pedestrian life in Shinjuku shared the same nervous dread231. Disco music coming out the club doors was all in minor keys tonight, the beat slower, undanceable. Through years of stately unfoldings of the deep actuarial mysteries that allowed him to go on making a living, Takeshi had come to value and watch closely in the world for signs and symptoms, messages from beyond, and even discounting the effects of drug abuse, nothing about the city seemed quite right tonight, as if a day already tough was about to start getting worse....
At the Hilton, Minoru found the names on his list all conscientiously232 engaged in scheduled evening activities, one at a Yak24 Doc Workshop, another at a Plea-Bargaining Clinic, yet another at a symposium titled "Funding That First Election Campaign." Frustrated233, they headed for the bar and sat drinking till somebody paged Minoru, who disappeared and remained that way. After a while Takeshi wandered off to the toilet, but could not immediately find his way back and after a couple of wrong turns walked into some sort of rear foyer, just off the street, where he could hear large V-8 engines idling. Two Americans in brown gabardine suits were arguing.
One of them was Brock Vond, who was saying, "We need time to round up some troops. Don't want them to know we found anything out, hm? They'll have their checkpoints between here and there, so what we need now is a plausible234 head and shoulders in the back seat. Who knows, Roscoe, you may even have to go in there."
"They'll ID me in two seconds, Brock. Naw, what we need —" Looking around rhetorically, he spotted235 the mentally confused Takeshi. "Hey — this could be just the customer. Kombanwa, m' friend, you speak English?" Which is when Takeshi actually saw Brock Vond for the first time, moving forward into the light, and thought for a terrified second or two it was himself and something radical236, like death, had just happened. It was a stressed and malevolent237 cartoon of his face, of what he shaved and had long looks at, but its steady glide238 forward had him hypnotized. Brock slid a rectangle of white plastic into the breast pocket of Takeshi's suit jacket. "Your passport to an evening you'll never forget," whispered Brock, and "Don't say we never did nothing for you," added Roscoe. And there was Takeshi in the back seat of a strange oversize American car, locked in, being borne through the streets of Shinjuku southward, crossing the Expressway, into Roppongi, expecting street mines, storms of automatic-weapon fire, convinced he had stumbled into the middle of some Japanese gang-war drama with a couple of gaijin bit players in it.
The car let him off beside a building the size of a warehouse239, whose only light was next to a metal door, illuminating240 a slot the size of the card he'd been given. The neighborhood was deserted241. Takeshi tapped on the car window, but the car only revved242 up and moved out and was soon around the corner and gone. Takeshi looked at the card. Next to a logo of a pleasant-looking young woman in provocative243 attire, it said, in English, "GENTLEMEN TITS ASS CLUB / For the Connoisseur244." It sounded like Takeshi's sort of place, yet he knew Brock and Roscoe were sending him in as a decoy. "A tough call," he admitted — "what would you have done?"
"Found a cab," Prairie said. "But then again. . . ." She'd finally got to meet Takeshi, who'd showed up in the dead of night talking a mile a minute and demanding to be put on the Puncutron Machine, a device he apparently believed had brought him back to life once. When they were introduced next morning at breakfast, she saw this shorter, older guy wearing a truly gross suit, in synthetic245 fabric246 but printed to look like some tweed of bright powder-blue flecks247 against a liver-colored background. The pants bagged at the knees. DL leaned lightly on his shoulder and looked down at him, a little apologetic. "Just got to keep an eye on his feet, you'll be fine," as Takeshi took Prairie's hand and leered genially248. "Here," DL reaching over and swiftly brushing bangs down over his eyebrows249 while he tried, muttering, to push her away, "who's he remind you of?"
"Moe!" Prairie cried.
He winked250. "What's she been tellin' ya, Toots?"
"All about it," said DL.
"Looks like I got here just in time." From then on he was not shy about putting in with color commentary on DL's version. Until, just before the dark metal door with the plastic key, he paused and wondered aloud, "Maybe we should just skip over the sex part here. . . ."
"She is just a kid," DL agreed.
"You guys?" Prairie protested.
"Heedlessly then — fingering its smooth rigid251 contours, I — took the plastic card and — thrust it into the slot, shuddering as — something whined252 and the object was — abruptly sucked from my fingers...." After a brief scan it was stuck back out at him, like a tongue. Inside, he found the place all but vacated, little evidence of any night's business, no fumes of sake, no screened clatter253 of gaming tiles, or feminine crossings and glimpses. . . . Had there been a police raid? Had Brock already found his troops? From distant margins254 of the place voices could almost be heard. Suddenly he'd walked right into the middle of a piping of parlormaids, easily a dozen of the charming soubrettes in scandalously short outfits of organdy and taffeta, who gathered around him like shiny birds of doom255. He began to sweat with panic and also to get an erection. He was hustled256 along, daintily coerced257 with flashing burgundy nails, through room after room, barely able, in the delicate stampede of high heels, to keep from tripping, down deserted hallways, trying to be a sport, going, "Ladies, ladies!" and "What's all this?" But he was only cargo258. Surrounded by airy petticoats and fluttering eyelashes, he was billowed at length into an elevator, and they all dropped suddenly, pressing together, till the doors opened onto a corridor lit by musk-scented black candles, with only one other door in it, down at the far end. As they were shoving him out of the elevator, the girls acknowledged him for the first time. "Have an enjoyable evening, Vond-san," they cried. "Don't be so nervous!" Then all together, rustling259, breezy, they bowed and departed by elevator, reaching as the doors closed into necklines and stocking tops for cigarettes and matches and lighting up.
