overcome your early training."
"How did you learn to overcome yours?" asked Kinoshita.
"Quickly, and under duress," replied Nighthawk. He looked around. "Okay, I think I've been here long enough for word to spread through the District, and they've had time to post men at all fourteen hotels you visited. There's nothing more to be done tonight. We might as well leave."
He laid a few bills on the table, then stood up. Ignoring all the stares, he walked to the airlift, waited for Kinoshita to join him, ascended to ground level, and stepped out.
"I thought we were staying in the building," said Kinoshita.
"We are."
"Then why—?"
"We're supposed to be keeping it a secret. If anyone's watching the airlift mechanism, why let them know? We'll wait here for a couple of minutes, and then go up. If anyone's checking it, they'll think whoever's on it just came in from outside."
You're a remarkable man, thought Kinoshita for the hundredth or the thousandth time. The kid never plans like this, because he doesn't need to. You were as good as he is, and yet you're always planning three steps ahead. Did it start when you came down with the disease, or when age eroded one percent of your skills, or where you always like this? Someday I'd really like to know a little more about the man I've dedicated my life to serving.
When Nighthawk decided that enough time had passed, they entered the airlift again and let it take them up to the third floor of the darkened building. Once the rooms had been offices, but that had been two centuries ago. Now those that weren't eaten by decay were storerooms, filled with contraband items, clearly owned by black marketeers and fences.
Nighthawk walked up and down the corridor, breaking the computer code on each lock and deactivating the various security systems with a skill that surprised Kinoshita, who had thought nothing the Widowmaker did could still surprise him. The older man checked each room, re-activated the security systems, and after he had surveyed all of them he walked back to the third one he'd examined.
"We'll spend the night here," he announced.
"Why this room as opposed to one of the others?" asked Kinoshita.
"There are no windows, so there's only one way in or out," answered Nighthawk. "And whoever owns it is fencing some delicate Jubarian crystal."
"So?"
"If two pieces of the crystal touch each other, they set up a high-pitched vibration that would wake the dead. I'll lay half a dozen pieces where the door will knock them into each other if it opens. We'll sleep behind that partition, which gives us plenty of time to get ready if someone tries to enter the place."
"You think someone will?"
"If I thought they would, I wouldn't have sent you around to all those hotels," said Nighthawk. "But you have to take enough chances in this business; it just makes sense to avoid the ones you don't have to take."
Nighthawk closed and locked the door behind them, positioned the crystal, and walked over to the alcove behind the partition. He lay down on the hardwood floor, pulled his screecher out, placed it next to his head, and was sound asleep a moment later. Look at you, thought Kinoshita. You killed Hairless Jack Bellamy and two others tonight, and tomorrow you're probably going to go up against Cleopatra Rome, and you're sleeping like it was just another day at the office.
Then he noticed the screecher. And you're still the most careful man I know. Even without consciously thinking of it, you never miss even the smallest detail. Anyone else might be sleeping with a burner or a pulse gun out, but you know the building's wood. A laser beam or an energy pulse might set it on fire; a solid burst of sound won't. Young Jeff was the most remarkable specimen I ever saw—but if he ever has to go up against you, I know who I'd put my money on.
Kinoshita was still comparing all the Widowmakers he had known when he fell into a restless sleep.
11.
Kinoshita awoke with a start, and immediately