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'Okay,' Nicholas said. 'Let's go.' He stood up.

'I think,' Nicholas said, 'that we have our man.'

'You just missed him, Abe.' He took a thick cigar stub out of his mouth, used it to point over his shoulder. 'He split.'

'Well, hey, give me this for a sec -' He took the sheaf of paper from Nicholas's grasp, leafed through the accordion sheets. 'Here!' His forefinger stabbed at the sheet. 'Here's his address, 547 hey, wait a minute I That address is too far west. It's a phony!'

'Right. About what happened downstairs.' Nicholas knelt, began to search under the desk. He spoke as he worked. 'I dunk we found our man." Wiring and computer modules. 'The diir-teendi. A man named Richard Yao. He was transferred here from a Rubin Bros site in Brooklyn.' Ridged templates: the

'I think,' Nicholas said, 'that we have our man.'

'What's happening?' Tomkin said.

On the way back up to the top of the tower, he said, 'What do you think, Mr Linnear?'

'Oh, I'd say fifteen maybe twenty minutes ago. Like I said, you just missed him.' He looked at Russd. 'Anything wrong? He's a good worker.'

'Hang up,' Nicholas said. He was circling the desk, probing. His fingertips never left the surface of the oiled wood.

'How long ago did this happen,' Nicholas said.

Tomkin stared down at Nicholas's hands as if they were disembodied entities. He lifted the receiver to his ear, mumbled a few words and hung up.

Nicholas rolled up the paper into a tube. I'm going to see all of these men face to face. Every one's a candidate for our ninja.'

The thirteenth name was Richard Yao. Russo didn't know precisely where he was working at this time of day, so they sought out his unit foreman. They found him supervising the welding going on in one section of the bottom of the atrium lobby. He was a heavy-set man with almost no hair and close-set eyes.

Russo's eyes flickered briefly in Nicholas's direction before he shook his head negatively. "Thanks, Mike. You need another man down here?'

'And no one knows about this?'

'I think,' Nicholas said, 'that we have our man.'

'Hang up,' Nicholas said. He was circling the desk, probing. His fingertips never left the surface of the oiled wood.

'None sick. They're all here as far as I can tell.'

'Well, hey, give me this for a sec -' He took the sheaf of paper from Nicholas's grasp, leafed through the accordion sheets. 'Here!' His forefinger stabbed at the sheet. 'Here's his address, 547 hey, wait a minute I That address is too far west. It's a phony!'

'What for?' Russo asked.

'You just missed him, Abe.' He took a thick cigar stub out of his mouth, used it to point over his shoulder. 'He split.'

'Said he was sick.' He put the cold stub back into his mouth. 'Didn't look too good neither.'

The doors opened and Nicholas sprinted down the corridor, leaving the other behind, staring at him. He pushed past Frank. Tomkin was on the phone, behind his desk. He put a palm over the moudipiece. 'Well,' he said, 'what gives? Did you find-'

'All twenty-five here today?' Nicholas asked. 'None called in sick?'

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