"Vond-san"? Must be — his lookalike, back at the Hilton! They thought he was this American! What should he do? He looked around for a button to summon back the elevator, but there was none, the walls were smooth. The one door at the end of the passage was covered in black velvet260, with a silver doorknob. As carefully as he approached, he couid still hear his shoes squeaking261 in this muffled262 place. Maybe it was all Minoru's idea of a practical joke. He tried to knock on the door, but the velvet surface absorbed the blows. He was supposed to turn the knob himself, open, step in. ... There was DL, lying in bed, hat, long earrings263, miniskirt? Incredible! This Vond character must be — a miniskirt man too! She smiled. "Hurry, Brock. Get those fuckin' clothes off."
Oboy, an assertive264 woman! Takeshi thought, I love it! "But that's not —" he began.
"Ssh. Don't talk. Undress. You're safe here."
Trembling in a way whorehouses seldom got him to do, Takeshi stripped, conscious of each article coming off, of the air and the weight of her watching against his skin. Somewhere the hour chimed. By the ancient system, it was the hour of the cock, "In more ways than one," as Takeshi in later years liked to interpolate in comical accents, predictably to DL's annoyance265. A bird usually associated with the dawn, the cock, by the laws of the Death Touch, belonged to early night. By now the chi cycle of the victim would have arrived in the region of his triple warmer, considered wife to the bladder, which was thus endangered. In the Dim Mak method, the Needle Finger DL intended to use could be calibrated266 to cause a delay of up to a year in the actual moment of death, depending on the force and direction of its application. She could hit Brock Vond now, and months in the future be safely in the middle of a perfect alibi at the moment he dropped dead.
"Now wait a minute," Prairie interrupted, "you're right there in this superintimate situation with a guy taking his clothes off, and it's obviously Takeshi here, a stranger, but you're still calling him Brock?"
"It was 'ose contacts they made me wear," said DL, "to make my eyes as blue as your mom's — yours, for that matter. Cheapskates at the ol' Depaato wouldn't even spring for a pair that was in my prescription267."
"You had on somebody else's contacts? Eeoo!"
"And I couldn't see shit. Brock and Takeshi were both about the same size and body format210 anyway, and my mind right then was switched onto more of a transpersonal mode."
"Payin' attention to what you were doing," Prairie guessed.
So much so that it wasn't till later that DL remembered the contact lenses, which had been repossessed almost as soon as the deed was done. The more she considered, the more thickly came the birds of creepiness to perch268 on her shoulders. She never found out for sure, but had come to believe that the lenses had been taken from the eyes of a dead person. That furthermore she had been intended to witness her own act of murder through the correction to just this person's eyesight. Likely a hooker, DL speculated, who'd been caught holding out, who'd spent her whole short life off the books, whose name, even names she'd used professionally, nobody remembered anymore. As lost now as she could get.
But whose countersight DL was looking through that hour as she straddled the naked man on the bed, found his penis and slipped it in, breathing with precision, conscious only of the human alarm points spread below, defenseless, along those dark meridians. No longer needing anyone's eyes, she went in by other sensors269, direct to the point, opposing his chi flow, spiraling her own in with the correct handedness. Takeshi never felt it. It wasn't till he climaxed270 moments later and started screaming in street Japanese that DL, de-transcending, realized something might be amiss. She hung over the side of the bed, groping at her eyes, Takeshi with a softoff sliding out and away in some confusion. When he saw her face again, he was amazed at the sudden green paleness of her irises, as if something had drained away. She clenched271 her lids, blinked.
"Oh — God — oh, no —" faster than he could follow, she had rolled off the bed and taken a fighting stance with the door to her right.
"Hey, beautiful," Takeshi up on one elbow, "if it was something I did—"
"Who are you? No — never mind —" She turned and fled out the door, in her high-sixties outfit, observed as she went by any number of cameras, population now returning to the corridors, plausible copies, for DL, of known enemy faces, bearing old wrongs, old scores to settle, converging272 here around her sloppy273, amateur attempt at homicide. . . .
Ralph Wayvone, who'd been patched in as a courtesy from the Imperial, followed DL's progress out to the street on his own monitor, as well as Takeshi's slow bewildered dressing274 and departure. "Better put somebody on that Japanese guy. Maybe we can help."
"Want me go get her?" inquired Two-Ton Carmine275 Torpidini.
Ralph appeared to think about it. "Let her go, we can always find her again . . . she'll know how much she owes us now."
The phone rang, Carmine took it. "Says that somebody tipped off our boy. So he must have sent in a stuntman276."
Ralph kept watching the screen, watching her go, those long, beautifully-in-shape legs, that slowed-down martial-arts lope, finally with an extravagant277 "Mmwahh!" blowing her a kiss as she vanished. "So long, babe. I was hopin' you'd be the one. If you couldint nail him, who can?"
