The Samurai Strategy

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Our major concern at that point was time. We had a lot to do, and weweren't sure how long we had to do it. Furthermore, it would befoolhardy to assume everything was going to proceed smoothly. Thatapprehension was, in fact, soon to be thoroughly vindicated.

  First, it wasn't all that simple to track down Tam. We finallydiscovered she'd already left the Robotics Lab and was back at theTsukuba Hotel lunching with Matsugami and some of his senior staff.Returning there, however, did provide a perfect opportunity to grab ourbags. Ken dragged her from the lunch with a phony excuse, and minuteslater we were checked out, solving at least one logistics problem.Unfortunately, it also tipped off Matsugami and anybody else who mightbe interested that we were departing.

  Next were the details of arranging for the chopper. While we weredriving around trying to locate Tamara, Ken was busy on his car phonepulling strings to commandeer one of the two MITI helicopters. Afterthree calls he managed to locate one at their auxiliary pad, currentlybeing refueled and serviced. I listened to him lean on the servicepeople, doing his diplomatic but firm deputy minister routine. End oflong story: it would be on its way shortly, arriving in about an hourand a half.

  Good, we thought. Plenty of time to handle the transmission of thestill-unseen documents in Noda's silver case. In the car we brought Tamfully up to date on the extraordinary circumstances by which it hadfallen into our possession, including its potential for use as leverageagainst Noda. Then we headed for the Teleconferencing Center, where weplanned to open the thing, scan the contents with a reader, and bouncethe pages to New York via satellite. Ken revealed the ministry had ahigh-security channel it used to communicate with the New York officesof JETRO, the Japan External Trade Organization over on Sixth Avenue,MITI's public relations arm. He declared we would just link up withthat office and have them patch us through to the DNI computer. Nothingto it.

  Which was correct, theoretically. When we marched in, Ken againflaunting his deputy minister walk-on priority, the white-shirted staffbowed to the floor, led us to the hard-copy scanner, turned it on, anddiplomatically excused themselves, closing the security door. The placewas ours.

  Don't know why, but until that moment none of us had really wanted toknow what was in Noda's case. Maybe a part of me still didn't, eventhen. Whatever the reason, however, none of us had bothered to take itout of Ken's briefcase for examination. Turned out that was a mistake.

  He settled his satchel onto the desk, clicked it open, and out came thebox for our first real look. As he wiped off the smoke, my initialreaction was to be dazzled. It was magnificent, a silversmith'smasterpiece, engraved with all manner of mythological beast and fowl. Awork of art in every sense. Never seen anything remotely like it.

  The problem was, it wasn't merely locked. It was soldered shut. Thesilver lid had literally been welded on, leaving it essentially a solidpiece. Noda, it turned out, left nothing to chance. Only a silversmithcould crack the seal and divulge the contents. So we still had no ideawhat was inside, and worse, we'd managed to fritter away a valuablehalf hour coming to that fruitless discovery. Now what?

  "Shit," said Tam. "When will we ever get a break?"

  "Looks like we've got two choices," Ken announced ruefully, gazing downat the intractable chunk of metal in his hands. "We can do what weprobably should have done in the first place: simply stash this for themoment and let Noda think we know what's in it. Or we can drive intoTokyo and locate somebody there who can open it, then transmit fromMITI headquarters downtown."

  Neither of these plans seemed particularly inspired. The first gave usnothing but presumptions for leverage, and the second could take hours.Noda, we all realized, was not a man who dallied.

  "Actually"--Tam spoke up--"there's a third option. Surely Noda's going tofind out sooner or later we came here to the

  Center. Believe me, he always learns everything eventually. So why nottransmit something else now, anything, and then after you get the caseopen you can send the real data?"

  "You mean, give him circumstantial cause to assume we've got the goodson him?" Sounded good to me. "Buying ourselves more time?"

  "Right. It'll take him awhile to find out exactly what was transmitted.All he'll know for certain is that we sent something. In the meantimeKen can go on to Tokyo and proceed with plan B: open the case there andtransmit the real contents."

  He looked skeptical. "That might deceive everybody for a while, but notfor long. There're too many links in the chain between here and DNI'sNew York office."

  "But sending something now will gain time. It has to. Then you can goon to Tokyo and do what you need to from there. Tomorrow."

