Albondigas clenched his jaw. Slowly, his gaze shifted to the main doors. And as all watched, his lips pursed with jeering malevolence.

Before Albondigas could utter a single word, another sharp voice broke in. The English was clipped and precise.

"This is foolishness. We are not here to squabble. Stop this now, Mandobar."

Sham Tokumo of the Yakuza was looking to the head of the table, to their silent host.

The faces of the men were bland-deliberately willed calm to mask inner unease. Flat eyes focused once more on the world-famous chocolate-black face of Mandobar. Their host's eyes were unreadable; the mouth held an expression of puckered impatience.

Mandobar's reaction to the war of words surprised them all. There was a long sigh, followed by a very slight raising of shoulders. Utter helplessness.

"I did not believe it would come this quickly," Mandobar clucked unhappily. "Of course, I knew a conflict was likely inevitable. But here? Now?" The head shook, the eyes were sad and slightly downcast, as if lost in weighty thought.

Albondigas licked his lips. He glanced from the lawyer up to Mandobar.

Albondigas's temper was legendary. Yet no one seemed ready to prevent his calling his bodyguard into the room. Not even the person who had summoned them all there for this great meeting of the world's most powerful crime syndicates. For Albondigas, it was now a matter of honor.

With agonizing slowness, he pushed his chair away from the big table. The mahogany legs groaned a sad protest across the dry, buffed-marble floor.

Across the table, Sham Tokumo was stunned. The Yakuza man could not believe Mandobar wasn't stopping this. Wasn't that what this whole plan was all about? Unity among these organizations? Tokumo didn't want to die because two squabbling idiots couldn't get along.