"He's too lucky," Carmine philosophized. "But he's livin' on borrowed time, 'cause a lucky streak278 don't last forever,"
"Fuckin' Vond," Ralph Wayvone sighed, "he's the Roadrun-ner."
DL flew back to California, homing brainlessly in once again on the Kunoichi Retreat, where she'd been coming since her adolescence, then leaving, then coming back again, building a long-term love-hate affair with the Attentive staff, Sister Rochelle in particular. But this time Rochelle could see how awful she looked, and only assigned her to a cell and suggested gently that they talk the next day.
It would have given DL time to try and look quietly, frontally, at what she'd done. No use. She cried, failed to sleep, masturbated, snuck down to the kitchen and ate, snuck into the Regression Room and watched old movies on the Tube, smoking cigarette butts279 out of the public ashtrays280 till the birds woke up. By the time she dragged in to see the Senior Attentive, she was a sleepless282 wreck. The older woman reached, smoothed hair away from DL's sweating forehead. "I've done something so —" DL sat trembling, couldn't find a word.
"Why tell me?"
"What? Who else can I tell that'll understand?"
"Just what I wanted today, just when the cash flow's starting to turn around, just as I'm finding my life's true meaning as a businessperson, I might've known it, in you waltz and suddenly I've got to be Father Flanagan." She shook her head, pursed her lips like a nun283, but sat and heard out DL's confession284. Finally, "OK, couple questions. Are you sure you didn't, at the last instant, pull back?"
"I'm — not sure, no —"
"Paying attention," darkly, " 's the whole point, DL-san." The body transaction had been complex, referential, calling in not only chi flow and the time of day but also memory, conscience, passion, inhibition — all converging to the one lethal instant. The Senior Attentive gazed evenly at the bent285 nape, the averted286 face. "Just from your life pattern already, here's what I think. Living as always let's say at a certain distance from the reality of others, you descended —"
"I was taken!"
"— you were brought — down again into the corrupted287 world, and instead of paying attention, taking the time, getting prepared, you had to be a reckless bitch and go rushing through the outward forms, so of course you blew it, what'd you expect?"
And that was when DL remembered Inoshiro Sensei's remarks about those who never get to be warriors288, who on impulse go in, fuck up, and have to live with it for the rest of their lives. He had known — he had seen it in her, some latency for a bungled289 execution at a critical moment, somewhere in her destiny — but how could he ever have warned her? DL realized she had been nodding solemnly for a while. "What I need to know," she whispered at last, "is, can it be reversed."
"Your life? Forget it. The Vibrating Palm, well yes and no. It depends on many variables, not least being how quickly it'll get seen to."
"But. . ." but what was she saying? "but I was just down there____"
"Since you were here with us last, we've built up a good medical unit — couple of licensed290 DOM's on the staff now, some new therapy machines — and while we don't see that many Ninja Death Touch cases, your victim has a better chance the sooner you can get him up here."
"But how'll I ever find him again? I didn't think I'd — I wanted —" but DL thought better of it.
But Rochelle said, "Let's have it."
"I hoped there might be ... ," a small failing voice, "some way I could stay?"
Out the window, screened by eucalyptus291 trees, could be seen once-white walls overgrown with ivy292, a distant bight of freeway tucked into the unfolding spill of land toward "down there" — while up here the wind blew among the smooth gold and green hills, it seemed endlessly. Here was the deep quiescent hour, the bottom dead center of the day. The women sat in the Ninjette Coffee Mess and watched the caustics293 of sunlight flutter on the insides of their cups.
"If there were ninjitsu jury boards," Rochelle suggested, "you'd get your card pulled for what you say you did. Maybe this is the time, sister, that you'll finally start pulling your weight. We've always believed in your sincerity294, but it can't get you much further — when do we ever see you concentrate, where's the attention span? Blithely295 driving off down the road in some little low-rent touring machine, showing up again in something from an assistant buyers' sale at Zody's beggin' to be taken back, on again off again over the years, no continuity, no persistence296, no ... fucking . .. attention. All we see's somebody running because if she stops running she'll fall, and nothing beyond."
"I thought you'd take me in no matter what I'd done."
"And if I wanted you to leave us forever, I'd just say 'Leave,' wouldn't I?"
"And I'd have to leave." For the first time in the interview the sun-haired girl raised her eyes to those of the motionless Headmistress — a compound look, flirtatious18 while at the same time pushing away, clearly desperate at, any thought of having to go find Takeshi again. "But if I bring him back up —"
Sister Rochelle rolled her eyes in mock surrender. "We should reward you by letting you stay forever? Oh, child. Thirty-year-old, hardcase, cold and beautiful child."
It was as much blessing297 as DL was likely to get. She asked for and was granted a few days to prepare. And had got to where she could stay away from other people's smokes, keep her hands off her pussy298, and hypnotize herself to sleep when who should appear at the gate but Takeshi, looking for her, saving everybody the trouble.
