The threatening caller's number was stored in Rob's phone. Rob stared at its digital display. After a moment, he recognized the voice: Keating's guy. The one at the hotel that time. Rob had talked to him before bumping into Keating with the girls...

Margot contacted Keating's people just yesterday - maybe the day before - about Rob's photo exhibition. She was supposed to mention photographs, but she knew nothing about Rob's plan to blackmail him...

They had moved fast. Cynthia saw that black Cherokee two days ago. That means they had tailed Rob before Margot's call, which means someone in Keating's organization must have identified him earlier, probably after the Gears CD became a success...

They waited awhile... Damn, unless the Boston break-in, the stolen computers and photos, the well-dressed man in Mark's apartment... unless all that was them.

Pedestrians crammed the narrow sidewalk. They skirted around him without using elbows or dirty looks. Less than a block away, Nobu waited on the wall, unaware of him. Before Rob reached him, Nobu lifted his chin and popped up his hand. "Hey. You alright? Something wrong?"

"Yeah, I've been threatened."

Nobu stood and looked around. He pointed across the street. Cynthia huddled there with her male friends. When Rob looked, she ducked and covered her head. "By them?" Nobu said.

"No, not them." Cynthia must have spotted him fast-walking with the phone and thought it strange. Rob waved a thumbs-up. After a quick wave, Cynthia and her posse of young men ran down a side road.

Nobu examined the sidewalk behind Rob. "Was it someone between here and Roppongi Crossing?"

"Maybe. It was over the phone, but it felt like the caller was watching me."

Nobu wore jeans and a light red jacket. With his shaved head and bulky shoulders, he resembled a bouncer. Rob smiled. "You ready to rumble?"

"If I have to."

"That girl across the street was the one who slept on my couch, the one who didn't offer her body. She's going to help with Makiko."

Nobu looked for Cynthia again, but she was long gone. Finally he said, "I'm confused. Who threatened you?"

"One of Brian Keating's people."

Nobu's smile disappeared.

Just then, a loud motorcycle weaved around the cars in the lane closest to them. When the driver revved the engine, Nobu sprang against the wall. The motorcyclist raced through an opening in the traffic to a red light a block away.

"You're more skittish than I am," Rob said. Then he surveyed the street and sidewalks and found nothing out of the ordinary. "You alright?"

"Come." Nobu descended the stairs to the Irish bar.

Rob laughed. "Hey, don't be so jumpy. Brian Keating isn't going to send a motorcycle assassin. He's an actor, not a drug lord."

But Nobu was gone.

At the bottom of the stairs, stained wood surrounded the Irish bar's door. Gaelic music with a punk rock tempo screeched out. Maybe Nobu was anxious because of Mr. Endo, the Yakuza boss Rob had spotted at the hotel and at Nobu's father's temple.

Unlike Keating, the Yakuza was dangerous. That must be spooking Nobu.

Inside the bar, Rob noticed Nobu at a booth in back, so he ordered two pints of Guinness from the tattooed barmaid and waited on a stool for them. The first pint settled with the wavy darkness of a bog at night. Rob tried to read his fortune in it while the bartender filled the second pint. A Japanese kanji tattoo decorated the back of her neck. Before her skin hypnotized him entirely, he surveyed the bar's few patrons, all in suits.

So Keating's people had identified him as the man with the camera at the hotel, but they had waited. For some reason, they were confident he would not publish the photographs.

The guy on the phone... what was his name? Rob could almost remember. His name was something ironic... Rob carried the two beers across the room and slid into the booth. Mr. Young, was that it? "Keating's people are onto me, but I'm not worried, and you shouldn't be either."

Nobu reached for the pint. "Why not?"

"The day before yesterday I asked Margot, my assistant, to invite Keating to my exhibition and to one of the Gears concerts. I asked her to mention that I'd taken photographs of him in January and that I wanted to share them with him. That's all. Haven't mentioned their content or money."

"Sounds like they moved fast to me. Sounds like they mean business if they are calling and threatening you."