  "Maybe." He still wasn't totally convinced. "But all right--rather thanwaste time arguing, let's just go ahead and do it. No harm in anyinstance."

  She peeked into his briefcase, a jumble of documents. "What have yougot in here that we could send?"

  "Today's _Asahi Shimbun _. . ." He laughed.

  "Ken."

  "Okay, okay." He laid the newspaper aside and was riffling through hispaperwork. "How about a few MITI memos?"

  "Nothing to do with Marketshare - 90, I hope," said Tam.

  "Promise."

  The apparatus was already humming, so he put through the connection toJETRO's New York office, whereupon Tam took over and gave theminstructions for the phone link over to the DNI mainframe. It probablyrequired all of a couple of minutes. Welcome to the Brave New World ofglobal information technology.

  Since we were just shooting in the dark, they transmitted some twentyor twenty-five pages. Actually it would have been almost better to sendtoo few rather than too many. At four pages a minute, though, we werefinished in no time. As something of a joke, Tam suggested using thefile name Nipponica, homage to Noda's takeover pipe dream. Somehow itseemed poetic justice.

  Whether the transparency of our ruse would be immediately evident toMatsuo Noda remained a big unknown. But . . . maybe Noda would have noreal way of discovering we'd sent garbage, at least not for a while.The transmission done, we signed off, zipped up Ken's briefcase, andmarched out as if we knew what we were doing. Still, it was only abluff, and a shaky one at that. Which set me to thinking.

  "Ken, it seems to me yours is the critical path in this play now." Wewere walking back to the executive parking lot where we'd left his car."It's more important to have a real copy of the data stashed somewherethan it is for us to blow the country in the next two hours. Whichmeans maybe you ought to take the chopper back yourself, send the stufftoday, and let us just drive down to Narita in your car?"

  "I agree." Tam nodded concurrence. "We can leave it there and you couldhave somebody pick it up tomorrow."

  "That's dangerous, for both of you."

  "Maybe so," she said, "but he's going to come after this case, gunsblazing, as his first priority. Ken, you're the one who's going to haveto stay out of his way now, not us. The quicker you move, the better."

  "You've got a point. All right, if you want me to, then I could takethe copter back to Tokyo myself and you can use the Toyota." He wasfishing for his keys. "In fact, maybe you should just leave now."

  "Let me check the schedule." I'd asked his secretary for a listing ofthe afternoon and evening flights in case we got delayed. It was nowone-thirty. The next flight that looked like a sure thing was a Unitedat seven forty-two, or maybe the JAL at nine. Then there was aNorthwest at ten-fifteen. Loads of time.

  "Look, we can wait for the chopper and at least see you off. Why don'twe head back over to the hotel and have a drink. Solemnize theoccasion--the final nailing of Matsuo Noda."

  "Fine." He started the car. "But both of you get only one, at leastwhoever's driving does. I want you back in one piece."

  The hotel bar was beginning to feel like a second home, though now itwas deserted, the lunch trade long departed. Our ceremonial libationalso provided my first real opportunity to study Ken Asano at leisure.I sat sipping my Suntory while he repeated once again the details ofhi
s upcoming political move at MITI. Given any kind of luck, the flapwould render Noda's takeover a worldwide scandal.

  Good. Tam and I had been Noda's point men, had done everything we knewto assist him, and now it was clear he'd been using us all along forhis own ends. He was bent on bringing American industry back to lifefor the sole purpose of skimming the cream.

  What other reason could there be? Noda's noble intention supposedly wasto help rejuvenate those American corporations doing basic research--butthe price was then to let Japan lift that R&D and translate it intoconsumer technology, thereby keeping for his team all the elements ofreal economic value in the chain from laboratory to cash register. Theywould be the ones refining their strategic capacity to transform newideas into world-class products and economic leadership. Japan wouldretain the advanced engineering segment of product development, whiletossing a few low-skill assembly plants to the U.S. to make us think wewere still part of the action. It would, of course, be a fataldelusion. The high-tech hardware of tomorrow's world increasingly wouldbe Japanese, while America became an economy of paper-shuffling MBAsand low-paid grease monkeys assembling products we no longer were ableto design or engineer.

  That depressing conclusion required the space of one Scotch. By then Iwas ready to order a second, hoping it would bring forth a solution tothe problem the first had evoked with such alarming clarity.