Not that he hadn't been through some difficulties of his own, of course, beginning back in Tokyo with the swamp of primal299 fear he'd been fighting through since finding out what had happened, which hadn't taken him long. The morning after his adventure at Haru no Depaato he tried to call Minoru at his office in the an-titerrorist subministry, but all he got was a lengthy300 runaround, including suggestions that the person no longer existed in the form Takeshi had known. After a while, no matter what extension he called, he was immediately put on hold and left there.
Takeshi went around all that day and the next feeling like a toxic301 dump. Symptoms of everything, particularly thoracic and abdominal302 ones, lanced through him. He quit ordering from room service because the sight of food now nauseated303 him. The final hammerstroke came when he got his suit back from the cleaners, the suit he'd worn to and from his encounter with DL, and found it full of holes, each five to ten centimeters across, in the front of the jacket and at the top of the pants, the edges ragged281 and black, as if burned and rotted through at the same time. He called the dorai kuriiningu, who were apologetic but unhelpful.
"Used perchloroethylene — like we do on everything! I was amazed — when all those holes started!"
"Started? Started what?"
"To get bigger! Only took a few seconds! Never saw anything like it!"
Sweating and aching, deeply apprehensive304, Takeshi made an emergency appointment with one of the staff croakers at Wawa-zume Life & Non-Life, remembering to bring the afflicted suit with him. Dr. Oruni laid it out on an examining table and sent some automated305 scanning device over it while he and Takeshi watched a video screen in the next room, displaying the data in graph and print form. "These are all alarm points," the doctor showing with a cursor the pattern of holes. "Some strange, corrosive306 energy — very negative! Have you been in a fight?"
Takeshi remembered what he'd been trying all day not to — the American girl — the way she'd stared, the terror and failure in her face just before she turned and fled. He told the doctor about their rendezvous307 in the Haru no Depaato while he ran Takeshi through an abbreviated308 physical, grunting309 darkly at everything he seemed to find. Nothing really showed up, though, till the urine scan. Doc Oruni pulled a bottle of Suntory Scotch310 out of a small refrigerator, found two paper cups, poured them 90% full, put his feet up on his desk, and dolefully surrendered to mystery. "There's no cancer, no cystitis, no stones. Proteins, ketones, all that — it's normal! But something very weird311 is happening to your bladder! It's like trauma312, only — much slower!"
"We — can't be more specific?"
"Why, do you — think you can find this somewhere in some — actuarial table? And once you see the odds313, and learn the name, it'll go away?"
"It — doesn't happen often, ne?"
"I've never seen it — only read articles, heard talk around the clubhouse — anecdotes314. If you like, I'll send you to somebody who can give you details. . . ."
"Just whatever you can tell me, then?"
"Ever heard of the Vibrating Palm?"
"Yeah — been in there once or twice!"
"Not a bar, Fumimota-san. An assassination technique — with a built-in time delay! Invented centuries ago by the Malayan Chinese, adapted by our own ninja and yakuza. Today a number of systems are taught — same effect!"
"She did that to me?" Effect? "But I didn't feel anything."
"Dewa — there's your good news! Allegedly, the lighter315 the touch — the longer you've got to live!"
"Well — how long?"
The doc chuckled for a while. "How light?"
Takeshi rode the elevator down alone, fully21 taken over, through the descent, by the fear of death. Now he could feel each of his suffering alarm points, count different struggling pulses, imagine his chi flow, in turbulence316 — blocked, darkly reversed, stained, lost — slowly destroying his insides. Any time he went to piss now would be an occasion for terror.
"My own sleaziness — has done me in!" It was too late even for remorse317 over the years squandered318 in barely maintaining what he now saw as a foolish, emotionally diseased life. He came reeling out of the elevator under the combined influence of speed, Scotch, and some new tranquilizer nobody knew anything about but which the detail man had left a huge barrel of samples of in the waiting room, with a sign urging passersby319 to take as many as they wished, so what some might have called his glibness320 no doubt had its origins in the realm of the chemical.
Back at the hotel he found a ticket to SFX tonight on the redeye, with a note from Two-Ton Carmine expressing sympathy for his recent inconvenience and the hope that once in San Francisco he would communicate with the enclosed phone number. What difference did it make? Takeshi shrugged321. He packed a carry-on bag with two weeks' supply of amphetamines, a change of underwear, and an extra shirt and grabbed the hotel bus out to Narita.
The hours on the airplane were among the worst of his life. He drank steadily322 and, when he remembered to, popped green time-release capsules of dextroamphetamine plus amobarbital. He took some time to read through the stuffer for the tranquilizers he'd picked up at the doc's. Oh, ho, ho! Look at all these contraindications! Every variety of shit that was seething323 around already in his system, as a matter of fact, was prohibited. "Well!" out loud, "that being the case —" he ordered another drink and swallowed some more tranquilizers. His seatmate, a serious-looking gaijin businessman with a hand-held computer game that had up till now claimed his attention, looked over at Takeshi and then continued staring for a while. "You aren't committing suicide, are you?"
Takeshi grinned energetically. "Suicide? Nah! Uh-uh, buddy324, just — trying to relax! I mean — don't you just hate flying? Huh? when you start thinking — about all the possibilities.. . ."
