Linnear 03 - White Ninja by Eric van Lustbader

Author:Eric van Lustbader [Lustbader, Eric van]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Action & Adventure
ISBN: 9780345466778
Publisher: Fawcett
Published: 1990-01-01T13:30:00+00:00

'No,' Branding said firmly. 'It's the product of one man's sick mind, that's all.'

To contemplate such a thing, Shisei knew, was to look into an abyss beyond understanding. It was to contemplate the thought that her life was a hideous parody, warped beyond all comprehension. The product, yes, of one man's mind.

'Cook,' she gasped suddenly, 'I want to be with you tonight. I cannot stand the thought of being alone. Take me to the dinner with you.'

Branding looked at her. He had been certain that knowing the origin of the spider tattoo would unlock for him the mysteries of this fascinating, enigmatic woman. But now he became aware of the many layers of mystery that overlaid Shisei's personality. Perhaps he would never be able to understand her fully, but that knowledge only drew him on, a seductive siren's song as ancient, as irresistible as the one that had lured Odysseus.

'Oh, God, Cook!' Shisei was crying.

Nicholas thought, I have dreamt it all: my rescue, the warm house, Kansatsu-san. Panic gripped him in its icy fist, and he shuddered. A blast of wind hit him full on, and his rear foot slipped off the rock groove. He could feel his position deteriorating. If he fell off the Black Gendarme he had no way of knowing how far he would drop. Mist occluded his vision. He could not see Kansatsu's stone house built into the side of the rock. There was no trace of Kansatsu himself, and Nicholas was frightened that the bone-chilling cold had combined with his deteriorating condition to make him delirious. In that case, there was no Kansatsu, no warm house on the mountainside that would provide him with shelter, no salvation from Shiro Ninja.

Falling, endlessly falling...

Desperately he reached up, feeling with his fingertips for purchase, but the rock had turned to glass. He encountered only layers of black ice which, indifferent to his plight, shrugged off his grip.

He could not see: snow, lying long in the dark hollows of the Black Gendarme, swirled up by the wind, blinding him. He could not hear: the howling of the wind in the crags was incessant. He could not feel: the cold penetrated his gloves, numbing his fingertips. In the thin, frigid air he could smell nothing, not even himself or the matted fur collar of his parka. He opened his mouth, put his lips against the stone, trying to taste the minerals which would tell him where the Black Gendarme was the most solid, where there were dangerous fissures that might crack beneath his weight. He-stroked on the dark granite but he could taste nothing. Now, with Shiro Ninja blocking his sixth sense, he was truly defenceless.

He clung to the rock face like a fly on a window-pane, with a blind tenacity that came solely from instinct. But the

wind was increasing in intensity, its gusts raging, scouring all in its path. His foot slipped again and be almost pitched headfirst into the abyss. It was at precisely that instant, with the sensation of being jerked awake, that Nicholas knew that he was not ready to give up.

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