Not that I was actually enjoying myself. I'd told Flood I wanted it proof against knives because that was what I'd expected to be getting into if it came to a showdown - a super-spectacular barn dance with half a dozen of those jungle cats trying to do a Julius Caesar thing on me if I couldn't make Shoda fall for the voodoo bit, but obviously it was also proof against close-range 9mm ammunition, a sixteenth-of-an-inch-thick weave of tungsten steel mesh with a covering of toughened nylon, according to Flood's description.
Not, though, enjoying it, no, because she was breaking fast now and if she raised that gun and aimed at my head it'd be strictly no go, finite, and a rose for Moira.
I spoke again, telling her what she must be told at this stage in the affair. I hadn't expected a gun when I'd come out here to meet her but there'd been one, so I'd had to change the script. I'd expected her as an Oriental to accord me the execution-style formality so that I could enter Nirvana kneeling in prayer but she hadn't done that because she was now totally dominated by her emotions and all she could think about was pumping the shots into me and focusing on the standard target, the heart, because if she missed it even at this range she'd hit a lung or the spleen or the liver and start death spreading through the system.
So I continued my assault on her psyche because she was now conditioned for it.
'It is not your karma to kill me, Mariko, as you see. This much is now made manifest. On the contrary, you know that by the law of karma the abusers of power must surrender it. This much is ordained.'
Flash and in the next millisecond the bang of the gun and then the smoke clouding between us, the third shot, that was the third shot, I'd been counting, but the thing was I didn't know if the chamber held five or six bullets and I was waiting for her to raise the gun and aim at my head and squeeze the thing and Jesus Christ, I didn't want her to do that, sweating like a pig, wouldn't you, waiting for her to do that in the next second, the next two seconds, blowing my head away, what happened to Q, oh he never got back, the opposition blew his head away in the middle of a runway on Singapore airport, he'd bitten off more than he could chew, got into some kind of exotic end-phase he couldn't get out of, he was always a bit like that, if you remember, the fear of Christ in me as 1 watched her, fascinated, keeping the gun at the edge of my vision and seeing it come up, seeing her lift it and take aim at the centre of my forehead, not, in fact, no, just the nerves, watching her face and waiting for her to do that but she'd gone beyond the point of rational thinking because all she could see in front of her was this man, this creature, an animalistic phantasm that was proving itself omnipotent, unkillable, immortal, and, most hideous of all, the incarnation of her own appointed Nemesis.
Watching her face.
Watching her face as she fired again and I felt the impact just above the heart. Fourth shot.
If you had said to an artist, a sculptor, fashion me a mask that will show fear, more than fear, terror, more than terror, the recognition of a force so powerful that the wearer pales before its dread countenance, in thrall to the knowledge of impending death, the death of the mask-wearer, a death that is decreed, predestined, that is fixed by the stars so as to be inescapable, if you had asked an artist, a sculptor, to make you a mask like that, then you would be looking into the face of Shoda as I saw her now.
Like glass, one day break easily. You make her break. I think, one day.
Smoke drifting between us on the quiet air.
Bring her down.
Bring her down now.
'Acknowledge your karma, Mariko, and obey it. There is nothing more for you here.'
Flash and the gun banged and I took the shock and waited. Fifth shot, that had been the fifth shot and there could be a sixth, I didn't know.
Stink of cordite and the echoes coming back from the hangars, the nerves running with fire because of the effort needed to absorb the impact every time it came, the effort to go on standing still, to show her the tranquil mien of an immortal so that the voodoo would work.
Not voodoo, really. I'd told her the eternal truth and she'd recognised it and knew its power.
One last throw, because I had to find out.
'There is nothing you can do now, Mariko, but obey your karma.'
She raised the gun and took aim at my head and fired but there was no flash this time, just a click from the hammer, a five-shot chamber, yes, and I watched the final understanding come into her eyes and dwell there, the understanding that this creature was beyond her reach in this world; and then her arms went down and her hand opened and the gun dropped from her fingers and I said, 'Go to your father now and be at peace,' and turned my back to allow her privacy for this most intimate of acts and heard the knife hiss from its sheath and the soft cry as the blade was buried and I began walking across the tarmac towards the lights.
The end.