The young man, even though in a v/indow seat, did his best to edge away. Takeshi went on, "Here, you want to try one of these? Huh? they — they're really good. Evoex, ever heard of them? Something new!"
"There's a hidden camera somewhere, right? This is a commercial?" The question rang almost prayerfully in these surroundings, the moonlit childhood-picture-book clouds out the rounded toy windows, the lambent fall of electric light on faces and documents, the affectless music in the earphones, the possibly otherworldly origins of Takeshi's madness. . . .
"You'd be — real interested in this!" Takeshi began, "maybe even — tell me what you think I should do — because frankly325, I'm at my wit's end!" proceeding326 then to rattle327 out the whole story, sparing no medical detail. The suit-wearing juvenile was more than willing to listen to anything, as long as it delayed the moment, easily imagined, when Takeshi would produce a weapon and begin to run amok in the aisles328.
When Takeshi paused at last, the American tried to be sympathetic. "What can you expect? A woman."
"No, no! Somebody thought I was — somebody else." "Hmm. Maybe you thought she was somebody else." Takeshi grew instantiy paranoid, assuming, for some reason, that the young man was talking about his ex-
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agitated
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killing
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afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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6
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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7
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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8
looming
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| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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9
folder
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| n.纸夹，文件夹 | |
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10
buffer
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| n.起缓冲作用的人(或物)，缓冲器；vt.缓冲 | |
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sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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13
stapled
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| v.用钉书钉钉住( staple的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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15
texture
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| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
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16
compute
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| v./n.计算，估计 | |
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17
ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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18
flirtatious
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| adj.爱调情的，调情的，卖俏的 | |
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19
assassination
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| n.暗杀；暗杀事件 | |
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20
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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21
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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22
exasperation
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| n.愤慨 | |
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23
martial
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| adj.战争的，军事的，尚武的，威武的 | |
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24
yak
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| n.牦牛 | |
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25
rumors
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| n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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26
elimination
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| n.排除，消除，消灭 | |
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27
arena
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| n.竞技场，运动场所；竞争场所，舞台 | |
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28
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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29
rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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30
venue
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| n.犯罪地点，审判地，管辖地，发生地点，集合地点 | |
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31
skulls
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| 颅骨( skull的名词复数 )； 脑袋； 脑子； 脑瓜 | |
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32
obsession
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| n.困扰，无法摆脱的思想(或情感) | |
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33
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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34
anatomy
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| n.解剖学，解剖；功能，结构，组织 | |
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35
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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36
stashed
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| v.贮藏( stash的过去式和过去分词 )；隐藏；藏匿；藏起 | |
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37
wig
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| n.假发 | |
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38
legendary
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| adj.传奇（中）的，闻名遐迩的；n.传奇（文学） | |
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39
tuned
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| adj.调谐的，已调谐的v.调音( tune的过去式和过去分词 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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40
dinosaurs
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| n.恐龙( dinosaur的名词复数 )；守旧落伍的人，过时落后的东西 | |
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41
unnaturally
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| adv.违反习俗地；不自然地；勉强地；不近人情地 | |
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42
plumes
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| 羽毛( plume的名词复数 )； 羽毛饰； 羽毛状物； 升上空中的羽状物 | |
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43
dunes
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| 沙丘( dune的名词复数 ) | |
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44
outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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45
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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46
stunning
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| adj.极好的；使人晕倒的 | |
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47
residual
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| adj.复播复映追加时间；存留下来的，剩余的 | |
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48
stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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49
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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50
opium
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| n.鸦片；adj.鸦片的 | |
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51
vibrations
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| n.摆动( vibration的名词复数 )；震动；感受；（偏离平衡位置的）一次性往复振动 | |
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52
cozy
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| adj.亲如手足的，密切的，暖和舒服的 | |
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53
joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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54
corpses
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| n.死尸，尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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55
eyewitnesses
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| 目击者( eyewitness的名词复数 ) | |
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56
murky
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| adj.黑暗的，朦胧的；adv.阴暗地，混浊地；n.阴暗；昏暗 | |
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57
woolens
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| 毛织品，毛料织物； 毛织品，羊毛织物，毛料衣服( woolen的名词复数 ) | |
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58
blandest
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| adj.（食物）淡而无味的( bland的最高级 )；平和的；温和的；无动于衷的 | |
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59
rinse
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| v.用清水漂洗，用清水冲洗 | |
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60
freckles
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| n.雀斑，斑点( freckle的名词复数 ) | |
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61
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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62
makeup
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| n.组织；性格；化装品 | |
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63
alias
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| n.化名；别名；adv.又名 | |
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64
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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65
belle
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| n.靓女 | |
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66
specialized
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| adj.专门的，专业化的 | |
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67
auction
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| n.拍卖；拍卖会；vt.拍卖 | |
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68
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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69
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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70
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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71
glamorous
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| adj.富有魅力的；美丽动人的；令人向往的 | |
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72
bloc
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| n.集团；联盟 | |
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73
seethed
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| （液体）沸腾( seethe的过去式和过去分词 )； 激动，大怒； 强压怒火； 生闷气(~with sth|~ at sth) | |
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74
transgression
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| n.违背；犯规；罪过 | |
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75
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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76
salmons
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| n.鲑鱼，大马哈鱼( salmon的名词复数 ) | |
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77
outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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78
outfits
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| n.全套装备( outfit的名词复数 )；一套服装；集体；组织v.装备，配置设备，供给服装( outfit的第三人称单数 ) | |
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79
forthright
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| adj.直率的，直截了当的 [同]frank | |
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80
juvenile
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| n.青少年，少年读物；adj.青少年的，幼稚的 | |
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81
attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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82
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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83
crests
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| v.到达山顶（或浪峰）( crest的第三人称单数 )；到达洪峰，达到顶点 | |
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84
discrepancy
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| n.不同；不符；差异；矛盾 | |
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85
comedian
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| n.喜剧演员；滑稽演员 | |
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86
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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87
attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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88
prospective
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| adj.预期的，未来的，前瞻性的 | |
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89
scribbled
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| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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90
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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91
commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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92
spotlight
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| n.公众注意的中心，聚光灯，探照灯，视听，注意，醒目 | |
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93
pageant
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| n.壮观的游行；露天历史剧 | |
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94
alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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95
bartered
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| v.作物物交换，以货换货( barter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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96
heroin
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| n.海洛因 | |
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97
mink
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| n.貂，貂皮 | |
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98
yen
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| n. 日元；热望 | |
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99
theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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100
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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101
poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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102
blurred
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| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
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103
bidder
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| n.(拍卖时的)出价人，报价人，投标人 | |
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104
deliriously
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| adv.谵妄（性）；发狂；极度兴奋/亢奋；说胡话 | |
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105
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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106
shackles
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| 手铐( shackle的名词复数 )； 脚镣； 束缚； 羁绊 | |
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107
shack
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| adj.简陋的小屋，窝棚 | |
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108
steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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109
automobile
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| n.汽车，机动车 | |
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110
latched
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| v.理解( latch的过去式和过去分词 )；纠缠；用碰锁锁上（门等）；附着（在某物上） | |
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111
orchid
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| n.兰花，淡紫色 | |
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112
orchids
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| n.兰花( orchid的名词复数 ) | |
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113
suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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114
spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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115
flexed
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| adj.[医]曲折的，屈曲v.屈曲( flex的过去式和过去分词 )；弯曲；（为准备大干而）显示实力；摩拳擦掌 | |
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116
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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117
mainstream
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| n.（思想或行为的）主流；adj.主流的 | |
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118
tenor
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| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
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119
adolescence
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| n.青春期，青少年 | |
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120
scouts
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| 侦察员[机，舰]( scout的名词复数 )； 童子军； 搜索； 童子军成员 | |
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121
invoices
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| 发票( invoice的名词复数 )； （发货或服务）费用清单； 清单上货物的装运； 货物的托运 | |
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122
dodging
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| n.避开，闪过，音调改变v.闪躲( dodge的现在分词 )；回避 | |
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123
warp
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| vt.弄歪，使翘曲，使不正常，歪曲，使有偏见 | |
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124
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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125
quotas
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| （正式限定的）定量( quota的名词复数 )； 定额； 指标； 摊派 | |
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126
assessment
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| n.评价；评估；对财产的估价，被估定的金额 | |
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127
lethal
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| adj.致死的；毁灭性的 | |
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128
luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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129
rationed
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| 限量供应，配给供应( ration的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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130
earring
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| n.耳环，耳饰 | |
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131
payroll
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| n.工资表，在职人员名单，工薪总额 | |
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132
meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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133
severed
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
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134
shrimp
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| n.虾，小虾；矮小的人 | |
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135
hops
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| 跳上[下]( hop的第三人称单数 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
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136
scenario
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| n.剧本，脚本；概要 | |
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137
prosecutors
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| 检举人( prosecutor的名词复数 )； 告发人； 起诉人； 公诉人 | |
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138
symposium
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| n.讨论会，专题报告会；专题论文集 | |
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139
mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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140
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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141
lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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142
fluorescent
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| adj.荧光的，发出荧光的 | |
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143
tinted
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| adj. 带色彩的 动词tint的过去式和过去分词 | |
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144
outlet
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| n.出口/路；销路；批发商店；通风口；发泄 | |
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145
obsessed
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| adj.心神不宁的,鬼迷心窍的,沉迷的 | |
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146
penance
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| n.（赎罪的）惩罪 | |
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147
delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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148
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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149
checkout
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| n.（超市等）收银台，付款处 | |
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150
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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151
quiescent
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| adj.静止的，不活动的，寂静的 | |
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152
attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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153
dedicated
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| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
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154
wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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155
repayment
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| n.偿还，偿还款；报酬 | |
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156
meridians
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| n.子午圈( meridian的名词复数 )；子午线；顶点；（权力，成就等的）全盛时期 | |
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157
timing
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| n.时间安排，时间选择 | |
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158
obliteration
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| n.涂去，删除；管腔闭合 | |
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159
conglomerate
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| n.综合商社，多元化集团公司 | |
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160
fatalities
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| n.恶性事故( fatality的名词复数 )；死亡；致命性；命运 | |
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161
drizzle
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| v.下毛毛雨；n.毛毛雨，蒙蒙细雨 | |
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162
crater
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| n.火山口，弹坑 | |
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163
squads
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| n.（军队中的）班( squad的名词复数 )；（暗杀）小组；体育运动的运动（代表）队；（对付某类犯罪活动的）警察队伍 | |
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164
thermos
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| n.保湿瓶，热水瓶 | |
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165
