Vance recognized the sound immediately. It was the harp-like plucking of a Japanese koto, punctuated by the tinkling of a wind chime. Without opening his eyes, he reached out and touched a hard, textured surface. It was, he realized, a straw mat, and from the firmness of the weave he knew it was tatami. Then he felt the soft cotton of the padded mat beneath him and guessed he was lying on a futon. The air in the room was faintly spiced with Mahayana Buddhist temple incense.
I'm in Japan, he told himself. Or somebody wants me to think I am.
He opened his eyes and found himself looking at a rice-paper lamp on the floor next to his futon. Directly behind it, on the left, was a tokonoma art alcove, built next to a set of sliding doors. A small, round shoji window in the tokonoma shed a mysterious glow on its hanging scroll, the painting an ink sketch of a Zen monk fording a shallow stream.
Then he noticed an insignia that had been painted on the sliding doors with a giant brush. He struggled to focus, and finally grasped that it was the Minoan double ax, logo of the Daedalus Corporation.
Jesus!
He lay a minute, nursing the ache in his head and trying to remember what had happened. All he could recall was London, money, Eva . . .
Eva. Where was she?
He popped erect and surveyed the room. It was traditional Jap anese, the standard four-and-a-half tatami in size, bare and Spartan. A classic.