bottle when the baby eels arrived: tiny white things in a clear broth. The eels were without doubt disgusting to look at, but really were quite tasty. Tori ate with gusto, and was mildly disappointed when Bernard dug in without so much as twitching an eyelid. Oh, well, she thought. There's plenty more to come.
All the sushi she had ordered was food for which, after a long time, one might possibly acquire a taste. It was true that many Japanese themselves did not care for sea urchin. But to impress Westerners as well as to prove their superiority and separate-ness, they ate it anyway, pretending to savor its strong rancid taste.
To her dismay, Bernard tackled the sushi with a good deal of aplomb. He even asked for more marinated ginger and wasabi, the fiery green horseradish.
"I once read a report," he told her, "that said this ginger was a natural protection from any nasty microorganisms that might be in the raw fish. Had you heard that also?"
Tori said she hadn't.
The fugu came, and Tori told him what it was. Bernard looked at the fish, shrugged, ate it. When they were both finished with their food, and Tori ordered their sixth bottle of sake, Bernard said, "Tell me, young lady, how did I do?"
"Pardon me?"
"How did I do on the test you just gave me?" he said patiently. "Did I pass?"
Tori looked at him for a moment, then laughed until the tears came to her eyes. "Jesus Christ," she said, wiping at her eyes, ''you really are the limit."
"Funny," Bernard Godwin said with a serious face, "that was just what I was thinking about you."
Tori took him back to her apartment, a tiny place in an ugly, colorless building that looked like a cracker box stood on end. But inside it was comfortable, if cramped.
Bernard seemed content to settle in. He was an exceedingly magnetic man, for he carried with him a singular kind of power. He reminded her of images she had seen of Julius Caesar: the planular face, dominated by the long patrician nose, the prominent chin, the commander's eyes, so full of good humor as well as power. It was a good face, strong and at the same time gentle. It was a glyph which, if you read it correctly, seemed to say, If you are my friend, I will take care of you forever, but if you are my enemy, I will take you down in such a way that you will not even know it's happening. Much later she would come to see the guile, lurking like a pike in deep water, behind his bright blue eyes.
Tori got a couple of Kirin beers from the half refrigerator, opened them, handed him one. She liked that Bernard was comfortable drinking it from the bottle. He was dressed in a pair of dark blue trousers, a polo shirt of the same color, and a handsome jacket of soft chocolate-colored lambskin. He wore highly polished John Lobb stalking shoes that made no sound when he walked.
Tori liked the way he moved-not quickly, but lithely, with a sense of purpose always. His were not the mannerisms of a young man, but they certainly weren't the mannerisms of an old man, either. Far from it. Bernard Godwin had obviously put his years to good use, learning as he went, from many sources. Tori found this interesting. In fact, she found Bernard Godwin altogether fascinating, but after the incident in the fugu restaurant when he had so effortlessly seen through her, she was careful not to let him know this. He wanted something from her. She thought that the chances were good that he would get it, but it was she who wanted to set the price.
"You said something about a proposition," Tori said, flopping down beside Bernard Godwin on the rolled-up futon she slept on that doubled as a sofa.
"Yes, indeed." Bernard had stretched out his long legs, crossing them at the ankles. His eyes were hooded, as if the sake was finally catching up to him or he had passed his bedtime. "This is something I've no doubt will pique your interest."
"First I'd like to know how you heard about me."
Bernard took a sip of the Kirin. ''The Yakuza might call you the Wild
All the sushi she had ordered was food for which, after a long time, one might possibly acquire a taste. It was true that many Japanese themselves did not care for sea urchin. But to impress Westerners as well as to prove their superiority and separate-ness, they ate it anyway, pretending to savor its strong rancid taste.
To her dismay, Bernard tackled the sushi with a good deal of aplomb. He even asked for more marinated ginger and wasabi, the fiery green horseradish.
"I once read a report," he told her, "that said this ginger was a natural protection from any nasty microorganisms that might be in the raw fish. Had you heard that also?"
Tori said she hadn't.
The fugu came, and Tori told him what it was. Bernard looked at the fish, shrugged, ate it. When they were both finished with their food, and Tori ordered their sixth bottle of sake, Bernard said, "Tell me, young lady, how did I do?"
"Pardon me?"
"How did I do on the test you just gave me?" he said patiently. "Did I pass?"
Tori looked at him for a moment, then laughed until the tears came to her eyes. "Jesus Christ," she said, wiping at her eyes, ''you really are the limit."
"Funny," Bernard Godwin said with a serious face, "that was just what I was thinking about you."
Tori took him back to her apartment, a tiny place in an ugly, colorless building that looked like a cracker box stood on end. But inside it was comfortable, if cramped.
Bernard seemed content to settle in. He was an exceedingly magnetic man, for he carried with him a singular kind of power. He reminded her of images she had seen of Julius Caesar: the planular face, dominated by the long patrician nose, the prominent chin, the commander's eyes, so full of good humor as well as power. It was a good face, strong and at the same time gentle. It was a glyph which, if you read it correctly, seemed to say, If you are my friend, I will take care of you forever, but if you are my enemy, I will take you down in such a way that you will not even know it's happening. Much later she would come to see the guile, lurking like a pike in deep water, behind his bright blue eyes.
Tori got a couple of Kirin beers from the half refrigerator, opened them, handed him one. She liked that Bernard was comfortable drinking it from the bottle. He was dressed in a pair of dark blue trousers, a polo shirt of the same color, and a handsome jacket of soft chocolate-colored lambskin. He wore highly polished John Lobb stalking shoes that made no sound when he walked.
Tori liked the way he moved-not quickly, but lithely, with a sense of purpose always. His were not the mannerisms of a young man, but they certainly weren't the mannerisms of an old man, either. Far from it. Bernard Godwin had obviously put his years to good use, learning as he went, from many sources. Tori found this interesting. In fact, she found Bernard Godwin altogether fascinating, but after the incident in the fugu restaurant when he had so effortlessly seen through her, she was careful not to let him know this. He wanted something from her. She thought that the chances were good that he would get it, but it was she who wanted to set the price.
"You said something about a proposition," Tori said, flopping down beside Bernard Godwin on the rolled-up futon she slept on that doubled as a sofa.
"Yes, indeed." Bernard had stretched out his long legs, crossing them at the ankles. His eyes were hooded, as if the sake was finally catching up to him or he had passed his bedtime. "This is something I've no doubt will pique your interest."
"First I'd like to know how you heard about me."
Bernard took a sip of the Kirin. ''The Yakuza might call you the Wild
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