Mrs. Urawa was wearing kimono, white, with a single large red rose on the back. He remembered it; it was the same as she had worn on the day of her husband's funeral, when the Younts and the news cameras had intruded. Fine chose not to remark on that.

There was no official representative of the government . . . but there was Mr. Hino, and Michael was aware that he was someone with real power. <Almost a relative> had been one of Michael's first thoughts. There was also the retired police commander, but she was also the aunt of the police captain's wife; it was not necessarily significant that she was here in her niece's home.

It was late. Late enough for the children to be in bed, and late enough for the born-again pickets to have gone home to bed themselves. And, of course, late enough for him to have slipped into the home with a reasonable chance of not being seen by anyone who might connect him with the Reverend.

One thing he had expected to find and had not was another attorney, someone to represent Mrs. Urawa. But, no, there wasn't one. Fine decided against remarking on that, too.

Hino spoke first. "What is your holy man offering us, Mr. Fine?"

"What the Reverend offers, Mrs. Urawa, is his help in ending this as painlessly as possible. You must realize, you are in violation of the laws of the United States. When you took the Yount children illegally out of the United States, this became a criminal matter. Now, because the government of Japan is refusing to cooperate satisfactorily, it has become an international matter. Relations are strained, and getting worse every day you keep the Yount children away from their parents."

"Relations are strained because you make them strained," said Hino. "Your Reverend is riding on the backs of these children. But he may be riding toward places he did not plan to go."

"Perhaps," allowed Michael Fine. Mrs. Urawa wasn't looking at him, or Mr. Hino, but she was listening. "You sound as if you might think you know where those places are, Mr. Hino."

"It is possible I do, Mr. Fine," said Hino. "One of the places might be where the Americans would learn more of the true nature of Mrs. Yount."

"The only part of the nature of Mrs. Yount that is relevant is that she is the birth mother of these children and that she has a legal and a moral right to have them in her custody." He noticed that Mrs. Urawa's expression tightened, but she still said nothing."

"That may be true in your world of laws, Mr. Fine. But it is not true in others. For instance, in the world of politics. I know something of this world, Mr. Fine. Perhaps I know more than you or your Reverend Mr. Swainson. Certainly more about the world of politics here in Japan. But politics cannot be that different in the United States. Your Reverend has many believers. But there are many who do not care for him. Most, I think, have not taken much notice of him, although more and more are now. It might have regrettable consequences if the things that most of your people know him for are handing over children into the hands of a madwoman, and . . . "

"And what?"

Before Hino completed his ellipsis (if he really had any intention of doing more than bluffing) Mrs. Urawa finally spoke up. "Please, stop."

"Mrs. Urawa?"

"If my consent matters, I won't give it unless I meet their mother. She must come here to Japan. If she cannot afford it, and no one will help her, I have friends who can bring her here."

"Mrs. Urawa, I'm afraid your consent doesn't have any legal status."

"Really, Mr. Fine?" said Hino, the fixer. "Urawa-san is a citizen of Japan."

"But the Yount children—"

"Are children who have long been in the legal custody of Japanese citizens as minors. As such, they already have a claim to being citizens of Japan. Japan has a long tradition of adoption, Mr. Fine. I think, Mr. Fine, you should consider Urawa-san's kind offer once more."

"I am merely telling you what you can realistically expect from my clients." He shrugged. "I will ask, again. But I don't think it will be productive. And I must warn you, we have learned some things which could weaken your case seriously."

Fine hated himself, seeing in Mrs. Urawa that she must have guessed.

"And what could those things be, Mr. Fine?" said Hino. Somehow he conveyed exquisite courtesy and a touch of menace at the same time.

Fine delivered the torpedoes Patterson had provided, directing them at Hino, perhaps because he couldn't face Mrs. Urawa. "We have evidence that Mrs. Urawa was involved with prostitution and youth gangs. And we have found some rather interesting connections between some of Mrs. Urawa's friends and something called the Servants of Pharoah Ninety. If you persist in slandering the Younts as religious fanatics and unfit parents, then the Younts and their friends will return the favor. I really don't want that to happen." <That last part was sure true . . . >

Old Hino was still in control, but more anger was showing. "Then I suggest you tell your Reverend to hire more lawyers in Japan, and more accountants. I foresee rigorous investigation of his activities here, including a very meticulous examination of all financial transactions."

Fine turned his gaze away from Hino to Mrs. Urawa. She kept her head down, but her eyes flicked up toward him. And then—

The room was lit by two lamps. They brightened for an instant, and then were two loud pops. The room was suddenly dark, filled with the sharp sting-smell of ozone. For an instant, he thought he saw something glowing where Mrs. Urawa had been sitting, but he had looked away as the lights exploded, and it had to be an after-image, or just a sudden trick of light . . . had to be. But something was odd . . . What? . . . The room was quiet. The police captain, his wife, the retired commander--they had stayed out of the exchange, and they said nothing now. They did nothing, either, except that the Fine saw the captain's hand move onto his wife's arm as his eyes adjusted to the weak light provided by the windows.

