Terry held up the razor. "All right, fatty, let's be having you."

"What about me then, you bastard?" Dillon said, and as Terry turned, gave him a punch in the mouth, summoning all his remaining strength.

Terry lay on the pavement, cursing, blood on his mouth, and Yuan Tao stamped on his hand and kicked the razor away. A van turned into the street and braked to a halt. As the chef got out, the two waiters came 'round the corner holding the man who had run away.

"I'd tell them to leave him in one piece," Dillon said in Cantonese. "You'll need him to drive this lot away."

"An excellent point," Yuan Tao said. "At least you are still in one piece."

"Only just. I'm beginning to see why your niece was annoyed. Presumably you were actually hoping McGuire would show up?"

"I flew in especially from Hong Kong for the pleasure. Su Yin, my niece, cabled for my help. A matter of family. It was difficult for me to get away. I was at a retreat at one of our monasteries."

"Monasteries?" Dillon asked.

"I should explain, Mr. Dillon, I am a Shaolin monk, if you know what that is."

Dillon laughed shakily. "I certainly do. If only McGuire had. It means, I suspect, that you're an expert in kung fu?"

"Darkmaster, Mr. Dillon, our most extreme grade. I have studied all my life. I think I shall stay for two or three weeks to make sure there is no more trouble."

"I shouldn't worry, I think they'll have got the point."

McGuire, Terry, and one of the blacks still lay on the pavement and the chef and two waiters brought the fourth man forward. Yuan Tao went and spoke to them in Cantonese and then returned. "They'll deal with things here. Su Yin is waiting in her car at the restaurant."

They walked back, turned the corner, and found a dark sedan parked under the Red Dragon. As they approached she got out and, ignoring her uncle, said to Dillon in Cantonese, "Are you all right?"

"I am now."

"I am sorry for my behavior." She bowed. "I deserve punishment as my honorable uncle pointed out. Please forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive," Dillon told her and from the direction of the river a scream sounded.

She turned to her uncle. "What was that?"

"The little worm with the white hair, the one who shamed you before us, I told them to cut off his right ear."

Su Yin's face didn't alter. "I thank you, Uncle." She bowed again, then turned to Dillon. "You will come with us now, Mr. Dillon," and this time she spoke in English.

"Girl dear, I wouldn't miss it for the world," he said and got in the back of the car. • • • "If you have studied judo or karate you will have heard of kiai, the power that makes a man perform miracles of strength and force. Only the greatest of masters acquire this and only after years of training and discipline, both mental and physical."

"Well you certainly have it," Dillon said. "I can still see that steel bar bounce off your arm."

He was immersed to his neck in a bath of water so hot that sweat ran down his face. Yuan Tao squatted against the wall in an old robe and peered at him through the steam.

Dillon carried on, "Once in Japan I was taken to see an old man of eighty, a Zen priest with arms like sticks. I think he might have weighed seven stone. He remained seated while two karate black belts repeatedly attacked him."

"And?"

"He threw them effortlessly. I was told later that his power sprang from what they called the tanden, or second brain."

"Which can only be developed by years of meditation. All this is a development of the ancient Chinese art of Shaolin Temple Boxing. It came from India in the sixth century with Zen Buddhism and was developed by the monks of Shaolin Temple in Hohan province."

"Isn't that a rough game for priests? I mean, I had an uncle, a Catholic priest, who taught me bareknuckle boxing as a boy and him a prize fighter as a younger man, but this…"

"We have a saying. A man avoids warfare only by being prepared for it. The monks learned that lesson. Centuries ago members of my family learned the art and passed it down. Over the centuries my ancestors fought evildoers on behalf of the poor, even the forces of the Emperor when necessary. We served our society."

"Are you talking of the Triad Society here?" Dillon asked. "I thought they were simply a kind of Chinese version of the Mafia."

"Like the Mafia, they started as secret societies to protect the poor against the rich landowners and like the Mafia they have become corrupted over the years, but not all."

"I've read something about this," Dillon said. "Are you telling me you are a Triad?"

"Like my forefathers before me I am a member of the Secret Breath, the oldest of all, founded in Hohan in the sixteenth century. Unlike others, my society has not been corrupted. I am a Shaolin monk, I also have business interests, there is nothing wrong in that, but I will stand aside for no man."

"So all this and your fighting ability has been handed down?"

"Of course. There are many methods, many schools, but without ch'i they are nothing."

"And what would that be?"

"A special energy. When accumulated just below the navel, it has an elemental force which is infinitely greater than physical force alone. It means that a fist is simply a focusing agent. There is no need for the tremendous punches used by Western boxers. I strike from only a few inches away, screwing my fist on impact. The result may be a ruptured spleen or broken bones."

"I can believe that, but deflecting that steel bar with your arm. How do you do that?"

"Practice, Mr. Dillon, fifty years of practice."

"I haven't got that long." Dillon stood up and Yuan Tao passed him a towel.

"One may accomplish miracles in a matter of weeks with discipline and application, and with a man like you I doubt whether one would be starting from scratch. There are scars from knife wounds in your back and that is an old bullet wound in the left shoulder and then there was the gun." He shrugged. "No ordinary man."

"I was stabbed in the back fairly recently," Dillon told him. "They saved me with two operations, but it poisoned my system."

"And your occupation?"

"I worked for British Intelligence. They threw me out this morning, said I wasn't up to it anymore."

"Then they are wrong."

There was a pause and Dillon said, "Are you saying you'll take me on?"

"I owe you a debt, Mr. Dillon."

"Come off it, you didn't need me. I interfered."

"But you didn't know you were interfering and that makes a difference. It is a man's intentions which are important." Yuan Tao smiled. "Wouldn't you like to prove your people wrong?"

"By God and I would so," Dillon said, and then he hesitated as Yuan Tao handed him a robe. "I'd prefer honesty between us from the beginning."

"So?"

Dillon stood up and pulled on the robe. "I was for years a member of the Provisional IRA and high on the most wanted list of the Royal Ulster Constabulary and British Intelligence."

"And yet worked for the British."

"Yes, well, I didn't have much choice at first."

"But now something has changed inside your head?"

Dillon grinned. "Is there nothing you don't know? Anyway, does it make a difference?"

"Why should it? From the way you struck one of those men tonight, I think you have studied karate."

"Some, but no big deal. Brown belt and working for black, then I ran out of time."

"This is good. I think we can accomplish a great deal. But now we will eat. Flesh on your bones again."

He led the way along a corridor to a sitting room furnished in a mixture of European and Chinese styles. Su Yin sat by the fire reading a book and wearing a black silk trouser suit.

"I have news, niece," Yuan Tao said as she got up. "Mr. Dillon is to spend three weeks as our guest. This will not inconvenience you?"