Rules of the Hunt (30 page)
It was an ideal location for Kei Namaka's purposes.
He found the naked power of so many of the
production processes an inspiration, and certain of the facilities a
convenience.
His favorite items of equipment
were the giant forging press — which could mold white-hot forty-ton ingots as
if they were plasticine — and the tempering ovens.
The ovens, some bigger than a railway
carriage, were used to change the molecular structure of steel by the
application of heat, and could reach 1,400 degrees centigrade.
When open, radiating the incredible
destructive power of pure heat, they looked like the gates of Hell.
Kei Namaka had had a private
dojo
,
a training room for martial arts, constructed high up in the Special Steels
facility.
One wall was of
shoji
screens.
When they were pulled back, it was possible
to see through one-way glass the giant forging press and the ovens below.
A bank of television monitors and one giant
screen offered close-up observation of the factory floor and the various manufacturing
processes.
Kei's interest in the martial arts stemmed for the fundamental need to
survive in the confused and desperate environment that was the
Most of his opponents had been unskilled
thugs whom he had easily been able to overcome, given his natural speed,
height, and strength; but an encounter with a seasoned
yakuza
of the old school, who had actually taken the time to master
his weapons taught him the lesson that youth and brute force alone were not
enough.
The grizzled gangster had disarmed Kei and was just about to kill him,
when Fumio shot the man in the thigh.
Guns were rare then and seldom used, but Fumio always used one in those
days to compensate for his physical weakness.
He was a terrible shot.
Kei had completed the termination of the
yakuza
with a thrust to the stomach, and he swore, as he watched
the man writhe, that he would never again be outclassed.
After a suitable interval, he had then
decapitated his victim and gone to find the best
sensei
he could.
The
cleaning-up had been left to Fumio, who was good at that sort of thing and
rarely failed to turn adversity into a benefit.
The
yakuza
's body was encased
in concrete and dumped in
His head was embalmed in
sake
and sent back to his boss in a lacquer box.
Those were the days, thought Kei, good days in their way.
That lacquer-box business was typical of how
the brothers had prospered in the earlier years.
His strong right arm and Fumio's brain had
been a complementary combination, and then Hodama-
sensei
had taken them under his wing and their rise had
accelerated, but their world had also become more complex.
Fumio was in his element.
Kei was
confused by the endless complexities.
He
let the
kuromaku
and his brother get
on with it and devoted as much of his time as he could to
bujutsu
, the martial arts, and above all to
iai-do
, the art of swordsmanship.
For much of the time, Kei Namaka wore a business suit and availed
himself of all modern conveniences as required, but in his heart and dreams he
was a
samurai
, a warrior and soldier
like his father and his ancestors before him.
The helicopter set down on the landing pad on the roof of the Namaka
Special Steels building and Kei jumped out into the brightly lit area.
Armed company guards saluted, their uniforms
whipping in the downdraft of the rotors as he strode impatiently toward the
private elevator that linked with his office and the
dojo
below.
Kei took a quick shower and changed into
kendo
costume.
Kendo
was a poor imitation of sword
fighting, in Kei's opinion, but it was an excellent sport in its own right, and
vigorous exercise, and his security chief, Kitano-
sensei
, was an effective teacher and opponent.
They fought wearing full
kendo
armor; the
keikogi
, the loose-fitting
quilted cotton jacket that both protected against bruising blows and also
absorbed perspiration; the
hakamu
,
the divided skirt made of cotton;
tare
,
the multilayered stiff cotton waist and hip protector; the
do
, the chest armor made of strips of heavy bamboo lashed in place
vertically and covered with heavy hide and lacquered leather; the
hachimaki
, the towel-like cotton cloth
wrapped around the head to keep sweat from the eyes and also act as a
cushioning for the helmet; the
men
,
the helmetlike combination face mask and head protector made of steel bars and
heavy, layered cotton; and finally the
kote
,
long leather padded gloves which also protected the lower arms.
Their feet were bare.
They fought for over ninety minutes.
The
dojo
echoed to the sound of
rapidly moving bare feet on the polished hardwood floor, the creak of armor,
the controlled rasping of breath, and the clashing of
shinai
, the split bamboo fencing foils.
Halfway through the practice session, four men came into the room.
Two were Namaka employees and reported
directly to Kitano.
The two visitors
they were escorting were
interi
yakuza
, the new so-called intellectual
gangsters who specialized in financial racketeering.
Their specialty was property fraud and their
area was
Recently, with the decline in value of the
dollar, returns from that area had been disappointing.
Iced tea was served, and the visitors, wearing the slippers provided,
watched the training session with interest, shouting applause and clapping as
points were scored.
The two Namaka men
stood in the background, their hands folded in front of them.
