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She
held
out
her
hands
,
palms
up
,
the
white
fingers
slightly
spread
,
and
with
a
barely
audible
click
,
ten
double
-
edged
,
fourcentimeter
scalpel
blades
slid
from
their
housings
beneath
the
burgundy
nails
.
She
smiled
.
The
blades
slowly
withdrew
.
After
a
year
of
coffins
,
the
room
on
the
twenty
-
fifth
floor
of
the
Chiba
Hilton
seemed
enormous
.
It
was
ten
meters
by
eight
,
half
of
a
suite
.
A
white
Braun
coffeemaker
steamed
on
a
low
table
by
the
sliding
glass
panels
that
opened
onto
a
narrow
balcony
.
'
Get
some
coffee
in
you
.
Look
like
you
need
it
.
’
She
took
off
her
black
jacket
;
the
fletcher
hung
beneath
her
arm
in
a
black
nylon
shoulder
rig
.
She
wore
a
sleeveless
gray
pullover
with
plain
steel
zips
across
each
shoulder
.
Bulletproof
.
Case
decided
,
slopping
coffee
into
a
bright
red
mug
.
His
arms
and
legs
felt
like
they
were
made
out
of
wood
.
'
Case
.
’
He
looked
up
,
seeing
the
man
for
the
first
time
.
'
My
name
is
Armitage
.
’
The
dark
robe
was
open
to
the
waist
,
the
broad
chest
hairless
and
muscular
,
the
stomach
flat
and
hard
.
Blue
eyes
so
pale
they
made
Case
think
of
bleach
.
'
Sun
’
s
up
,
Case
.
This
is
your
lucky
day
,
boy
.
’
Case
whipped
his
arm
sideways
and
the
man
easily
ducked
the
scalding
coffee
.
Brown
stain
running
down
the
imitation
ricepaper
wall
.
He
saw
the
angular
gold
ring
through
the
left
lobe
.
Special
Forces
.
The
man
smiled
.
'
Get
your
coffee
,
Case
,
’
Molly
said
.
'
You
re
okay
,
but
you
’
re
not
going
anywhere
’
til
Armitage
has
his
say
.
’
She
sat
crosslegged
on
a
silk
futon
and
began
to
fieldstrip
the
fletcher
without
bothering
to
look
at
it
.
Twin
mirrors
tracking
as
he
crossed
to
the
table
and
refilled
his
cup
.
'
Too
young
to
remember
the
war
,
aren
’
t
you
,
Case
?
’
Armitage
ran
a
large
hand
back
through
his
cropped
brown
hair
.
A
heavy
gold
bracelet
flashed
on
his
wrist
.
'
Leningrad
,
Kiev
,
Siberia
.
We
invented
you
in
Siberia
,
Case
.
’
'
What
’
s
that
supposed
to
mean
?
’
