第74节

hed him.

Nakane Toh-Shiba was above average height for an Iron Master and, while

not exactly fat, was quite heavily built. The broad-shouldered, padded

kimono he was wearing made it hard to gauge his physique accurately,

but he had plump short fingers and a pudgy face. Steve, who had been

studying his target out of the corner of his eyes, decided the

Consul-General looked pampered and overfed.

Despite his bulk, Toh-Shiba was light on his feet and moved with regal

assurance - as well he might. Like all of the high ranking Japs, he

wore a wig of Mute hair with the usual samurai top-knot, and he had a

small funny-looking hat perched on the front of his head. Since Steve

had never seen one like it during his travels he concluded it must

signify Toh-Shiba's rank - which it did.

The Consul-General's party turned towards the line of kneeling

roadrunners.

This is it! thought Steve. But it wasn't. He waited until the last

moment before putting his nose on the mat, but Toh-Shiba strode past

followed by his samurai-bodyguard and the postmaster.

Shrill, simultaneous commands from the senior clerks sent the staff

scurrying away to their posts - a move that had already been rehearsed

several times. Steve and the other roadrunners formed their usual line

along the veranda to the left of the post-house door. Thanks to his

position near the end of the line in the yard, this move put Steve

close to the entrance. But once again, in deference to their visitor,

they were required to kneel and touch the floor with their noses as the

Consul-General's party went inside to view the postal clerks going

about their work.

With Toh-Shiba's disappearance, the roadrunners were allowed to sit on

the log bench. Shit! Steve cursed his luck and vented his frustration

by slamming a fist against his open palm. Once again, the fat-fingered

dink had walked past without giving the line of Mutes a second

glance.

So much for Mute magic. If Clearwater had failed to do something as

simple as this, she might not be able to deliver when the real crunch

came. What a pill! And just when he needed to show the Man in Black

he could manage without him!

Within fifteen minutes of entering the post-house, Toh-Shiba - who had

begun to wonder what he was doing there in the first place - had seen

and heard more than enough about the receipt and onward transmission of

private and official documents. The Consul-General did not believe in

cluttering his head with knowledge of procedures that his staff were

expected to know about and deal with.

As a nobleman, Toh-Shiba had never once in his life concerned himself

with the problems of laundering; he merely expected to find a clean set

of clothes laid out for his use whenever they might be required. It

was the same with letters: you ordered them written, applied your seal,

and they were delivered. What happened to them between leaving your

hand and reaching that of the recipient was the concern of lesser

mortals - such as the obsequious, tiresome pip-squeak now hovering at

his elbow.

Toh-Shiba, who had been languidly fanning himself to alleviate the late

summer heat, snapped the fan shut against his left palm; a signal to

his aide-de-camp that he wished to leave - without delay. The samurai

silenced the post-master with a raised hand and announced that the

visit had been most instructive. His master was extremely pleased with

the alertness and dedication of the postal-staff. Et cetera, et

cetera...

The post-master and his clerks hurried on to the veranda, and bowed

Toh-Shiba's party out of the post-house. In doing so, they blocked his

view of the roadrunners, but, as he descended the steps and moved

towards his waiting horse, the Consul-General was aware of something

niggling away inside his brain. It was something he had intended to do

- connected with his visit to the post-house - but for the life of him

he couldn't remember what it was.

The mental pressure to perform some action built up rapidly and was

translated into a stabbing pain.

Toh-Shiba shook his head in an effort to clear it, then mounted his

horse. His samurai guards followed suit, forming up around him with

their colleagues.