"Where have you got your gun?" he asked. "It won't be any good to you now, and I'd like to have it for a moment. Is it in the hamper or do you keep it on your body?"
She didn't reply and he rummaged about. The hamper contained six plastic boxes, all neatly closed, and a thermos flask in its own compartment. The pistol was stuck between the boxes, hidden under a folded tea-cloth. He took it out and pressed the spring that held its clip. He could only use his left hand but he managed, taking his time. He transferred the clip to his right hand and released the six cartridges, making them jump over the side. Holding the tiller in his armpit and securing the jib-and-mainsail sheets to a large cleat attached to the centerboard case, he opened the gun's breach, but there was no cartridge in the chamber. He pushed the empty clip back and offered her the gun. She was looking away.
"Take it, Yuiko-san," he said gently. "It's a good pistol and you don't want to lose it. A Browning is worth three hundred dollars these days and this is a special model. I don't want to throw it overboard, I just don't want to get shot today."
She was crying and he put the pistol back into the hamper, flipping the lid down. They were traveling at such speed that the harbor behind them had changed into a few dots on the shoreline, and the masts of the moored yachts into a row of bristling hairs. Soon there would be nothing but water around them and he realized that he might have difficulty in finding his way back. He looked at the sun and checked the time. He had seen a chart in the storage space aft and he pulled it out. The buoys were indicated clearly and he compared their numbers and colors with the buoy he had just passed and the buoy which was coming close.
"Yuiko-san," he said softly, touching her shoulder. She turned around and faced him. Her cheeks were wet but she had stopped crying. "Don't be silly," he said. "You know what I am and I know what you are. We are on different sides of the line. I am a yakusa too, but I have another daimyo. Your boss and mine are at odds, so we are enemies. So what? We are sailing a fast boat on a beautiful lake. Why don't you cheer up? That's a good lunch in the hamper, and the daimyo or the man in the bar will give you new cartridges for your gun. Nobody is going to be angry with you. You have done your duty, you lured me out on Lake Biwa. And I came. I am stupid, but my stupidity is my own concern, not yours."
She laughed, rubbing her eyes. "You are not stupid. I knew it when I met you first in the bar. You are playing your own game and so far you haven't lost. It's just that I am frightened of water. I have never liked boats. It was the daimyo's idea and I couldn't refuse, but I feel as if I were in hell. The water is threatening me."
"The water is carrying us," de Gier said. "Can't you feel it? It is protecting us, the way a cradle protects a baby."
He pushed the tiller a little and shortened the sheet. The cutter behaved well as she turned to windward, and he sat on the side, motioning Yuiko to do the same. The boat heeled again, but Yuiko seemed to trust him now, and she was beginning to look about her. Within an hour she was ready to learn and he instructed her about the handling of the jib sheet.
He made the cutter come about, pushing Yuiko's head down to keep it free from the boom, and she caught on and responded to his shouted warning when he repeated the maneuver a few minutes later. They were close to the land again, a few miles north of the harbor, and the wind had lost some of its strength, being hampered by hills and forests on its way down to the lake.
"What's up?" he asked, giving her a cigarette and his lighter. "Are we going to be attacked on the lake somewhere? Is Kono around?"
"I don't know. I was told to go sailing with you. They never tell me exactly what will happen, I am not important."
She had trouble with the lighter and he took it back. He lit a cigarette between his shirt and his jacket and gave it to her.
"Do you think the daimyo is up to his tricks again?"
"Could be," she said, sucking the smoke hungrily. "The manager of the Golden Dragon gave me the message. He was upset. We have lost face. I heard them talk about you in the bar. Somebody came to tell us that you were around, buying art. They were sure they could frighten you away easily; they have done it so often to others. The daimyo happened to be in Kyoto and he came to the Golden Dragon and he thought of the game with the mask. A sculptor, he comes to the bar often- he drinks a lot but he is very good-was asked to make the mask. I think the sculptor was taken to your inn and he saw your friend, the old gentleman. He made the mask immediately, working from a sketch."
"Yes," de Gier said. "It was very effective apparently."
"But it didn't stop you. We heard about you playing your flute. They thought you were invincible after that, so Kono was asked to take care of you. Kono likes firearms. Sometimes he kills people, but not very often, the daimyo doesn't like it."
De Gier turned to look into her face. "I don't like Kono. If he had made my boss wound himself, I would have gone after him."
She shrugged. "Kono wouldn't have minded that. He loves fights and guns and racing cars. He is old-fashioned; he has pictures of the famous samurai in his house and he reads stories about them. The daimyo calls him his little boy, but they are of the same age. They say that Kono cried when he came home."
"Because of his hand?"
"No. He had lost face, but maybe he is a good loser. He said your boss was a great man."
"Pity," de Gier said, "so maybe we shouldn't have a fight, just to annoy him. And now he is somewhere around, I suppose, but what does he plan to do this time? Make me cut off my own ears and eat them?"
She laughed. "No. But he may want to kill you now. If he does he will make it look like an accident, I think."
"Thanks for telling me."
"You should be a little careful today," Yuiko said, avoiding his eyes and pretending she was interested in the jib sheet which was pulling at her hands.
"Make it fast," de Gier said. "There's a cleat over there. Just wind the sheet round it once; if there's a lot of wind you can pull it free. I hope Kono comes. I'm not alone anyway. Dorin is on the lake too, and I don't think he is alone. We are not as silly as we look. I wouldn't be surprised if Dorin has a machine gun on his boat, or a grenade thrower. We could have a proper battle. Dorin is like Kono; he likes to fight and he likes to do things in a big way."
"Dorin," she said. "That isn't a Japanese name. I saw a photograph of your friend; one of our boys took it near the inn you are staying at. He is Japanese. We have been trying to find out something about him, but I don't think we have had results. They say he speaks with a Tokyo accent and that he behaves like a nisei, a Japanese born abroad. Who is he?"
De Gier made a vague gesture. "Don't know. My boss found him through his Hong Kong contacts. I think he had his own operation, but something went wrong and now he works for others. Maybe he'll join us. He is very good, I think. I'd like to work with him. He can be our permanent agent here as far as I'm concerned, but I don't know what my boss thinks. He hasn't told me yet."
She nodded. "He must be good. He certainly got you the right contacts here. You've bought a lot of merchandise."
De Gier was comparing a buoy number with a point on his chart and hadn't been listening. She repeated her remark.
"Sure," he said. "The stuff should be easy to sell when we get home, or so the boss says. I don't know about art, it's not my job. I'm supposed to look after the old man."
"So you leave him all alone in the inn," she said reproachfully.
De Gier grinned. "He'll be fine, I think. He is probably soaking his skin in the bathhouse right now." He looked at his watch. "Time to eat, Yuiko-san, where are we going to do it?"
"I was told to take you to the island with the orange torii. It's north of the harbor. Maybe it is the island over there, can I see the chart please?"