  But there wasn't time. At that moment we heard the MITI copter settlingonto the pad next to the hotel parking lot.

  "Ken, here's to success." I saluted him with the last melting icecubes.

  He toasted back, then signaled for the bill. Time to get moving.

  The chopper was a new Aerospatiale AS 365N Twin Dauphin, big and white,a VIP four-seater. Single pilot, capable of 180. (The Japanese lovethose high-rotor French copters.) Guess Ken had called in a lot ofchips to arrange this customized three-wheeler for a couple of_gaijin_. The seat-mile costs alone must have been staggering. But thereit was, fully serviced and set to go.

  He walked over, ducking the rotor, and advised the pilot that there hadbeen a slight change of plans. They'd be returning directly back toTokyo. The man, wearing a blue uniform, bowed and gave him a littlesalute. They seemed to be old friends. Well, I thought, if deputyministers don't use this gold-plated extravagance, then who's it for?

  Then he returned to pick up his briefcase (Noda's silver box safelytherein), have a brief farewell, and give us his keys.

  "Tamara, telex me the minute you get back. We'll proceed immediately.Full speed."

  "Let's go for it." She smiled and drew his face down for a long,languorous kiss. I then shook his hand, and we headed for the car.Since our bags were just little carry-ons, we looked solid to catch theUnited flight with a couple of hours to spare, assuming trafficcooperated.

  "Tam, how about taking the wheel? This left-hand-side-of- the-roaddriving takes practice. I almost hit somebody once in England."

  "Sure." She reached for the keys, then turned back to wave to Ken. Buthe was already climbing aboard and didn't notice.

  "Isn't it odd?" I mused, "We still haven't heard zip out of Noda. Hemust have realized by now we have his silver case. What's he planningto do? Where'll he try to head us off?"

  "Good question." She turned the key in the ignition. "I'm not going tofeel safe till we've got the actual goods on his phony sword. Not justsome dummy data."

  "My guess is he'll try and nail us at the airport. It'd be his bestshot."

  "At least Ken was smart enough to make the reservations under fakenames, so he won't know which flight to watch."

  "There're not that many. He could be covering them all. On the otherhand, he'll assume we're arriving via the MITI chopper, so maybe we candodge his hit squad."

  "I feel like I've been run through a wringer." She was pulling out ofthe slot, backing around to begin making her way through the rows ofstaff vehicles, all with special Tsukuba parking stickers.

  "You can say that again. Who could have guessed all the . . ."

  I'd reached around to check the back window, hoping to get the heatgoing, when my field of vision turned an incandescent orange, brightand glaring, as though the sun had just come in for a close encounter.Before I could turn to see what . . . the dashboard rose up and sluggedme in the teeth, as a shock wave flung us both against the seat belts.

  We're dead, I thought. We've been bombed. Noda's just dropped . . .

  Then I looked up.

  The MITI Aerospatiale, about two hundred feet off the ground, hadbecome a blazing sphere, a grotesque nova. Now its rotor blades wereclawing the air, askew, while it circled downward like a wounded bird.An instant later it nosed into the parking lot behind us, hurtlingfragments of tail assembly through several empty staff cars.

  I sat mesmerized as a second ball of fire erupted where it had crashed.One of the fuel tanks had ignited, just like in the movies.

  "Ken!" Tam let out a choked cry after the first few seconds ofdisbelief. Then she slammed the transmission into 'Park' and beganripping off her seat belt.

  Where's she going? Doesn't she realize--?

  Her door was open and she was stumbling out. That's when I finally cameto my senses, which included the sobering thought that there might bemore fuel tanks, such as the auxiliary, that hadn't yet blown.

  "Wait!" I'd ripped off my own seat harness by that time and had rolledout to begin running after her as she stumbled across the snowy stretchof asphalt separating us from the flames.

  She was moving like a gazelle, but I managed to catch up about thirtyyards from the wreckage. Using a modified shoulder block, I pulled heraround and tried to get a grip.

  "Tam, nobody could survive that. We've got to stay back . . ."

  At which point we both slipped and collapsed in a patch of snow . . .just as the last fuel tank detonated with the impact of a sonic boom.Memory can be a little unreliable under such circumstances, but I stillremember more wreckage sailing past us, including a strut off thelanding gear that gouged a furrow in the asphalt no more than ten feetfrom our heads.

