Afternoon, all.

	I'm heading for StarCon in Denver (and hoping to
perhaps drop by Nan Desu Con while I'm there) early Friday
morning, and as I've gotten several requests for progress
on Pagliacci, I've decided to post this teaser so you all
have something to look forward to come my return to the 
list next Monday morning.

	I hope you like this short bit, and the entire 
chapter, some 30-35K of it, should reach the list before 
the end of the month.

	Hope to hear a little something from you before I
leave, but if not, mail away anyhow, and I'll reply when
I get back.

	Have fun reading.

	Ed Becerra


***********************************************************


     * * *

     Dowel looked around. <"Dammit, Sash, where'd you get to?">,
she growled in Mandarin.

     <"Over there">, said Mace, pointing. <"We're in Japan now. Where
ELSE would she head to?">

     Dowel suddenly KNEW that the Gods were playing with her head for
their own personal entertainment. Sash was perhaps the most rational
and level-headed of the Amazons who had been assigned to this husband
retrieval party, and on the trip to Japan, Dowel had chosen to make
Sash her second in command. But she'd forgotten the one great 
weakness Sash suffered from.

     <"Sugar! Spice! Go get Sash!">

     The two girls groaned, and trotted over to where Sash had 
virtually suction-cupped herself to a store window like some giant
car toy. They grabbed an arm and a leg apiece and pried her off the
plate glass, dragging the screaming and whimpering girl back to 
Dowel.

     <"We've got a mission to complete, Sash! Your addiction can 
WAIT!"> Dowel reprimanded her.

     <"But they've got copies of the latest 'Pokemon' music video,
Dowel! I gotta have it! I JUST GOTTA! Go on without me! PLEASE!">

     I'm going to kill him, mused Dowel as she motioned Sugar and 
Spice to drag Sash along with them. I don't care WHAT the Elders
said, I don't care WHAT punishments they give me. The outlander
_deserves_ to die for putting me through this hell. I'm going to kill
him. Yup. Slowly. Take maybe a year or two. Three, if I'm careful.

     Some days it just doesn't pay to be a husband-hunting
Amazon. Just ask Dowel. She can tell you all about it. In great 
detail.

     * * *

     Kanazuchi Maiku was feeling just a little embarrassed.
Asuka's servant had showed up with the picture of the man she was 
looking for. Although 'picture' didn't quite convey the true essence
of what the small woman had lugged (with a great deal of difficulty)
up to his office. Maiku hadn't seen an oil painting THAT large 
anywhere outside of a Western art museum.

     Done life-size (or even slightly larger, he suspected),
the oil painting was over eight feet tall and four wide. NOT 
something he could carry around in a wallet to show people when 
asking them if they'd seen the guy.

     Now he was carrying this grotesque monstrosity of a portrait
to the local outlet of a nation-wide chain of copying shops. This one
had a large format digital camera connected to the personal computers
in the shop. With luck, they could take a picture of just the head
and face alone, and print up several dozen snapshot sized copies.

     As it was, the stares he was receiving were making him sincerely
reconsider having taken the case. Whoever Asuka had gotten to make
the painting, they'd done it in a high, florid style that hadn't
been seen since the Italian Renaissance. It looked worse than the 
pictures Maiku had seen on the covers of those bad romances his 
former secretary had been hooked on. He shook his head. If the guy he
was hunting REALLY looked like the portrait, it would be no challenge
at all. The poor fool would stick out in Japan like a whale in a 
desert.

     He looked the picture of the gaijin in the face. "Sorry, buddy.
Nothing personal. But I need the cash, and you're what the customer
is paying for." He shrugged. "Better you than me. Besides, if you ARE
in Nerima, you'd be better off with Saginomiya-san than living 
anywhere in THAT nutty city."

     He trudged into the copy shop, man-handling the oil painting
through the door, and heaving a grateful sigh when he was able to set
it down for the copy shop crew to work on. Then he lit up a cigarette
and went out for some coffee and doughnuts while they worked.

     After all, it's what Mike Hammer would have done.

     * * *




	"Dreamers may die, but the Dream is eternal.."