Rules of the Hunt (51 page)
Kitano's abuse of authority had been extremely convenient.
It was outrageous that he should have mounted
an assassination attempt on this
gaijin
Fitzduane without getting permission, but fortunately all avenues led to and
stopped at him.
He was a perfect
scapegoat, not just for the Fitzduane attacks, but also for whatever else the
Namakas were suspected of — even Hodama.
He had been found out to be a rogue element.
A single corrupt employee had scant
significance in the scheme of things.
The Namakas were, of course, above such behavior.
Their
bun
— the rights pertaining to their station in life — made this clear by
implication.
A rank-and-file
yakuza
or a junior employee might be
made subject to special police interrogation, but those at the level of the
Namakas were, for all practical purposes, immune.
Even the much-feared Tokyo Prosecutor's
Office treated those at the highest level with respect.
This was
society.
Rank was everything.
Ironically, it did not matter whether anyone believed Kitano had acted
independently or not.
The important
thing was that it was a story which could save
face
all round.
The
tatemae
was what was important.
Fumio was reminded of the American phrase ‘plausible deniability.’
The
gaijin
Fitzduane remained a
loose end.
Left to
himself
,
Fumio was all for leaving him alone and concentrating on more important
issues.
Three failed assassination
attempts suggested he was an unusually hard man to kill and, really, they had
satisfied their obligation to their dead associate by severely wounding the
gaijin
.
Enough was enough.
Unfortunately, Kei — who combined a limited intellect with mule-like
stubbornness — did not see things this way.
He had taken their failure personally and was being extremely bullheaded
about it.
His pride was hurt, and he
took Fitzduane's continued survival as an ongoing affront.
He argued that there was more to the Irishman
than they knew and that he was certainly an agent sent to secure the Namakas'
downfall.
Frankly, some of Kei's
comments were excessive, but the result was straightforward enough.
Kei Namaka wanted the
gaijin
, Fitzduane-
san
,
dead, and if the hired help were not competent to do the job, he would carry
out the task himself.
Fumio had pointed out that surveillance and informers had confirmed that
the
gaijin
was under around-the-clock
police protection, but his big brother had been adamant.
He was going to kill Fitzduane and he would
not be stopped.
It was now a matter of
giri
.
Reluctantly, Fumio had agreed, and had then applied his considerable
brain to devising a method which would allow Kei his way without fear of
discovery.
He had come up with a good plan, he thought.
The
gaijin
's
own initiative — his desire to see the steel plant, as communicated by
Yoshokawa-
san
, who had set up the
meeting — would be turned against him
.
The plan had pleased Kei
greatly.
The
gaijin
would not just be killed, but he would literally evaporate.
Thrown inside a tempering oven set to its highest temperature, his body
fluids — the bulk of a corpse — would soon boil away and the small residue
would turn to gas.
It was a scientific
truth that matter could not be destroyed, but its substance could certainly be
altered.
A gaseous Fitzduane would not
pose a problem, whatever it might do for global warming.
His telephone buzzed, and a respectful voice announced that the
gaijin
Fitzduane-
san
's party had arrived at the security desk at the base of the
The call reminded Fumio to clear his
desk.
The meeting was to be in the conference
room, but one could never be too careful.
All was secure.
After a final
glance, he limped to the meeting.
*
*
*
*
*
After Chifune had introduced her
gaijin
employer at the first-floor reception desk, a uniformed OL came forward and
bowed deeply toward Fitzduane and more moderately at Chifune.
She then spoke, and Chifune translated near-simultaneously.
In fact, Chifune was so good at translation
that Fitzduane realized it must have been part of her Koancho training.
He wondered how many trade delegates admiring
their attractive interpreter realized that they were under observation by the
security services.
Well, doubtless the
CIA and God
knows
who else were doing the same thing
at the other end.
"
and commerce," translated Chifune, her face a blank.
"The Higashi Ikeburo ramp of the Metropolitan
Expressway connects directly to the basement parking area of the complex, and
there is parking there for 1,800 cars.
shopping mall, a branch of the Mitsukoshi department store, many offices, a
convention center, and the world's highest aquarium."
Fitzduane blinked and tried hard to keep a straight face.
The Japanese had built an aquarium on the
site where their wartime leaders had been executed.
This was making pragmatism into a high
art.
Well, maybe it was better to forget
the past.
The Irish never forgot the
past and look what trouble the North was in.
Still, an aquarium!
He suppressed
a desire to rush away and reread
Alice in
Wonderland
.
"How high is the world's highest aquarium?" asked Fitzduane
politely.
"It's on the tenth floor," translated Chifune, "forty
meters above ground level.