  "Tam, he never knew what hit him. It had to be instantaneous." I wastrying to brush the wet snow off her face as I slipped my arm aroundher shoulders. She was still holding back the tears, but only just.

  "We didn't even have a real good-bye." Her words were jagged. "Therewere so many things . . . I was hoping we . . ."

  Her voice trailed off into tears.

  "Look, I only knew him for a day, but that was enough to learn somethings. Kenji Asano was a wise and noble soul. Everything about him wasgood."

  She took my hand and held it against her cheek. "Matt, he was so kind.That was what . . . He was . . . all that I . . ." Her eyes werereflecting back the flames, now billowing into the pale afternoon sky.Around us the labs were emptying as technicians raced toward the lot,white coats fluttering.

  "You know, he said something to me today. About you . . ."

  "What?" She glanced up, her face streaked. "What did he

  say?"

  "He must have known there was danger. He sort of asked me to look outfor you."

  "Danger?" She looked back at the wreckage, and a new tear trailed downher left cheek. "I guess we don't really know for sure, do we? Maybe itwas just a fuel tank rupture, or . . ."

  "You don't believe that."

  "No." The tears, abruptly, were gone. "Matsuo Noda just took away theone . . . Matt, I'm going to kill him."

  It was a sentiment I shared in buckets. The question was merely how.Medieval torture seemed too kind. I started to say something inane, andthen, finally, the shocking truth landed with the force of that lastexplosion.

  "Tam, that was supposed to be us." I was gazing at the flames, watchingtalons of metal contort in the heat. "Noda thought we were going to beon that copter."

  "My God, of course."

  "We've got to get out of here. Now. There's nothing anybody can do forKen."

  "I'm not leaving till I've settled the score."

  "Be reasonable. T
here's no way we can do it here. This is Noda's turf."I was urging her to her feet. "We'll find a way. All I ask is that heknow we were the ones who did him in."

  "But how can we just leave?"

  "What else are we supposed to do? There's nothing left." I tried totake her hand. "Come on."

  She finally relented and, with one last tearful stare, turned to followme back to the car. By then a crowd of technicians was surging inaround us.

  Ken's blue Toyota was still running. Without a word she buckled in,shoved the stick into gear, and turned for the exit, whereupon shebarely avoided colliding with the first racing fire engine.

  "Look, are you okay? I can drive if you . . ."

  "Matt, don't say anything more, please." The tears had vanished. "Can Ijust think for a while? Just give me some quiet to think." She wasgripping the wheel with raw anger. "Please."

  "You've got it."

  By the time we reached the highway, she was driving mechanically butwith absolute precision, almost as though tragedy had somehow sharpenedher reflexes, her logical processes.

  It's a curious thing, but different people respond differently todisaster, and Tam was one of those rare few who become harder, notsofter. I could see it in her eyes. As the minutes ticked by, and wereached the packed thoroughfare that would take us south, it even gotto be a little unsettling. What in hell was going through her head?

  Finally, after about an hour of bumper-to-bumper freeways, I couldn'ttake the silence any more. Without asking anybody's permission, Ireached over and clicked on the radio. It was set for a classicalstation, the music Chopin. Was this Ken's regular fare? I wondered. Washe a romantic at heart or a classicist? Guess I'd never know . . .that, or much of anything else about him. Which thought brought with ita renewed sadness. Kenji Asano was a man of the East who was as much ofthe West as anybody I'd ever met in Japan. I'd wanted him for a friend.

  When you get to be my age, you don't make too many new friends, notreal ones. After forty, it's acquaintances. The roots of truefriendship extend so deep that there's never really time to plant themif you start too late. Maybe it's because there's always a partmissing, that shared experience of being young and crazy and broke.Those times back when you both still believed anything was possible.New friends can't begin sentences with "Remember that weekend beforeyou were married when we got drunk and . . ." Getting old is tough, andthat's one of the toughest parts. But somehow I felt, with Ken, thatI'd known him forever. Could be that's absurd, but I really did. Soquite apart from the tragedy of his death, I felt cruelly robbed. Itsounds selfish, maybe, but it's the truth. A sad but true truth.

