The plan looked disconcertingly familiar to Katsuda. Typically, given Schwanberg's consistent thoughtlessness, it was upside down when viewed from the yakuza's direction, but it still looked very much like the drawing of the Hodama house they had used to plan the hit.
Katsuda was normally courteous, but years of dealing with Schwanberg had taught him that here was a man on whom politeness was wasted. The man had the sensitivity of a bucket of night soil.
"Schwanberg-san," said Katsuda with some asperity, "I have not the faintest idea what you are talking about."
The CIA man was practically chortling. "Fitzduane, the naïve prick, has set up Fumio Namaka for us. And with that gimpy fuck out of the way, we're home and dry as planned."
"A little detail would not go amiss," Schwanberg-san," said Katsuda dryly.
"Fitzduane came to see me," said Schwanberg. "He doesn't like me, but he thinks we're allies on this one. He wants Fumio out of the way and he knows we do too, so he has set it up that we — or, to be more precise, you — can finish the job. And the punch line is that the Irishman thinks Fumio was responsible for Adachi's death. Putting the bodies in the aquarium was a neat move. It was near enough the NamakaTower to be too much of a coincidence, in Fitzduane's opinion. It's beautiful."
Katsuda was feeling profoundly irritated with this uncouth idiot. He was beginning to have a glimmering of understanding, but he really could not see where the plan of Hodama's house came into the equation.
"Schwanberg-san," he said, "Since we moved on Hodama-san, I have had a team of people trying to get near the Namakas with absolutely no success. Fortunately, Kei Namaka is now dead, but since that happened, the security surrounding Fumio has tripled. He cannot be got at, and I fail to see how Fitzduane-san's involvement changes the situation."
Schwanberg leaned over the table toward the yakuza leader to emphasize his words. Katsuda stood in the shadows perhaps four feet away, but he still imagined he could feel Schwanberg's breath, and certainly the man's spittle as he spoke excitedly was no illusion. Katsuda stepped back in disgust.
"Let me make it simple, Katsuda," said Schwanberg. "What do you think Fumio wants most in the world right now? What does he have wet dreams about?"
Katsuda thought for a moment. It was not a difficult question to answer. He had studied Hodama and the Namakas in detail before making his move. "The Irishman has killed his brother," he said. "He wants Fitzduane-san's head on a plate." Katsuda smiled slightly. "After that, he probably wants mine."
Schwanberg beamed. "You're business, Katsuda. Fitzduane is personal. You're not even close."
"So Fitzduane is the bait," said Katsuda slowly. "He is the one reason Fumio will show himself."
Schwanberg nodded. "Very smart," he said. "What has actually happened is that Fitzduane approached Fumio directly and suggested a meet. His spiel is that there must be an end to the feud between them, now that Fitzduane has nearly been killed and lost his best friend and Fumio has lost his brother. And Fumio agreed to the meet, not with any peaceful intent but because he wants Fitzduane carved up so badly he can taste it."
"And where is this meeting?" said Katsuda.
"That's the elegant part of it," said Schwanberg. "Fitzduane came up with the great idea of using Hodama's place. He wanted some location that was private, convenient, and secure, and Hodama's walled garden was his suggestion. The premises are sealed off right now, but Fitzduane has been working with the cops and can gain access. It is just locked up these days. It's no longer guarded."
Katsuda pondered this for a few seconds. The idea of using Hodama's place was a clever idea. It met all the criteria for a meeting and it also was where the whole business had started. It would be fitting to end it there.
"I would assume that Fumio will take precautions," said Katsuda, "so how do you propose we do this, Schwanberg-san?" He will probably involve Yaibo, and they are no idle threat."
Schwanberg's hand came down flat on the table with a resounding crack, and the two sixth-century jade ornaments fell to the ground and shattered.
Katsuda felt ill. He valued his jade ornaments considerably more than he did most people. He wondered if Schwanberg had any idea how near death he was. If he was not so dependent on the man's backing, he would have Schwanberg killed painfully here and now. Well, even if Katsuda could not implement the thought for the time being, it was a soothing prospect to anticipate.
Schwanberg was so pleased with his cleverness that he had forgotten he had not followed up his triumphant table-pounding with words. He was just staring at Katsuda with a self-satisfied grin on his face.
"Well, Schwanberg-san?" said Katsuda.
"You'll have the edge, Katsuda-san," said Schwanberg. "It will be arranged that you and your people will be at the meet instead of Fitzduane, and we will run interference over the whole operation from on high. We'll have the whole thing covered. Night-vision equipment, sniper rifles, heavy firepower. That fuck Fumio won't have a chance."
Katsuda tried to imagine having a discreet meeting with Namaka while a swarm of armed helicopters clattered overhead, and came to the conclusion that Schwanberg must have been out in the sun in Vietnam too long.
"Helicopters are not entirely discreet," he said politely.
This time Schwanberg actually jumped up and down with excitement. "Not helicopters, Katsuda-san, we're going to use the airship. That giant, motherfucking inflated condom is part of the scenery in this city. If floats around and no one pays it the slightest bit of attention. We'll fuck Fumio from a height. It's brilliant."
Katsuda contemplated Schwanberg with surprise. Clearly there was more to this unpleasant man that he had thought. It really was a clever idea. Inspired, even. Then it dawned on him where the idea had probably come from.
"And the gaijin Fitzduane? Where will he be while I am disposing of Fumio Namaka?"
"Oh, he'll be in the airship," said Schwanberg. "As I'll explain, we need him to bait the trap. But when Fumio is terminated, Fitzduane-san will have an accident. Frankly, it will be a pleasure."
"So no witnesses?" said Katsuda.
Schwanberg had every intention of getting the killing of Fumio by Katsuda on video in close-up. The more strings he had to control his new kuromaku, the better. "No witnesses," he replied.
Katsuda smiled to himself in the darkness. Schwanberg's devious mind was not hard to read. He was already thinking of appropriate action. Perhaps the time had come for the renegade to have an accident. Have a crash, indeed, or fall from a height. The man's plan had interesting implications.
"Your proposal has great merit, Schwanberg-san," he said. "Let us now talk about the details."
"Fucking A," said Schwanberg, and as he leaned forward over the blueprint of Hodama's premises, his feet crunched on the shattered pieces of the ornaments.
Katsuda hissed.
Schwanberg, as normal for him where human sensitivities were involved, noticed nothing.
* * * * *
Bergin had gone to some lengths to arrive at Fitzduane's room in the Fairmont undetected.
The blond wig and moustache made him look ten years younger, and he was wearing an expensive double-breasted business suit and Guccis, but his principal coup de théâtre was the platinum-and-gold Rolex inset with diamonds and the matching identity bracelet on the other wrist.