Rob raced down the stairs to the plaza, where he cut around people, one eye on Mark's dark green cowboy hat, which bobbed over the inert crowds waiting at the crosswalk. Mr. Young knew months ago that Rob took photographs of Keating. Is that why Mark broke into the apartment? Somehow, Mr. Young must have hired Mark to search for them.

Half a football field away, Mark stared at one of the large television screens on the side of a building. An image of Vincent from the Gears loomed over the plaza. Dozens of people, preoccupied with their phones while waiting for the light, barred the way: a maze of suits, briefcases, and sensible skirts. Rob dodged startled faces and gained on Mark, who gazed at a new image, all the Gears, four stories high.

Why shoot Sylvester? Rob bumped a small child in schoolboy knickers. Not hard. He steadied the boy with his hand, and they made eye contact. "Gomen," Rob said, apologizing. Feeling rude, he ignored the mother and sidestepped several bystanders. He had fifteen feet to go. Before he halved it, Mark twirled around. A cocky smile vanished from his face.

"Expecting Nobu?" Rob pushed him.

Mark's gaping mouth became a smile. "I came for your exhibition. Happy to see me?"

"Cut the crap. You shot Sylvester." Mark's eyes shifted as if following movement, but if someone really was behind Rob, Mark knew enough not to give it away. To stop him from running, Rob yanked Mark's steer-shaped belt buckle hard. Mark flailed his arms like a man riding a mechanical bull. "They put you up to it, didn't they?" Rob said.

Regaining his balance, Mark leaped back and smirked. "No one put me up to anything."

"Then why shoot Sylvester, you bastard? Why shoot an old man?"

Pedestrians waiting for the light scattered. Mark kept his hands down. Not wanting to attract the police either, Rob lowered his fists. When the light changed, commuters streamed away. Still smiling, Mark crossed his arms. "All they wanted from me was petty larceny." He pursed his lips. "They took me a lot more seriously after the shooting."

Rob grabbed at his throat.

Mark ducked and warded him off with jabs. "I missed this about us."

The flirting was irritating. "Go to hell. You could've killed him."

"He wasn't in danger. I'm a trained sniper." Mark spread out his hands. "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for shooting Sylvester. It brought us back together." He blew a kiss and danced out of reach. His hands ready to spar, he shuffled around like a boxer. "Slug me, go on. Sylvester was so damn cocky and suicidal. You like that about him, don't you, his cockiness?"

Rob took a step back. Getting arrested fighting Mark solved nothing, especially in conviction crazy Japan. Non-violence required enormous patience, stratospheric control, something he had to mobilize. Mark had information and sounded jealous of Sylvester. His smile glowed with more radiance than Fumiko's, so Rob laughed, the most manufactured, desperate laugh in a life full of them. He had to get Mark babbling. "Why intercept Nobu? What was that?"

Mark stopped jogging in place. He hooked his thumbs into the loops of his jeans. "I'm just trying to get ahead in the world. Your rock star pay is probably better, but mine ain't so bad right now."

"What are they paying you for?"

Mark shook his head. "You weren't supposed to see us together, but it doesn't matter. I'm supposed to contact you soon."

"About?"

He tapped the brim of his hat. "Don't know."

"Liar."

"They're professionals. When I need to know, I'll know."

Mark trusted his employer entirely because he thought it was a government spy agency. "You and Nobu argued," Rob said. "Why?" Mark pretended to zip his lips. "Why did they bring you to Japan? Did you talk up our relationship?"

Mark put one hand on his hip. "Oh, did I ever." He mimicked Julian, the gay teen who worked with Lynn at the Somerville coffee shop.

"They expect me to negotiate with you?" Rob said.

Mark angled his jaw upward. "Yup." He put both hands on his hips. "Wouldn't mind knowing what we're negotiating."

Rob squinted. "You're serious? You don't know?" The crowd around them had changed with the pedestrian light. To them, Rob and Mark were just two loud mouths, like most foreigners. "When you broke into my place, what were you looking for?"

"Photographs."

"You know something at least. Good for you. Photographs of what?"

"I was told, I'd know if I saw them." Mark touched his crotch. "You doing Nobu?"

Mark's goals obviously differed from Keating's. "I'm not gay, Mark."

"Who you screwing?"

Rob rolled his eyes. "Stick to business."

"I was the one who intercepted the bitches leaving your apartment, you know. I arranged for them to interrupt your dinner date with Makiko." He smiled. "Another off-cuff operation, like Sylvester's shooting." He tapped his jaw. "Go on, punch me. You want to."