The senior of the visitors thought that Kei Namaka looked quite
magnificent.
His
kendo
armor was crimson and his
do
was embossed in gold with the Namaka crest.
He looked every inch the traditional
samurai
he aspired to be.
In contrast, Kitano,
in dull-black armor, seemed insignificant, despite his unquestioned technical
proficiency.
The practice session ended with a spectacular blow to the throat by Kei
and a laugh from Kitano.
"Namaka-
san
, you will soon be
sensei
," he said.
Kei bowed toward the master.
"The skill of the pupil is but a tribute to the quality of the
teaching."
Kei and Kitano greeted their visitors,
then
went
to bathe and change.
Meanwhile, the
screens were pulled back and the two
yakuza
were entertained by watching the activity on the floor below.
Both men were a little awed and impressed by
what they saw.
Iron and steel they
associated with solidity and strength.
Here it was being shaped and formed as if the effort were nothing.
It was a stunning impression of power.
There was
a dynamism
about such heavy industrial processes that made them compelling to watch.
Kei and Kitano returned after twenty minutes.
Both were wearing the customary house clothes
of a
samurai
and each had the traditional
two swords that went with the rank, placed as normal in the sash of his
kimono.
The right of wearing two swords
had been abolished by imperial decree over two hundred years earlier, but in
their private homes some traditionalists continued the custom.
The two men and their visitors sat down cross-legged on
tatami
mats facing across a low
table.
Sake
and
sushi
were
brought.
Kei and Kitano made a point of
filling their guests' cups.
The
atmosphere was one of relaxation.
Nonetheless, there were a few matters of business to be discussed before
they could devote themselves completely to enjoying themselves.
The senior gangster was relieved.
His conscience was not entirely clear.
On the other hand, he had rarely seen the
chairman in better spirits.
"I confess I am a little puzzled," Kei said to him with a
smile.
"We have invested several
billion yen in those beautiful islands and the return has not quite been what
we expected.
Perhaps you could
explain.
I am not a financial expert
like my brother, but I suppose I should try and understand.
Frankly, I find most of these schemes above
me.
I prefer the simplicity of the
dojo
."
He laughed and his two visitors laughed with him.
The senior gangster was grateful for the
extra time to think, and he composed his answer with care.
Kitano did not laugh, but smiled
slightly.
The man did not notice.
His attention was focused on the chairman.
Kei refilled all the glasses and smiled
encouragingly.
"The dollar has sunk dramatically and unexpectedly," said the
man.
"That means that when we make
our returns to
shrunk.
Actually, in dollar terms, it is
as planned.
It is merely when
denominated in yen that it appears to be below our target."
The chairman nodded and was silent, as if pondering this.
Then he spoke again.
"But surely, since we are continuing to
invest in yen with fresh funds, the stronger yen should be buying us more.
We should be getting more assets for our
money."
The man nodded in agreement.
"That is so," he said, "or would be so if no other money
were coming in from
Unfortunately, many other organizations have
the same idea as we do, and they are bidding up the price of property in
Accordingly, our investments are costing us
more than we originally planned."
He was sweating a little.
The
dojo
was air-conditioned, but the heat
from the steel works below seemed to make
itself
felt.
Or perhaps it was his
imagination.
The man tried to keep his
mind clear of the numbered bank account in the
Islands
The transactions
had all been in cash.
There was no paper
trail.
It had been very discreet
skimming.
The chairman spoke again.
"Kitano-
san
," he
said, gesturing with his left hand at the security chief, who sat beside him,
"
has
interviewed some six of the vendors of
property that we purchased.
They all
confirmed that what you say is true.
Demand had bid up supply."
The gangster's heart had been pounding, but at Kei's reassuring words he
felt a flood of relief.
Then Kitano
spoke.
"The chairman is talking
about the initial interviews," he said, with a thin smile, "but it is
in the nature of my responsibility to be thorough.
Further interviews — conducted with some
vigor by my staff — revealed an interesting reason for the high prices."
He removed a folded sheet of paper from his sleeve, unfolded it, and
placed it carefully in front of the man.
The paper listed the
The amounts were accurate to the nearest yen.
The gangster had insisted on payment in
yen.
He had little faith in the
long-term strength of the dollar.
How
could you have faith in a country that would sell anything and everything for a
profit?
The Americans had already sold
half of
The Statue of Liberty would be next.
They were unprincipled.
His focus had been on the paper.
It was, he knew, his death warrant, unless he could act quickly.
Dread filled his heart.
He glanced at his companion.
The other
yakuza
was shaking with fear.
There would not
be much help from there.
He looked
across at the chairman.
Namaka-
san
seemed almost to be in a
trance.
There might just be a chance to
grab one of the swords from his waist and make a run for it.