Rules of the Hunt (50 page)
Adachi thought of the suspected leak in Keishicho — or was it the
prosecutor's office
?
—
and
the blunt fact that he no longer knew whom to trust except, irony of ironies,
for the Irishman.
He nodded.
"Let's go for a stroll," he said.
"There is a place we can talk in private
and someone I would like you to meet again, a Sergeant Akamatsu."
"The veteran in the police box," said Fitzduane.
"The man with the
all-knowing eyes.
He wasn't too
happy I messed up his pavement, but lead on."
As Fitzduane was about to leave the hotel, he took a call from
Yoshokawa.
The Namakas regretted the
delay, but one of the brothers had been away and both would like to meet
Fitzduane-
san
.
An appointment had been arranged for that
afternoon.
A car would arrive after
lunch to take Fitzduane-
san
to the
"So they are sniffing the bait, Yoshokawa-
san
," said Fitzduane.
"Be careful all they do is sniff," said Yoshokawa.
"These are very dangerous people."
"I'll hang garlic around my neck," said Fitzduane, "and
maybe take a few other precautions.
But,
what the hell, it should be interesting."
*
*
*
*
*
Fitzduane returned from his lengthy discussion with Adachi and Sergeant
Akamatsu just before lunch and opted to eat in his room.
It made his Tokyo MPD minders happier when he was not sitting exposed in
a public place, and he wanted to do some thinking.
In a couple of hours' time, he was going to
meet and exchange pleasantries with two people, the Namaka brothers, who he had
every reason to believe had tried repeatedly to kill him.
The anticipation gave him a strange feeling.
Fear and anger were components, but there
were also elements of uncertainty.
The
initiative was still in his enemies' hands, and although he had many reasons to
believe that the Namakas were behind the assassination attempts, he still had
no legal proof.
They would have to make
the fist move or he could do nothing; or he could cross a line he preferred not
to cross.
He could not kill on mere suspicion.
There had to be some core values to live by, even in this confusing and
dangerous world.
Kilmara had chastised
him for a lack of ruthlessness on occasions in the past, but the simple fact
that he could not change.
He had been
brought up to believe in some standards, and there it was.
Even to protect his own life and that of his
child, he could not exercise lethal force unprovoked.
He ordered a sandwich and a glass of white wine and ran a bath.
The food arrived within minutes, but was
actually delivered by a smiling Sergeant Oga.
He was becoming quite good friends with the sergeant, and the minders
were not overly keen on an assassin disguised as room service.
As they learned Fitzduane's ways, they were
getting very good at their job.
Surveillance was comprehensive but unobtrusive.
Nonetheless, it was a bloody nuisance.
Fitzduane liked wandering around strange
cities on his own, and being part of an armed convoy definitely took some of
the spontaneity out of the whole business.
You could not really act the relaxed tourist when surrounded by a bunch
of submachine-gun-toting cops, even if they did keep their weapons in shoulder
bags.
The submachine guns had been added
after the Yasukini-dori business.
If the
yakuza
wanted to play hardball, the
to fuck around, and they were quick students.
Insofar as any
gaijin
ever
could, Fitzduane reflected, he was now beginning to get a handle on how the various
players such as Hodama, the Namakas, Yoshokawa, and the others fitted in.
A fresh element in the Namaka equations was
their possible involvement in supplying embargoed equipment to
Kilmara had explained briefly in an encrypted
phone call to Fitzduane in the relatively secure environs of the Irish Embassy,
but he had been rushed and the communication had been short on detail.
All Fitzduane had understood was that intelligence reports indicated that
the Namakas and some of their personnel from Namaka Special Steels were having
secret negotiations with the North Korean nuclear people, and it might well
behoove Fitzduane to watch his ass, because the stakes could be even higher
than originally thought.
On the other
hand, it could prove helpful if he kept his eyes open.
No one knew exactly what was going on.
The intelligence reports were a mixture of
scant fact and liberal extrapolation.
Disturbingly, the final conclusion of the analysis was that all of this
could involve the production by the North Koreans of nuclear weapons.
Kilmara had finished the conversation by pointing out that Fitzduane's
Japanese hosts might not be too enthusiastic about the Namakas' possible
arms-trading coming to light.
"My guess," Kilmara had said, "is that the local
fuzz—"
"Adachi — the Tokyo MPD," Fitzduane had interrupted.
"—won't know about the nuclear thing, but that
their security people will want to keep it very quiet.
The Japanese depend on international trade
and the
to be found peddling nuclear-weapons manufacturing plants to Uncle Sam's
enemies.
We're talking serious vested
interests here, so watch it."
"While watching my ass, what am I supposed to be looking for?"
said Fitzduane.
"They could show me
a complete hydrogen-bomb plant and tell me it made chocolate bars and I would
be none the wiser.