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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166
mentor
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| n.指导者，良师益友；v.指导 | |
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167
marine
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| adj.海的；海生的；航海的；海事的；n.水兵 | |
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168
demolished
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| v.摧毁( demolish的过去式和过去分词 )；推翻；拆毁（尤指大建筑物）；吃光 | |
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169
leverage
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| n.力量，影响；杠杆作用，杠杆的力量 | |
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170
stomped
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| v.跺脚，践踏，重踏( stomp的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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171
secular
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| n.牧师，凡人；adj.世俗的，现世的，不朽的 | |
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172
corporate
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| adj.共同的，全体的；公司的，企业的 | |
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173
reeking
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| v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的现在分词 )；散发臭气；发出难闻的气味 (of sth)；明显带有（令人不快或生疑的跡象） | |
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174
hazy
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| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
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175
barricades
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| 路障，障碍物( barricade的名词复数 ) | |
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176
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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177
cubicle
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| n.大房间中隔出的小室 | |
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178
lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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179
flip
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| vt.快速翻动；轻抛；轻拍；n.轻抛；adj.轻浮的 | |
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180
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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181
nomad
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| n.游牧部落的人，流浪者，游牧民 | |
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182
kerosene
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| n.(kerosine)煤油，火油 | |
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183
fumes
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| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
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184
stewardess
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| n.空中小姐，女乘务员 | |
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185
domain
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| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
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186
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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187
laboring
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|
| n.劳动，操劳v.努力争取(for)( labor的现在分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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188
airfields
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| n.（较小的无建筑的）飞机场( airfield的名词复数 ) | |
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189
detours
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| 绕行的路( detour的名词复数 )； 绕道，兜圈子 | |
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190
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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191
swooping
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的现在分词 ) | |
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192
modification
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| n.修改，改进，缓和，减轻 | |
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193
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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194
imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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195
onlookers
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|
| n.旁观者，观看者( onlooker的名词复数 ) | |
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196
glistening
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|
| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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197
talons
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| n.（尤指猛禽的）爪( talon的名词复数 )；（如爪般的）手指；爪状物；锁簧尖状突出部 | |
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198
textures
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| n.手感( texture的名词复数 )；质感；口感；（音乐或文学的）谐和统一感 | |
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199
evacuate
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| v.遣送；搬空；抽出；排泄；大(小)便 | |
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200
slings
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| 抛( sling的第三人称单数 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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201
crumbling
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|
| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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202
collapses
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|
| 折叠( collapse的第三人称单数 )； 倒塌； 崩溃； （尤指工作劳累后）坐下 | |
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203
rental
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| n.租赁，出租，出租业 | |
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204
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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205
tabloids
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| n.小报，通俗小报（版面通常比大报小一半，文章短，图片多，经常报道名人佚事）( tabloid的名词复数 )；药片 | |
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206
exorbitance
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| n.过度，不当 | |
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207
cryptic
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| adj.秘密的，神秘的，含义模糊的 | |
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208
offshore
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| adj.海面的，吹向海面的；adv.向海面 | |
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209
maliciously
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| adv.有敌意地 | |
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210
format
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| n.设计，版式；[计算机]格式，DOS命令:格式化(磁盘)，用于空盘或使用过的磁盘建立新空盘来存储数据；v.使格式化，设计，安排 | |
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211
caper
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| v.雀跃，欢蹦；n.雀跃，跳跃；续随子，刺山柑花蕾；嬉戏 | |
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212
dummy
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| n.假的东西；(哄婴儿的)橡皮奶头 | |
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213
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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214
indigenous
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| adj.土产的，土生土长的，本地的 | |
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215
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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216
feud
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| n.长期不和；世仇；v.长期争斗；世代结仇 | |
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217
outgrown
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| 长[发展] 得超过（某物）的范围( outgrow的过去分词 )； 长[发展]得不能再要（某物）； 长得比…快； 生长速度超过 | |
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218
ransom
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| n.赎金，赎身；v.赎回，解救 | |
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219
blizzard
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| n.暴风雪 | |
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220
turquoise
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| n.绿宝石；adj.蓝绿色的 | |
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221
bomber
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| n.轰炸机，投弹手，投掷炸弹者 | |
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222
alibi
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| n.某人当时不在犯罪现场的申辩或证明；借口 | |
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223
infinity
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| n.无限，无穷，大量 | |
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224
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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225
collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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226
irises
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| n.虹( iris的名词复数 )；虹膜；虹彩；鸢尾（花） | |
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227
bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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228
epic
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| n.史诗，叙事诗；adj.史诗般的，壮丽的 | |
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229
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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230
factions
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| 组织中的小派别，派系( faction的名词复数 ) | |
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231
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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232
conscientiously
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| adv.凭良心地；认真地，负责尽职地；老老实实 | |
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233
frustrated
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| adj.挫败的，失意的，泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 )；挫败；使受挫折；令人沮丧 | |
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234
plausible
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|
| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
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235
spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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236
radical
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|
| n.激进份子，原子团，根号；adj.根本的，激进的，彻底的 | |
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237
malevolent
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| adj.有恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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238
glide
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| n./v.溜，滑行；(时间)消逝 | |
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239
warehouse
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| n.仓库；vt.存入仓库 | |
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240
illuminating
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| a.富于启发性的，有助阐明的 | |
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241
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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242
revved
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| v.（使）加速( rev的过去式和过去分词 )；（数量、活动等）激增；（使发动机）快速旋转；（使）活跃起来 | |
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243
provocative
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| adj.挑衅的，煽动的，刺激的，挑逗的 | |
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244
connoisseur
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| n.鉴赏家，行家，内行 | |
