She slid a hand toward a control panel set in an arm of her own chair. “Do you want me to put down the privacy screen? Shut out the game noise?”
“No. You enjoy for me.” Raising a hand, he ran it back through thinning black hair. “I have my own privacy screen.”
As he turned and walked toward the back of the executive suite he knew she was worried about him. It could not be helped. He could hide his feelings from others, but not from her. Sakiko had been the same way, aware of his true emotions no matter how hard he tried to hide them, perceptive in that pseudo-telepathic fashion known only to wives.
His underlings and executives were skilled, competent, even sympathetic, but none of them was a partner like Sakiko.
The back room of a private suite in a baseball stadium would have struck some as a strange place in which to keep a loved one’s cremated remains, but where Hideo was a willing fan of the game, Sakiko had been committed. Instructions for the location of her haka, her grave, had been explicit. They had discussed it in some detail when the sickness had turned serious. Locating the haka in the stadium was a compromise, since he had drawn the line at scattering her ashes on the pitcher’s mound.
The lighting in the small room was appropriately subdued. Several small pillars and tablets stood grouped together near the back wall. All had been cut and polished from solid African malachite—green had been Sakiko’s favorite color. Taking a large bottle of fresh water from a nearby cabinet he proceeded to clean everything, then used traditional bucket and dipper to perform the purifying kiyomeru. In lieu of fresh flowers there was a profusion of artificial orchids and other exotic blooms that had been hand-wrought with such skill that they were impossible to tell from the real thing. Adjustable electronic candles glowed inside the twin silver holders. They brightened automatically at his approach.
Taking a stick of self-igniting incense from an open box, he flicked it alight and placed it lovingly in the empty holder. As there was still green tea in the open crystal decanter nearby, he felt no need to add more.
Kneeling before the haka, he sat back on his ankles, pressed his fingers together in front of him, closed his eyes, and bowed. These days his ankles hurt when he knelt in the proper position, but as always he ignored the pain, joking to himself that Sakiko would have appreciated the sacrifice. Straightening, he put his hands on his hips and regarded the grave.
“I have no offering for you today, Sakiko, save that the Swallows are winning.” He smiled to himself. “Knowing you, that should be enough. Meanwhile, the problem I spoke to you about last time remains and I—I don’t know what to do. We still do not know who is responsible and, not knowing, there is no way to direct a response. It seems as if our people are getting closer to an answer, but the departure time for the ship is also growing nearer. This interference has to be eliminated.
“The Jutou Combine is still under suspicion, but it seems as if other forces may be at work. While our people continue to work hard to find the necessary answers, there are no specifics as yet on which we can act.” He shook his head slightly. “I cannot move, cannot give orders, without specifics. I am a general whose troops must dodge incoming arrows, but who cannot see the enemy bowmen.”
He stayed like that until the pain in his knees and ankles threatened to turn them numb. The last thing he wanted to have to do was hit the wall-mounted emergency button that would bring someone into the room to help him stand. It required a bit of a struggle, but he managed to rise to his feet on his own.
“I miss you, Sakiko. I miss your counsel, your touch, your smile. I miss you jumping up and down like a child when one of the Swallows hits a home run or steals a base. I miss the way you looked at company functions, wearing your gowns and jewels. I even miss your nagging, which was usually but not always grounded in some truth. I miss…”
He stopped. It would not do to return to the game with tears in his eyes. He was Hideo Yutani, CEO and president of the Weyland-Yutani corporation. Men in his position did not cry. They gave orders in a quiet but stern voice. They commanded respect. Even while watching a baseball game.
His people here and in London were closing in on whoever was behind the repeated attempts to destroy the mission. They had to be. The departure of the Covenant could not be delayed, much less cancelled. Those who were trying to stop its departure would be identified. Then they would be dealt with.
Quietly but sternly.
Once more he bowed. Then he turned and left the room and the glowing electronic lights and the smell of expensive incense. Leaving them to a part of his life he had been forced to put behind him.
Another part of that life was waiting anxiously for his return. Spinning her chair, Jenny Yutani almost rose to embrace her father, but decided against it. She knew the display might unsettle him, which would be counterproductive. He could be affectionate, but immediately after communing with his dead wife wasn’t the best time to seek such reassurance. Even a man as tough as Hideo Yutani was not immune to emotional excess.
Seeing her expression, however, he hastened to reassure her. “I’m better now. Being in the presence of your mother always helps to relax me.”
“That’s not what you used to say when she would follow you around the house screaming at you.”
The smile remained. “Your mother never screamed at me. She simply emphasized the points she wished to make, and did it in an elevated tone of voice.” He nodded toward the field. “How is the game progressing?”
She made a face. “Not good. Otami hit a grand slam for the Tigers. We’re only up one run now.”
“Damn.” He resumed his seat nearby. “I’m not in the mood for extra innings.”
“I’ll check the defibrillator.” She smiled. “Never let it be said that I didn’t look after my father.”
He had to laugh, albeit softly. “I feel fine, really. Let’s watch the rest of the game.”
It took eleven innings, but the Swallows won on a steal of home off a bunt single. When the game was over he had dinner delivered to the suite. Over synthetic veal, vegetables, and wine sourced from some of the last surviving vineyards in New Zealand, he was comfortable enough again to ask her opinion. Though he never referred to it as advice, only opinion, both of them knew exactly how he felt about her counsel.
“The investigation appears to be progressing in London,” he told her as they awaited a small dessert.
“Then what’s the problem?” She sipped her Perrier, a wonderful product and company Yutani Corporation had purchased decades earlier.
“It is not progressing fast enough.” Picking his napkin off his lap, he tossed it onto the table. He didn’t feel like dessert. Jenny could have his as well as her own, if she wished. “The closer the time comes for the Covenant to depart, the more uneasy I become.”
She considered. “Everything these unknown people have tried so far has failed.”
“True, but their efforts grow bolder, and thus far we have been fortunate. If not for the tracking devices embedded in your shoes and your coolness in deploying them, the attempt to abduct you might have succeeded. If not for the experience and awareness of our employees—Daniels on the Covenant and Sergeant Lopé in London—either of those efforts might have succeeded.” Sitting up straighter, he folded his hands on the table and eyed her earnestly. “One can play pachinko all day and win, and then rapidly lose everything. You know me, Jenny. I dislike relying on something as insubstantial as luck.”
Dessert arrived in the form of two small cups of freshly made green tea sorbet flavored with pomegranate. His daughter finished one in less than a minute before settling down to a more leisurely reduction of the second.