A nuclear expert I am
not."
"Look, I'm just passing on the ruminations of the spooks," said
Kilmara.
"Just keep your eyes open
and remember
The land mass of
Fitzduane recalled, was actually just under a hundred and forty-six thousand
square miles, or just over half the size of
Sometimes Kilmara's comments could be unhelpful.
He ate his sandwich, then soaked in his bath and sipped his wine.
The thought occurred to him that although
Adachi, and indeed the DSG, might not be in the need-to-know loop, Koancho, the
security service, almost certainly was.
Which explained Chifune's presence and raised strong questions
about her own personal agenda.
The
gaijin
had been brought
over to help break the impasse in the Hodama investigation, but supposing
Fitzduane-
san
found out something
which could embarrass Japanese interests?
He hopped out of the bath and toweled vigorously while singing an old
Irish Army marching song,
then
dressed for the
occasion.
Lightweight dark-blue suit,
pale-blue shirt, regimental tie, silk socks, highly polished loafers.
He examined himself in the mirror and decided
he looked the very model of a
sarariman
.
All he was missing was the corporate pin.
He checked his throwing knives and the compact Calico automatic, and was
just holstering the latter when his phone rang.
The limousine of the Namaka Corporation had arrived.
He picked up the gift he had brought for the
Namaka brothers and left.
His interpreter,
Chifune, was waiting for him in the lobby.
She bowed, as any well-mannered interpreter would do, but when she rose
he saw once again that enigmatic smile.
He was about to wave her through the door ahead of him, then remembered
how the Japanese did such things.
He
grinned at Chifune, then walked out ahead and was ushered first into the
waiting black limousine.
The uniformed
chauffeur wore white gloves and the seats had white head protectors like those
in an airline.
The Namaka corporate
crest was discreetly painted on the limousine doors.
As they drove north toward Ikeburo and
of the Namakas and tried to imagine what bombed-out postwar
near-starving teenagers whose father had just been executed.
He almost felt sympathy for the Namakas, until he remembered the slicing
of the bullet as it drew blood from his little son's head.
He as acutely conscious of Chifune's physical presence beside him on the
rear seat, quiet and demure as befitted her interpreter role.
*
*
*
*
*
The
Fumio Namaka leaned back in his chair and steepled his hands in thought.
The
gaijin
Fitzduane was due
shortly, and he wanted to satisfy himself that he had considered and provided
for all the issues involved.
The news from
Korea
What had seemed like a wild card now looked
like it was turning into a financial windfall, and just at the right time.
It would tip the balance.
Namaka Industries would survive.
Fumio had been very much against the idea of
supplying the North Koreans with nuclear plants, but Kei had argued strongly in
favor and he had turned out to be right.
Frankly, Kei's investment enthusiasms rarely worked out, but the
It was at last becoming clear who was behind the Hodama killings and the
financial onslaught on the Namaka's empire.
A vast counterintelligence exercise and the calling-in of favors at the
highest government, civil service, and corporate levels had uncovered a trial
that had led in the end to the Katsuda-
gumi
.
It was a much-feared and respected
organization, the second-largest
yakuza
gang in
but as to why the Katsuda people were mounting such a vicious and deadly
campaign against the Namakas was a complete mystery.
Perhaps they were merely fronting for some other
faction.
It was hard to be certain.
Attempts to make direct contact through a
highly respected and neutral intermediary had been rebuffed.
Still, whether they were the principals or not, the Katsuda-
gumi
were certainly heavily involved and
there was now a specific opponent to fight.
This was hugely encouraging.
The
Namakas had been in such wars before and had always emerged triumphant.
And recently, there were signs that the tide
was beginning to turn in the Namaka's favor.
The Namaka share prices were starting to perform in line with the market
again.
Contacts
who
had been mysteriously unavailable were starting to return calls and pay their
respects.
Damage control to compensate
for the loss of the Hodama patronage was working.
It had been a matter of rearranging certain key elements in the extensive
Namaka network of influence, and that had taken time, but now the new
arrangements were in place and the Namakas were on the offensive.
The Katsuda-
gumi
would soon
learn the reality of true power.
Shortly,
a Yaibo killing team would commence a campaign of selective assassination
against the Katsuda-
gumi
, and other
initiatives would be implemented.
Even
their hideous leader, rarely seen by any outsider, would find
himself
vulnerable.
The Namaka brothers were old hands at fighting this kind of gang
warfare.
And they would have the tacit
support of the police, once this Hodama business was put aside.
The police were rarely much concerned about the
yakuza
being cut down to size, providing ordinary citizens were not
harmed.
The
yakuza
were tolerated because some organization was needed — even
in crime — but the police were still their enemies.
In contrast, the Namakas headed a powerful
industrial group and had friends in the highest places.