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245
synthetic
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| adj.合成的，人工的；综合的；n.人工制品 | |
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246
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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247
flecks
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| n.斑点，小点( fleck的名词复数 )；癍 | |
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248
genially
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| adv.亲切地，和蔼地；快活地 | |
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249
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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250
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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251
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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252
whined
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| v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
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253
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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254
margins
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| 边( margin的名词复数 )； 利润； 页边空白； 差数 | |
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255
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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256
hustled
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| 催促（hustle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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257
coerced
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| v.迫使做( coerce的过去式和过去分词 )；强迫；（以武力、惩罚、威胁等手段）控制；支配 | |
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258
cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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259
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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260
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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261
squeaking
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| v.短促地尖叫( squeak的现在分词 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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262
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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263
earrings
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| n.耳环( earring的名词复数 )；耳坠子 | |
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264
assertive
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| adj.果断的，自信的，有冲劲的 | |
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265
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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266
calibrated
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| v.校准( calibrate的过去式和过去分词 )；使标准化；使合标准；测量（枪的）口径 | |
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267
prescription
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| n.处方，开药；指示，规定 | |
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268
perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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269
sensors
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| n.传感器，灵敏元件( sensor的名词复数 ) | |
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270
climaxed
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| vt.& vi.达到顶点（climax的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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271
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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272
converging
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| adj.收敛[缩]的，会聚的，趋同的v.（线条、运动的物体等）会于一点( converge的现在分词 )；（趋于）相似或相同；人或车辆汇集；聚集 | |
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273
sloppy
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| adj.邋遢的，不整洁的 | |
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274
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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275
carmine
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| n.深红色，洋红色 | |
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276
stuntman
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| n.特技演员 | |
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277
extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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278
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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279
butts
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| 笑柄( butt的名词复数 )； （武器或工具的）粗大的一端； 屁股； 烟蒂 | |
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280
ashtrays
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| 烟灰缸( ashtray的名词复数 ) | |
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281
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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282
sleepless
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| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
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283
nun
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| n.修女，尼姑 | |
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284
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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285
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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286
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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287
corrupted
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| （使）败坏( corrupt的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）腐化； 引起（计算机文件等的）错误； 破坏 | |
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288
warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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289
bungled
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| v.搞糟，完不成( bungle的过去式和过去分词 )；笨手笨脚地做；失败；完不成 | |
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290
licensed
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| adj.得到许可的v.许可，颁发执照(license的过去式和过去分词) | |
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291
eucalyptus
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| n.桉树，桉属植物 | |
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292
ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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293
caustics
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| n.苛性的( caustic的名词复数 )；腐蚀性的；尖刻的；刻薄的 | |
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294
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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295
blithely
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| adv.欢乐地，快活地，无挂虑地 | |
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296
persistence
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| n.坚持，持续，存留 | |
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297
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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298
pussy
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| n.(儿语)小猫，猫咪 | |
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299
primal
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| adj.原始的；最重要的 | |
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300
lengthy
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| adj.漫长的，冗长的 | |
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301
toxic
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| adj.有毒的，因中毒引起的 | |
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302
abdominal
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| adj.腹（部）的，下腹的；n.腹肌 | |
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303
nauseated
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| adj.作呕的，厌恶的v.使恶心，作呕( nauseate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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304
apprehensive
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| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
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305
automated
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| a.自动化的 | |
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306
corrosive
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| adj.腐蚀性的；有害的；恶毒的 | |
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307
rendezvous
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| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
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308
abbreviated
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| adj. 简短的，省略的 动词abbreviate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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309
grunting
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| 咕哝的，呼噜的 | |
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310
scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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311
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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312
trauma
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| n.外伤，精神创伤 | |
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313
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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314
anecdotes
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| n.掌故，趣闻，轶事( anecdote的名词复数 ) | |
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315
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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316
turbulence
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| n.喧嚣，狂暴，骚乱，湍流 | |
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317
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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318
squandered
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| v.（指钱，财产等）浪费，乱花( squander的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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319
passersby
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| n. 过路人(行人,经过者) | |
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320
glibness
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| n.花言巧语；口若悬河 | |
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321
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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322
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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323
seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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324
buddy
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| n.（美口）密友，伙伴 | |
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325
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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326
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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327
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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328
aisles
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| n. (席位间的)通道, 侧廊 | |
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