'Perhaps.

'Soviets, ha! Mr Moriya said, angrily, shaking his head at the Tokyo cityscape.

Hisako raised one hand to her brow, traced the line of a bead of perspiration. She put her hands back on her lap. 'There will be storms around the Cape! Mr Moriya said, trying to sound knowledgeable.

'There is a canal through Panama, I believe, Hisako said, tiring of the argument.

'Is that still working?

'It is.

'There's a war there!

'Not officially.

'What? Officially? What is to be official about in a war? Mr Moriya sounded incredulous.

'It has not been declared, she told him. 'It is a local dispute; bandits in the hills. A police operation.

'And all those American Marines at… at… last year, at-

'Limón.

Mr Moriya looked confused. 'I thought it was Cosa… Costal…

'Costa Rica, Hisako told him. She pronounced the 'r' sound in the gaijin manner, even exaggerated it a little.

'That was police?

'No, a rescue mission. Hisako smiled faintly. The air conditioning engineer was scratching the back of his head. He sucked air through his clenched teeth and looked up at Mr Moriya, who wasn't noticing him.

'Hisako; if it looks like a war, sounds like a war-

'The Americans will keep the canal safe.

'Like this Rimón place?

'Moriya-san, Hisako said, looking up at him. 'I would like to fly, but I cannot. I go by ship or I do not go. I could go to California and then by train to New York and another ship, or through Suez, which I would also like to see, but I would prefer to come back that way.

Mr Moriya sighed and sat down heavily in his seat, behind his desk, 'Couldn't you do what I do? he suggested. 'Get very drunk the night before the flight — beer, sake, whisky and young Australian red wine always works, I find — so that you have such a bad hangover you feel death would come as a welcome release?

'No.

'Yes? Mr Moriya said to the young engineer.

'Sir; may I use your phone? I will order a replacement unit.

'Yes, yes, of course. Mr Moriya waved the man to the phone. 'Hisako… He leant his smooth, bulky forearms on the desktop. The engineer chattered down the phone to his office. 'Couldn't you try? Take some sedatives…?

'I did, Moriya-san. I went out to Narita last week with a. friend whose brother is a senior pilot for JAL, but I could not even sit on the plane with the doors closed. She shook her head. 'It must be by ship. She tried to look reassuring.

Mr Moriya sat back disconsolately in his seat and gently slapped his forehead with one palm. 'I give in, he sighed.

'It will only be a few weeks, she told him. 'Then I will be in Europe, in London, Paris, Berlin, Rome, Madrid, Stockholm; all the places we have agreed.

'And Prague, and Edinburgh, Mr Moriya said, sounding sad but looking a little more hopeful.

'It will be worth the time. I will practise on the journey.

'And Florence and Venice.

'I need a break from so many recitals and classes, anyway.

'Not to mention Barcelona, and I think Bern want you, too. Mr Moriya watched the young engineer, who was still talking to his office. 'And Athens, and Amsterdam.

'I'll arrive refreshed. So much sea air; it will be good for me.

'It must be your choice, Mr Moriya said, glancing at his watch. 'I'm just your agent; I just want to see you use your talent to the full. You don't have to listen to me.

'I always do, Moriya-san. But I cannot fly. A few weeks; that's all it will take.

Mr Moriya looked glum again. The young engineer put the phone down and said a new unit was on its way. He packed his tools away and then started wrapping up the pieces of the broken air-conditioner in the large white sheet.

Now it was more than two months later, and half those dates had been cancelled or postponed; her visits to those magically named cities — cities she had never seen before, and only ever dreamed about — had become casualties of an undeclared war, the list of their names growing every few days, like a slow. accretion of the dead.

'Là, Philippe said. 'The Fantasia.

She followed his gaze, and just beyond the stem of the ship they were heading for — Philippe's ship, the tanker Le Cercle — she could see the small white shape of the Fantasia del Mer, heading for Gatún Port, pushing away from the three ships anchored in the centre of the lake.

'So it was her, she said. 'Must have gone to Frijoles first, then. She looked back to him. 'Perhaps we'll get some mail now.

'Some real beer, even. Philippe grinned.

'You be rucky, she laughed, putting on a thick Japanese accent. He laughed too, and she felt, as she always did at such moments, about a third of her real age.

The warm, humid air blew about her as she turned to face the bows again, still trying to dry her hair.

The line of hills on the far side of the broad lake, beyond the trapped ships, looked like a towering dark wave somehow frozen against the steel-grey sky.

'Calvados! Rémy Martin! Fresh bananas! And two sides of meat! And Metaxa seven star! Lekkas, the cook on Le Cercle, shouted down to Hisako and Philippe as they moored the Gemini to the small pontoon at the foot of the companionway and started up the steps, scuba gear hoisted over their shoulders. The Fantasia del Mer had delivered the first supplies for two weeks. 'I have olives! Lekkas shouted, waving his arms about in circles. 'Flour for pitta! Bulgar! Feta! Tonight I make you meze! We'll have Greek meal! Much garlic! He reached down and took Hisako's cylinders from her as she reached deck level. 'Ms Onoda; sounds good, yes?

'Yes, she said. 'Any mail?

'No mail, Lekkas said.

'Any news, George? Philippe asked.

'Nothing on the radio, sir. Two editions of Colón News come with the supplies; Channel 8… well, is just as usual.

Philippe glanced at his watch. 'News in a few minutes anyway. He clapped the cook on the shoulder. 'Greek tonight, eh?

The three of them started walking along the deck; Hisako went to take her own gear, but Lekkas lifted it as he nodded to Philippe. 'And I have a bottle of ouzo and some of retsina I been saving. We have one good meal.

They put the scuba gear in a storeroom on the main deck level; Lekkas went to the galley while Hisako and Philippe went up to the officers' quarters, aft of the bridge. Philippe's cabin was a smaller version of the captain's, across the corridor; a modest stateroom, a double-bed cabin with three portholes facing astern, a closet and a shower room. Philippe switched the TV on as soon as they got in. Hisako decided to take a shower. She could hear some game show on the TV over the noise of the water.

When she came out, Philippe was lying naked on a towel on the bed, watching Channel 8 news. A uniformed woman of the US Southern Command read out the latest releases from the Pentagon, Cuba, Panama City, San José, Bogotá and Managua, then detailed guerrilla and government losses in Costa Rica, western and eastern Panama, and Columbia. Hisako lay down on the bed beside him, stroking one hand through the black hair on his chest. Philippe took her hand and held it, still watching the screen.

'… for the peace conference in Salinas, Ecuador next week. Representative Buckman, spokesman for the congressional group, said they hoped to overfly Gatún Lake, in the Panama Canal, where three ships are at present trapped by the conflict.

'South Africa; and the increasingly beleaguered white regime in Johannesburg has again threatened to use- Philippe clicked the set to standby and rolled over to take her in his arms.

'So we can wave to the yanquis when they fly over us, eh? We should be grateful, yes?

She smiled and said nothing, but put one fingertip on the end of his nose, wiggling it, feeling the cartilage under the l6 skin. He moved his head up, softly biting her finger. He kissed her, moved against her, then looked at his watch again. He took it off.