"No. After the girls left my apartment that morning, a guy in a black Cherokee talked to the two who screwed up my evening with Makiko. That happened before I asked Margot to contact Keating."

"So?"

"So maybe the hotel caught me on camera that night, I don't know. I think they were watching me in Boston. Keating's guy - I think his name is Mr. Young - he waited a long time. What he did, getting those girls to mess up my evening with Makiko, was painful but nonviolent and off the cuff. If I hadn't met those girls..." Rob folded his hands and inhaled deeply. "Anyway, so far, Keating's people are timid."

Nobu poured a quarter pint of Guinness down his throat. "You think the Gears CD gave you away?"

"Exactly, so I'm not worried. I can't go missing or show up dead on the eve of the Gears' Japan tour. That would draw a lot of attention, and they would not want to get snagged by the Japanese police. They hold people until they confess."

"What about your daughter? They screwed that up for you."

"Yeah." When Rob thought of what Makiko believed, that he would abuse those girls, his back stiffened. He crossed his arms. "Somehow, I'll fix it. With Cynthia's help."

"Wasn't she one of them?"

"Yes, but she's different. She met them that night and she wasn't there when they intercepted Makiko and I."

Nobu fidgeted with his pint glass. Guinness sloshed back and forth. "So you're saying they knew about your photographs, but didn't know what to do about it?"

"I guess. You want another beer?"

"No."

"Are you worried about your family?" Rob said.

"What do you mean?"

"Mr. Endo's involved. If you're worried Keating will use the Yakuza as enforcers, you might be right. Mr. Endo won't be pleased that you planned to receive the blackmail money from me. If he hears about it."

Nobu squinted at his beer. The pint glass distorted his face as he drank more. On the street, he had had a fighting attitude. Amazing how much the Yakuza spooked him.

Rob smiled. "Yakuza drive Toyotas, not Cherokees, right?"

Nobu let go of his glass. His lips twisted, a forced smile. "I wish I had not encouraged you to do something with those photographs."

"Don't wish that. Your family is safe, and you're safe. And I'll fix things with Makiko. Stopping Keating from sleeping with teens would be great, but I don't see any chance of doing that short of killing him. We may not get any money, but it's worth a try."

Nobu took a deep breath.

Rob wanted another Guinness.

"Brian Keating has two or three hundred million dollars," Nobu said. "He can buy anything."

"And he thinks money buys everything. Believe me, they're not going to resort to violence. Money. That's his weapon."


"Do you really think you can get away with blackmailing Brian Keating?"

"I may make a mess of it." Rob laughed. The bartender disappeared into the kitchen. Nobu watched her too, so maybe he was ready for another beer. "Other celebrities have paid millions, more than once, to settle out of court," Rob said. "Tens of millions. They still have fans and careers. Even if a payoff went public, Keating could spin it. He knows it, his Mr. Young knows it."

Nobu leaned out of the booth enough to scan the entrance of the bar. He examined every bar patron as if memorizing facial features. "Mr. Endo is a member of my father's temple," he said, "and so are most of his lieutenants. Their patronage... I could care less, I don't want to inherit the family business, but small temples are hurting these days."

Celebrity status protected Rob, but not Nobu, or his family. "Look, we probably can't hurt Keating, but a few million could do some good. You could do a lot with that."

Nobu gazed away.

"So you keep out of it," Rob said. "I'll handle it." That got Nobu's attention. "Keating and his crew are lightweights. The Yakuza are a different matter. If they get involved and you find out, let me know. Otherwise, lay low. No one will know you inspired me, no one will know I donated the money to your nonprofit for runaways. Who would believe it anyway?"

Nobu slid out of the booth. He bowed his head and squeezed Rob's shoulder. "You're right, that money will do a lot of good. Thanks."

They shook hands.

"Another beer?" Rob said.

"No, we stay away from each other until this is long over. Sorry. And bye."

Sometimes the right thing to do is to break the rules. Do you agree with Rob that this is one of those situations?

Starring chapters is a right. So go ahead, exercise your rights!