"Any idea how long Lavrov had been here in Tokyo?"
"Just a couple of days," Kazuka said. "You have to admire his quick work spotting Tibbet."
"They must have been on him from day one, then," Carter said.
"Yet he was able to hide the chip."
Carter had thought about that paradox. If Lieutenant Lavrov's coworkers at the Soviet embassy knew that he was getting set to defect — knew so that they could set him and Tibbet up for the kill at the zoo — why was it they did not know the location of the computer chip? What was he missing?
"I have you booked at the Tamaka Hotel. It's quiet and out of the way."
Carter looked at her. He smiled. "Sure to bring back some memories."
She smiled too. "I was hoping it might, Nicholas. It's been a long time."
"Too long," Carter said. "Far too long."
The rest of their drive into the city was uneventful, though Kazuka carefully circled the hotel area several times to make absolutely certain they had not been picked up.
When she was satisfied, they parked in a ramp half a block behind the hotel and came in on foot. This section of Tokyo, called Kanda, was very near the Sumida River that divided the city in two. It was quiet at this time of night, and the back alleys and narrow side streets were hidden in darkness.
The Tamaka, which in Japanese meant "jewel," was a sixteen-story cream-colored building. Inside, the obsequious desk clerk registered Carter and the bellman helped them upstairs.
When they were alone, Kazuka came into his arms and he held her close. He had forgotten just how good she felt. After a moment or two she looked up into his eyes and they kissed deeply, the months and years of separation melting away as if they had never existed.
"I haven't forgotten you, Nicholas," she said. "A day hasn't gone by that I haven't thought of you."
Carter smiled tiredly. "I'd make a lousy husband."
"I don't care. You're here now. Yesterday is gone forever, and tomorrow is an unknown."
She helped Carter off with his jacket, then undid his tie, pulled it off, and began unbuttoning his shirt.
"There's nothing we can do tonight," she said. "Besides, you'll be suffering from jet lag."
"Disorientation," he offered.
She pushed his shirt off his shoulders and kissed his chest. "Lethargy."
"No desire," he said.
"No desire," she purred softly.
Carter kicked off his shoes and picked her up off her feet. They kissed on the way into the bathroom where the tub had already been turned on and was steaming. She kicked off her shoes at the door. Just inside, Carter reached back with one foot and closed the door to keep in the heat.
"I'm sorry Paul Tibbet was killed," she said. "And yet I don't care… it's brought you here."
Carter put her down and they finished undressing one another. Kazuka's breasts were small and proud, and Carter took each of them in his mouth, running his tongue around the darker halo of her nipples. She arched her back, a small moan escaping her lips.
He kissed the area between her breasts and then began to move down, Kazuka holding his head in her hands as he slipped off her skirt and panties.
"Nicholas?" she sighed.
He kissed her there, slowly, his tongue lingering, her entire body vibrating with pleasure as her hips began to move almost of their own volition.
Carter was ready. With her, it had been a very long time. And her body was so sweet.
He rose up swiftly and lifted her up onto him, entering her that way, their eyes locked into each other's, her lips parted and moist, her breath coming in little gasps.
Carefully he sank down with her so that they were lying on the thick soft mat in front of the tub, and he thrust deeply, her body swallowing his, her muscles contracting, increasing his pleasure tenfold.
As they made love, leisurely, deliberately, with the knowledge of experience, and with their feeling for each other so obvious. Carter could see the pleasure building in her eyes, and it made it even better for him.
He began to vary his rhythm, at times thrusting deeply, at times lingering for a second or more almost outside her body until Kazuka was nearly ready to cry out with the exquisite pain of her anticipated pleasure, and then he would drive into her again, her pelvis rising to meet his.
Three times they were at the peak, but each time they backed away, unwilling to let their pleasure go so easily. They would rest then, together — willing their hearts to slow, willing themselves back to control. But each time it became more difficult to hold back, and finally Carter did not stop. Finally he abandoned all control, her lovely legs wrapped tightly around his waist, his hands on her buttocks pulling her up, their bodies meshing in perfect unison.
"Nicholas!" Kazuka cried out, and Carter could see that she was there with him, and he let go, driving deep inside her and holding, as their entire existence focused on one perfect moment that seemed to go on and on.
They climbed into the tub and soaked and talked about nothing. Afterward they went to bed and made love again, this time even more slowly and with even greater pleasure. It was nearly five in the morning before Carter sank into a pleasantly exhausted sleep in which he and Kazuka ran through the fragrant woods near her uncle's mountain home.
It was a pleasant dream, and for a long time in the morning he was unwilling to wake up. Finally, however, he remembered where he was and why he had come there, and he sat up with a start.
Kazuka had already gone to the AXE office. She had left a note for him by the telephone. They were to have lunch together at noon in a small restaurant they both knew well in Tokyo's Ginza district.
Carter ordered up coffee and buttered toast. While he waited for room service, he took a quick shower and got dressed, checking and strapping on his weapons.
The English-language Tokyo Tribune came with his tray, but there was nothing of significance in the morning's news. If the Japanese knew that the Russians were running around looking for a missing computer chip and killing American CIA agents in the process, they were not publicizing it in their newspapers.
It was almost ten-thirty by the time he left his room and took the elevator down to the lobby.
Major Matsu Rishiri, who headed the Japanese CIA's counterespionage division, had been waiting. He rose and crossed the lobby to meet Carter. He was a small, cruel-looking man with a long jagged scar over his right eyebrow and a false left hand covered by a black glove. Ten years ago he had been a second lieutenant. He and Carter had worked together, both in Tokyo and to the south near Nagasaki fighting a Chinese Communist infiltration plot. A grenade had gone off, taking Rishiri's hand and nearly his life. He hadn't liked Americans very much at the time; he felt the Orient and her problems should be left to Orientals. He and Carter had not parted the best of friends.
"Welcome to Tokyo, Mr. Carter," Major Rishiri said, a dangerous edge to his voice.
They shook hands.
"Evidently your passport control computer system has been installed and works well," Carter said. He had counted on at least some anonymity for twenty-four hours. Now, however, it seemed as if everyone in Tokyo knew he was there.
Rishiri shrugged. He took Carter's arm and together they walked outside. The morning was cool but sunny. The streets were crammed with traffic.
"I am told that you spent the night with a beautiful woman," Rishiri said conversationally as they walked.
The major's driver was following them with his car.
"I have friends here."
"Anyone I should know?"
Carter was silent for a moment. "What brings you all the way across town from Kojimachi-ku this morning, Matsu-san?"