Mrs. Urawa spoke. "If the Reverend wants so very much to bring the Younts together with the children, let him bring them here, Mr. Fine."

"So you don't think she will back down, Mr. Fine?" said the Reverend John Lee Swainson.

"No. She won't. As I warned you, threatening to expose her past was a mistake."

"And she wasn't affected when you brought up that Pharoah Ninety business?"

"I don't think so."

"And Mr. Hino?"

"If he was surprised, he didn't show it. I don't think he was simulating anger. If his control is that good . . . "

" . . . then he should be running Japan. I think there might be some truth in that. In as far as anyone runs that mysterious land of which we know nothing."

<Can he really do it?> Fine wondered. By whatever means, the Reverend had come fairly close to finishing his thought. He paused to water his dry throat. Meantime, the Reverend sipped at his coffee. Probably it was just coffee; the housekeeper had brought it, and she didn't strike Fine as someone who would fortify it with brandy without at least a worried look.

"Well, I guess I'll have to find some time to visit Mrs. Urawa, then."

"You mean, go with the Younts, or meet with her alone?"

"With the Younts, of course. We can't pass up a chance for Mr. and Mrs. Yount to be with their children." Swainson swiveled in his chair. He hadn't been looking at Fine, but he'd been facing him; now he turned aside, leaned back, and seemed to look into the distance. "I'd like you to look in on my daughter, Mr. Fine. As soon as you can."

"Of course," Fine said carefully. "Is there something special you want to know?"

"I want you to tell me if she seems any better to you now," drawled Swainson.

"I see," said Fine slowly. "I've been looking at her reports, of course, and I have talked to her by phone several times. But Dr. Watanabe should be reporting to you."

"He has been. But I want you to look at her, Michael. Look at her, talk to her, then tell me what you think."

<I think you made a mistake, Johnny Lee. But you damn well know that . . .>

Swainson worked some more on his coffee, and then said, "Go on, go. Get a flight out tonight if you can. You can take your time when you get there, but I want you there, and I want her to know you're there."

Dr. Watanabe wasn't anxious to talk to Michael Fine about his patient. "Confidentiality isn't just for lawyers, Mr. Fine."

"I do represent her father, Doctor."

"Yes, but you are not her father yourself. And even if you were," said the doctor, tapping idly on his fish tank to attract his pets, "There are still things I wouldn't reveal."

"What can you tell me?" he asked the psychiatrist. He had a good reputation in Boston, which was why he had picked him out: Someone the family knew of and vouched for. And, also, he wasn't really a part of the California mental-health community, not yet; less chance some gossip would slip from his lips. "Reverend Swainson wants me to see how she is coping here. I'll be seeing her. Can you tell me anything that might help?"

Watanabe tapped for a few more moments before turning back to Fine. "You seem to be a surprisingly important person to her, Mr. Fine. She thinks you would like to help her, if you are allowed to."

Fine nodded. "That's basically how I feel. And while I can't by any means guarantee that Reverend Swainson will take my advice about her, he does listen to it. So if you have anything you would especially like to bring to his attention, perhaps you should tell me."

Watanabe narrowed his eyes, clearly thinking about what he was going to say next. Which was: "Ms. Beringer--she prefers to use that name with me--has told me some remarkable things."

"About her friends at school?"

Watanabe said, "In a way. But the most remarkable things she has told me are about her father."

Fine said, "They don't get along very well. I do advise him to visit her, but he seems to always find something else he must do instead."

"So he has sent you to look in on her now. You feel he is concerned. And yet not concerned enough to come himself."

"Maybe he's talking to his psychiatrist about that," said Fine.

"He has a therapist?" said Watanabe, eyes widening, body shifting forward.

"Yes."

"I don't suppose you know who."

"No," said Fine.

Watanabe sat back, eyes narrowing again.

"Do you think my visit will help or hurt her?"

Watanabe said, "That depends on whether you want to be her friend or her father's agent."

"I want to be as much a friend as I can be."

"Yes," said Watanabe. "Yes . . . "

The interphone lit up in some special way, and Watanabe talked with his receptionist for a moment, and then talked with someone in Spanish. When he was finished, he set down the receiver and stared at it for a silent moment, and then looked up at Fine. "I've got to get myself over to Oakland. As for you and Ms. Beringer . . . follow your conscience, Mr. Fine." Then he got up and whisked Fine out ahead of himself.