Thanks a bunch, I thought.

I asked, “I mean, did he make any friends in particular?”

His smile was on the vacant side. “Oh yes. They didn’t come in together or anything, but he always seemed to be here when Mr. Colby…Mr. Vincent Colby?…was in for a workout.”

I was fishing and surprised to get so immediate a bite.

“I’m acquainted with Mr. Colby,” I said. “Does he have a regular workout time?”

“He does. Three times a week, late afternoon Monday, Wednesday and a little earlier on Friday. Or he did. You may not be aware that Mr. Colby had an accident a few weeks ago, and hasn’t been in since. But I’m sure, when he’s recovered, he’ll be back at it. He’s a natural athlete. Played rugby at Princeton.”

Harvard, actually.

“Tell me, Rod—would they ever work out together, Colby and Shannon?”

“Sometimes. They seemed friendly. Conversed. Not warm, but…people concentrate on their personal programs here. Of course, that brought them together in itself, since they had the same personal trainer.”

“Who would that be?”

“Mashy.”

“Pardon?”

“Mashy Sakai. Well, Masahiko Sakai—we just call him Mashy for short. Very proud to have him on staff.”

“Oh?”

The trainer nodded. “He’s achieved the final Dan level of Judan. That’s—”

“Tenth-degree black belt.”

“That’s right. But Mashy does more than just teach martial arts with us. Oh, he includes that in the training, but as part of an overall fitness program, if you’re interested. He’s here right now, if you’d like to talk to him. Just finishing up a class on the second floor.”

The black-trimmed white room upstairs that I slipped into was divided in half, one section with polished wood flooring, for exercises, the rest shielded by a green mat, for sparring. Each wall had a framed kanji print. Along the periphery of the matted area, a dozen students watched as a little slender round-faced man in his fifties, wearing the traditional loose-fitting uniform called a karategi, was squared off with a much larger, younger man similarly attired—of course, the larger, younger man was not wearing a black belt, which proved a factor.

The two faced each other poised for hand-to-hand combat. The small round-faced man made a quick sidestep, placing his right leg behind the bigger man’s left leg, taking him down with a wham.

Both men rose, bowed, then the shorter one said, “Now that move, the ōuchi gari, or great inner reap, is an effective, simple way to bring your opponent down…unless he or she anticipates you and employs an ashi barai, a foot sweep. So try a hooking motion, not a reaping one.”

They went through the routine again, with the sensei demonstrating that slight variation as the bigger man whomped down once more, poor bastard. Again they rose, bowed. The student returned to the periphery with the others.

Their teacher reminded them of the time and day of their next class, bowed, dismissed them, and they bowed in return, then trooped out, looking beaten and tired. Their sensei didn’t appear to have broken a sweat.