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 Hawaii. 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 Japan in yen — as we have been requested to do — our returns appear to have 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 Japan. Unfortunately, many other organizations have the same idea as we do, and they are bidding up the price of property in Hawaii. 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 Cayman 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 Cayman Islands account number and each of the hidden payments. 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 Hawaii and a goodly portion of California. 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.