  I was still thinking those thoughts when the four-o'clock newscast cameon. For a moment neither of us noticed, but then Tam snapped alert andturned up the volume. The report was opening with a live remote fromTsukuba Science City. I couldn't really follow very well, but sherealized that and began to translate as it went along.

  ". . . was the first tragedy of its kind for the ministry, and thereare widespread calls for an official inquiry. Dr. Kenji Asano,nationally known director of The Institute for New Generation ComputerTechnology, died today here at Tsukuba Science City when a MITIhelicopter, an Aerospatiale Twin Dauphin, crashed due to a malfunction.No cause has yet been ascertained for the accident, which also took thelife of the pilot, Yuri Hachiro, a MITI veteran with fifteen years ofservice. The condition of the wreckage has made it impossible todetermine how many other passengers may have been on board, althoughMITI sources report that two visiting American scientists are alsothought to have been traveling with Dr. Asano. Their names are beingwithheld by the ministry at this time, pending the completion of a fullinvestigation. . . .

  Next came an interview with a MITI official, after which the reporteroffered a wrap-up.

  ". . . believe Dr. Asano's death represents a significant blow toseveral vital sectors of MITI's computer race with America. However,the vice minister has assured NHK that MITI's research effort willredouble its commitment to . . ."

  Tam clicked it off. "Two birds with one stone."

  "What?"

  "Matt, by bringing down the 'copter with all three of us in it, he wasplanning to stop MITI and us both. Now he may think he did."

  "You're right." I looked at her, and finally understood the real importof the crash. "Which means we're now officially dead. If nobody elseknows we weren't on that chopper, why would Noda?"

  She didn't answer for a long moment. Finally she said, "Maybe thatgives us the time we'll need."

  "Time to nail him."

  "Right. I've been thinking. About what it all means."

  "Noda's play?"

  "Not just that. I'm talking about Japan. Everything. You know, thiscountry could lead the world someday, maybe even now, if it wanted. Ithas the finest schools, the most disciplined people; it's not hung upon a lot of 'superpower' male-macho bullshit. It could be a beacon inthe dark, a force for good. But what has Noda done? He's turned it allupside down. He's exploited the noble things about Japan for his ownselfish ends. Greed and power."

  "Lucifer, the fallen angel. Who walked out on the Kingdom?"

  "I guess so. But I'm also thinking about what he did to me. Heexploited the fact I was part Japanese, that I understand the potentialthis country has. He made me think that's what I would be helping himrealize. But all along he intended to pervert it. He's perverted us,Matthew. Both of us. Perverted us and used us. And now that we're nolonger needed, he's tried to kill us."

  "High time we evened things out."

  "Damned right. I learned a lot when I lived here. About the Japanesemind. And you understand legal tactics. Swordsmanship. I think we'reready."

  "Ready?"

  "To turn our knowledge against him."

  "Start probing for the niche in his armor?"

  "No. There's no time for that." She was silent for a moment, as thoughpreparing her words. "We've got to just sink him. Obliterate Dai Nippontotally. And with it Matsuo Noda."

  "You mean . . . go public about the sword? The problem with that is . .."

  "Exactly. Everything's destroyed. So why not forget about the sword fora while? Whatever you know about it, at this point that's just yourword against his. I mean we have to bring the whole thing down."

  "Tam, we're talking billions of dollars. This could take a while. Thatnumber is a little hard to argue with."

  "But what if that's both his strength and his weakness." She glancedover at me. "Look, I've been thinking about what we might try. Maybethere is a way."

  "To assault him on the money front?"

  "Right, but we'll need your friend Bill Henderson. Think he'd help?"

  I nodded. "If you want him, I'll see that he pitches in."

  "Good." She turned her eyes back to the road. "Matt, I'm

  Fujiwara. Did I ever tell you that? And a Fujiwara's duty is to protectthe emperor of Japan. For a thousand years it's been their job."

  She'd cracked. Begun talking gibberish. "What's that got to do with--?"

  "Noda thinks he's going to exploit the Emperor. Well, he's got a bigsurprise in store. I am now going to use Dai Nippon to destroy him andthen drive a stake into DNI's heart. Matthew, I'm going to make MatsuoNoda's billions just disappear."

  "That's impossible."

  "Watch me."