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The old man moved gracefully across the gym floor from one stance to another, from one black belt form to the next. The pain Grandmaster Lee felt in his joints tried to pry its way into his thoughts but he forced it back, ignoring it as he always did. Others were unaware that he experienced pain just like they did. No one had ever seen him wince, even the time he broke his hand during a demonstration. He simply took aim again and hit the concrete blocks in front of him harder. He rarely failed to execute a break and it momentarily surprised him. On his second attempt the concrete exploded into rubble. He'd continued the fund-raising demonstration which lasted more than an hour longer during which he faced an unrehearsed attack from five of his senior students, defeating them all. Following the demonstration his students noticed his hand had swollen to several times its usual size and his fingers had turned black and blue. Master Lee allowed them to touch and inspect it, never showing any indication that the hand caused him any discomfort. He had politely refused medical attention, preferring to treat it himself at home. His students still talk about how the hand had seemed to heal completely within the week.

The watchdog barked twice as Skipper pulled into Master Lee's driveway. Skipper shut down the GT40 and let himself into the backyard through the gate where the dog was now wagging his tail and waiting for Skipper to pat his head. Skipper was the only person the dog allowed in the yard other than the Master's immediate family.

"How you doin' fella!" he said softly as he reached out and ruffled the dog's fur behind his ears. "Gotta go, boy. Gotta see Master Lee." The dog watched Skipper walking away; took a tentative step as if to follow, then turned and lay down at his post near the gate.

At the door to the private gym in the back of Master Lee's home Skipper saluted the flags, entered and removed his shoes. He waited patiently just inside the door, standing casually, watching his mentor go through the remainder of his personal practice. Master Lee had heard him arrive and knew it was Skipper before the car had rolled to a stop in the driveway. No indication of this recognition appeared on his face nor did he acknowledge Skipper's presence. In this instance his lack of recognition was a sign of great honor. No other person was ever allowed to watch the master's private practice.

Skipper recognized the form his Master had just begun as Ilyo, the ninth and final Taekwondo black belt form. The workout was almost over. As he watched Master Lee moving through the stances of the form he thought surely this man came as close as possible to achieving the meaning of the form. Ilyo means "Oneness." The final goal of Taekwondo is achieving a state of discipline in which the practitioner is able to concentrate his attention completely on the movement and his inner self, shaking off all worldly thought and obsessions, to be at one with his art.

The old man came to a stop facing the flags. His gaze was fixed on an imaginary point in space, his body erect and ramrod straight. His feet were together and his left hand covered his right fist which was held just below his chin and several inches out from his chest. Slowly, he moved to the position of attention, bowed to the flags, then turned to Skipper. They bowed in unison.

"Have you eaten, Skipper?"

"No, Master Lee. May I get you breakfast?" Skipper knew Master Lee wouldn't hear of him lifting a finger while in his home but the offer was made as a sign of respect and the Master was proud of his senior student.

"Mrs. Lee has prepared breakfast for both of us. Shall we go into the house?"

Though Skipper hadn't been expected Mrs. Lee had indeed set out a breakfast of fruit, rice and kimchee for her husband and his guest. She greeted the two men at the door with a bow, then retired to another part of the house.

After discussing the matter with Skipper, then thinking it through once again, Master Lee suggested that even though it wasn't much to go on perhaps Arnburg's training in Japanese martial arts offered a place to begin. Skipper had recalled that one of the men was alleged to have studied one of the arts in Japan although the stories were confusing and he couldn't remember which martial art it had been. Master Lee decided that a call to an old acquaintance in Japan, Sensei Mashuta, might be of value.

Though the peoples of Korea and Japan have been historically at odds with one another for centuries, these two men had begun to develop a mutual respect for one another when they'd met long ago while each was in the military of their respective country and under circumstances that neither would discuss with any outsider to this day. Since then they had followed each other's careers through word of mouth, articles in martial arts publications and reputation - and occasional letters and phone calls. Each viewed his respective discipline more as an art form bordering on religion than a money-making proposition and they were alike in many other ways as well.

Looking at the clock on his mantle Master Lee decided he would risk awakening his counterpart in Japan. Skipper indicated this matter was of the utmost urgency and Master Lee knew him well enough to know Skipper didn't excite easily. The situation must be of great consequence. He returned to his dojang and private office in the back of the house to place the call. He also placed calls to other martial arts acquaintances throughout the Orient; inquiring, as Skipper had suggested, about anything unusual and extremely expensive for sale on the black market and/or any information about two men named Arnburg and Peterson. Skipper described their appearance as best he could remember them.

For his part Skipper headed home. He had a few other contacts to make before beginning his own morning workout.

It was late afternoon when Skipper received a call on his cellular phone from Master Lee. "I have received word from Sensei Mashuta in Japan. He has learned of a Korean gentleman who is in Tokyo looking for two Americans named Arnburg and Peterson. This man also heard they are attempting to locate him. I would suggest, Skipper, that you go to Tokyo if you wish to find them. I will arrange assistance for you in Tokyo if possible."

Skipper thanked Master Lee and headed home to pack. At home he added a few items to his traveling gear which he always kept ready to go.

Patti should be getting home from her office about then so Skipper called. She answered the phone on the first ring.

"Hi, Skipper. What's up? I just walked in the door."

"I have to go to Japan for a few days to follow up a lead on Bert's case. I'll be leaving in just a few minutes."

"Wow, sounds like fun!" Then a serious note entered her voice. "Will it be dangerous?"

"Driving LA freeways is probably more dangerous than anything I'll run into in Japan," he said chuckling. "Listen, while I'm gone would you stay here at my place and feed the gold fish?"

"Skipper Mason, you don't have any gold fish in that swimming pool you call an aquarium. Gold fish don't like salt water," she said jokingly.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. Will you stay here anyway? I'd feel better."

"Okay. But you've got to promise me you won't bring home any geisha girls," she laughed.

"Patti! You know I'd ask you first. -- But, don't you like music and poetry? Oh. You're talking about 'Pillow girls'. Geishas are highly trained entertainers and companions, not courtesans. Pillow girls, on the other hand, are--"

"Whatever!" she laughed, "I get the message." More seriously she added, "Is there anything special you need done while you're gone?"

"No, nothing special. You just take care of yourself, okay?"

"Okay. You, too, Skipper. I'll miss you."

"Me, too, hon. Bye."

Skipper made a few more calls on his way to the airport. It appeared fortune was smiling on him. Later he might think differently.