An assassin stirred, suspended halfway through a dividing wall. The manservant checked her eyes. They were crossed and unfocused. No threat there. Butler pocketed the old lady’s weapon just the same. You couldn’t be too careful — something he was learning all over again. If

Madame Ko could have seen this afternoon’s display, she would have had his graduation tattoo lasered for sure.

The room was clear, but still something was bothering the bodyguard. His soldier’s sense grated like two broken bones. Once again

Butler flashed back to Madame Ko, his sensei from the Academy. The bodyguard’s primary Junction is to protect his principal. The principal cannot be shot if you are standing in front of him. Madame Ko always referred to employers as principals. One did not become involved with principals.

Butler wondered why this particular maxim had occurred to him.

Out of the hundreds Madame Ko had drummed into his skull, why this one? It was obvious really. He had broken the first rule of personal protection by leaving his principal unguarded. The second rule: Do not develop an emotional attachment to the principal was pretty much in smithereens too. Butler had become so attached to Artemis that it was obviously beginning to affect his judgement.

He could see Madame Ko before him, nondescript in her khaki suit,

for all the world an ordinary Japanese housewife. But how many housewives of any nationality could strike so quickly that the air hissed?

You are a disgrace, Butler. A disgrace to your name. It would better suit your talents to get a job mending shoes. Your principal has already been neutralized.

Butler moved as though in a dream. The very air seemed to hold him back as he raced for the kitchen doors. He knew what would have happened. Arno Blunt was a professional. Vain perhaps — a cardinal sin among bodyguards — but a professional nevertheless. Professionals always inserted earplugs if there was any danger of gunfire.