“You sure you’re not a serial killer?” she asked, a nervous smile playing on her lips.“Cross my heart.”I turned up the service road, putting...the truck into four wheel drive. Dirt and gravel. I could see, by the highbeams, that the water was sluicing down it. Few more hours and it would be impossible to navigate. Plenty of time to get home, though.“Been there before? Seattle?”“No. Never. It’s a long way from home.”“Pride’s this weekend, you know.” Intuition, maybe. Or a lucky guess.“I know…” the. Most of his students in my age bracket were long on strength and aggression and desperately short of self-control and focus. I, on the other hand, had lost most of my relatively limited physical prowess, but was totally controlled, almost robotic, in the ring.I spent much more time at the dojo on simple exercise than on perfecting my katas, but things were coming easier now that I was getting into better shape. That exercise had left my gi thoroughly drenched, and the resulting odors would. More

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