It has 20,000
fish covering 620 different species, and fresh seawater from
natural."
Her mouth was beginning to
twitch.
"If I was a fish," said Fitzduane, "I couldn't imagine
anything less natural than being stuck in a tank ten floors up with 19,999
neighbors.
It sounds more like the
natural.
Still, to be fair, I am not a
fish."
Since Sunshine City looked solidly rooted in northern Tokyo and the sea
did not seem to be immediately available, he was dying to ask by what ingenious
method seawater was constantly supplied from Hachicho Island, wherever that
was, but then the elevator doors opened and their guide burst into action
again.
She had a cheerleader's energy
and enthusiasm packed into her neat little body.
Fitzduane half expected pom-poms to appear
any second, but her body language was repressed and demure.
The doors closed and the elevator took off like a rocket.
Fitzduane felt he had left his stomach
somewhere about the level of the fish, and there were still fifty more floors
to go.
"The
tallest occupied building in
translated Chifune, "and on a clear day you can see a hundred kilometers
in any direction, and even
You may also care to know that you are
standing in the world's fastest elevator, which will make the entire journey in
only thirty-five seconds.
Fitzduane's stomach had reappeared and was starting to go in the other
direction as they decelerated.
If the
Namakas went through this rocket trip twice a day, it was clear that he was up
against some fairly tough people.
"Doesn't this country have earthquakes?" said Fitzduane.
"Is it really a good idea to be this
high up when holes open up in the ground?"
There was no time for an answer.
The elevator came to a halt and the doors opened.
Facing him were two people who had casually arranged
to have him killed, who had threatened the very core of his family.
He smiled and stepped forward, the gift he had brought with him in his
left hand.
It was a carefully packaged,
handmade reproduction of a traditional Irish weapon, the Galloglass Axe, and
with its blade and handle it was nearly the height of an average Western
man.
It towered over the smaller
Japanese man, whom Fitzduane took to be the younger brother, Fumio.
Set against the tall, broad-shouldered Kei
Namaka, it looked to be a fair match.
17
June 19
Fumio Namaka had felt the chill fingers of fear caress his very soul the
first time he saw Fitzduane, and ten minutes into the meeting in the
luxuriously appointed conference room on the sixtieth floor of the
the grim feeling was still with him.
The
gaijin
had first come into
their lives as a matter of obligation.
At that time he had no substance, no reality.
He was a name on a piece of paper, a
photograph in a file.
Three failed assassination attempts later, and sitting across the table
at the very heart of the Namaka
empire
, the
gaijin
was another matter entirely.
This was a truly impressive man, confident
and at ease with himself.
He appeared
relaxed and to be enjoying the
discussion,
and it was
this very ease of manner, after he had been through so much, that convinced
Fumio that his brother was right.
Fitzduane was a fundamental threat and deserved to be taken most
seriously, for it they failed to destroy him quickly, he would be their
nemesis.
Looking across at Fitzduane, Fumio felt fear.
Of course, there was always the chance that
the
gaijin
actually knew nothing and
would accept the story about Kitano being responsible for everything, but Fumio
trusted his instincts.
The
gaijin
was a bringer of death.
Kei Namaka, at his very best in the role of concerned, socially
responsible captain of industry, was just expressing his shock at discovering
the scheming of the Namaka security chief.
"It seems, Fitzduane-
san
,"
he said, "that we have all been victims of a cunning man who grossly
abused his position.
My brother and I
were appalled to discover what our supposedly trusted employee was up to.
Kitano-
san
has brought the respected name of Namaka Industries into disrepute, and my
brother and I are extremely embarrassed by this.
We apologize without reservation for what
this renegade has done.
You must let us
make compensation, and of course we will do anything we can to make your trip
here more interesting an enjoyable."
Fitzduane was struck by the contrast between the two brothers.
Kei Namaka was truly a magnificent physical
specimen, tall, broad-shouldered, and with the kind of confidence-inspiring
good looks that would make him a natural for a business-magazine front
cover.
In contrast, Fumio, with his
thin, disfigured body, was a decidedly puny-looking specimen unless you looked
at him closely.
There was a deep
intelligence in those eyes.
The
physically unimpressive Fumio Namaka was, in Fitzduane's opinion, the one to
watch.
"Namaka-
san
," said Fitzduane.
"Your words are most gracious and are
deeply appreciated, but you employ tens of thousands of people and cannot
possibly be expected to be responsible for every one.
All of us have suffered.
I have had my life threatened, and you, I
understand, have lost a great deal of money to this man.
Well, let us think of ourselves as partners
in our misfortune and hopefully partners in a future in happier affairs, and
move on to more pleasant matters."
He smiled.