If Rob warned Mark to stay away from Makiko, he'd treat it as a dare. Rob had no desire to tango, but he had to dance. "If I ever feel like experimenting with men, I'll let you know."

"You kissed Julian."

"Tasted horrible too, but worth it to piss you off." Rob could tell Keating in person tomorrow that there were no photographs. Or he could stall for time by refusing to negotiate with Mark. Or both. "You shot Sylvester. Harming people I care about is not a turn-on."

"Knock me out. Get even."

"Violence doesn't turn me on either."

"Liar." Mark looked down his nose at a pair of junior high school girls wandering from the station. "They've got what you want."

"No. Keating does little girls, not me."

"Who?" Mark scrunched his eyebrows, as if the name meant nothing to him.

"Keating. Your employer."

"Never met him."

"Does Mr. Young give you orders?" Rob said. Mark's face remained blank - he knew neither of them. "If you don't know Mr. Young, they don't trust you."

"No, it's just the way it works. When I need to know-"

Rob snorted. "You still think I'm a spy?"

"No, you were fired."

"I was never a spy, Mark." Rob could not show Mark the pictures of Keating, because he might need to deny they exist later. "You're working for Brian Keating, the actor, not a government spy agency. He's a pedophile and I have photographs of it." Mark put his hands behind his back in parade rest, a standing position in the military. "The man I saw leaving your apartment in Boston must be linked to Keating," Rob said.

"Brian Keating?"

"Yeah, Brian Keating." Rob stood like Mark - parade rest, hoping to throw him off balance maybe and get an answer to his next question. "At the station, what did you show Nobu?"

Mark scraped the ground with one of his boots.

"Forget it, you know less than I do." Rob waved dismissively. "Sayonara, Mark."

Mark shouted. "Don't move."

"I want to see what you showed Nobu," Rob said. Mark slipped his hand into a pocket and held up a photograph. It showed Nobu and Rob conversing at the Irish bar. "So what's the point of that?" Rob said.

"We know Nobu's collaborating with you. My people will go over Nobu's head if he doesn't do our bidding."

Over Nobu's head must mean Mr. Endo? "What does Keating want Nobu to do?"

Mark smiled cynically. "I don't need to know."

"Does it involve me?"



Mark shrugged.

They wanted Nobu to do something. Rob shook his head. "They probably plan to kill you when all is said and done. They don't trust you."

"I'm working for Brian Keating the actor? For real?"

"Afraid so. No spy agency." Rob scuffed the toe of one of Mark's boots. "Those green boots, that hat. You're an actor too, one I refuse to negotiate with. If that's their plan, tell them no way." Rob pointed at the picture from the Irish bar. "Who took that? Are we being photographed right now?"

"Don't know, don't care." Mark removed his cowboy hat and waved it with a swoop before placing it back on his head. "You have a lot of money, Rob. Why are you blackmailing Brian Keating? Tell me that."

"To save the world, bro."

"Bull."

"For real. Now tell me something. What's Nobu's connection to all this? Do you even know?"

"Not sure, except he's a pimp."

Rob turned on his heel and headed toward the taxi stand on the other side of the station. He remembered being jumped in Boston and looked back. Mark, ramrod straight in the same spot, waved his dark green cowboy hat in the air before line dancing to the right, then to the left. It almost made him likable. Happy, dangerous, demented.

Rob got in line for a taxi.

Keating's people wanted something from Nobu. And they were willing to sell him out to the Yakuza to get it. But what?

Keating's people sent Mark to pressure Nobu to do something? No one meant for Rob to see them meet? Was that clear? Is there anything that you are unclear about?

If you didn't read VINTAGE ROB, this chapter might be the most confusing so far. Here are a few points to ponder:

FYI: In VINTAGE ROB, Mark believed Rob could get him a job working as a spy for the US government. If curious, read about it in a few places there, including Ch. 8 "Nonviolence is Hard".

FYI: Also, someone broke into Rob's apartment in VINTAGE ROB during Ch. 26 "The Unsung Kindness of College Guys" and again in Ch. 27 "Stupid Guy Stuff". Rob suspected Mark but couldn't confirm it.

FYI: Rob saw a man sneak out of Mark's apartment in Ch. 28 of VINTAGE ROB, "An Intruder in Mark's Apartment".

It's a lot of work writing. I guess that makes me a star.