The Japanese had a history of antipathy toward firearms. During their closed period, the Shogun had structured society in a strictly hierarchical fashion and guns had been seen as its antithesis.
Anyone could use a gun regardless of rank.
This would not do. Accordingly, although guns had been used widely in Japan in the fifteenth century, from the sixteenth century on they had been virtually banned. The peasants were forbidden to be armed. Only the various ranks of samurai were permitted to be armed, and even then only with swords, bows, and spears. So who said you could never turn back technological developments? The Japanese rejection of the gun had worked for nearly three hundred years.
Fitzduane had been well-briefed on the Hodama-Namaka-Yaibo triangle. He had been given an extensive dossier on the whole business, including a detailed summary of the police investigation to date. The file included photos of the principals, and he had been shown covert police videos. He felt he was beginning to know the opposition. He was even beginning to develop some theories as to what was going on.
Fitzduane's mind wandered onto the concept of ‘degrees of separation,’ the thesis that everybody, even in a world of five billion people, was only a handful of contacts away from everyone else. You always knew someone who knew someone who knew someone.
For instance, a perusal of the file revealed a shared interest with Kei Namaka in medieval weaponry. Namaka had even written several articles on Japanese arms for the Medieval Warrior's Society. Fitzduane was also a member.
In addition, Yoshokawa and the Namakas, as first-rank businessmen, were connected through the keidanren, the powerful Japanese employers' association. The keidanren was a major provider of finance for the LPD, the party whose strings Hodama had helped to pull before coming to a rather unpleasant end.
In Japan, it was not considered polite to approach an established figure directly. An introduction by a mutual friend or business contact of the appropriate status was essential. In Japan, everything and everybody was ranked. Yoshokawa-san would make the appropriate introduction. He scarcely knew the Namakas, but as the chairman of Yoshokawa Electronics and a fellow member of the Keidanren, he was entirely appropriate.
All in all, the whole damn thing was connected in one way or another. More and more it seemed to Fitzduane that the world was becoming a very small place. Very small and very dangerous.
He thought of Kathleen and Boots and what he was leaving behind, and then focused on what must be done.
Much later, he slept.
* * * * *
Tokyo, Japan
June 6
His uniformed driver, in the front row of the crowd at the arrivals gate, was holding up his white-gloved hands a sign labeled ‘Namaka Industries’ and bearing the group logo.
The security chief himself, Toshiro Kitano, was standing well back. As a senior executive, he would normally have sent an underling to greet someone at the airport, but this visitor was important. He was the chairman of a Japanese financial institution based in London who, according to the late Hodama, possessed a creative approach toward arbitrage and stock manipulation. The Namakas wanted to tap into his expertise and had been courting him for many months. The formalities would have to be observed punctiliously if negotiations were to be concluded successfully.
Kitano regarded waiting at airports as an activity he could do without. His driver could be counted on to spot the new arrival, so he was daydreaming absentmindedly. He nearly had a seizure when a tall, broad-shouldered gaijin metamorphosed in the middle distance into someone he thought had been left for near-dead in Ireland. His heart pounded so loudly, he felt that the people around him must be able to hear. His mouth went absolutely dry. A vein in his throat started to twitch.
This Fitzduane business had initially seemed an easy matter, and yet here was this gaijin of no consequence, not only fitter-looking than a man of his age had any right to be, but here in Tokyo! This was appalling. It was unforgivable. It would make for the most terrible loss of face.
The chairman that Kitano had been expecting approached through the crowd, guided by the driver. As he approached the Namaka director, he expected that Kitano would recognize him, show pleasure at his arrival after such a long and arduous trip, and bow deeply. These were the minimum courtesies he could expect.
Instead, Kitano, even after being respectfully reminded by his driver, stared like some idiot peasant.
The chairman's face froze.
I must kill this barbarian before anyone knows he is here, thought Kitano. Here and now amid all these people, it is impossible. I must find out where he is going, where he is staying. He ran toward the exit, just in time to see the gaijin stepping into a car. Frantically, he searched his pockets for a pen to write down the license-plate number.
* * * * *
The one thing Fitzduane knew about TokyoAirport was that only someone who wanted to take out a second mortgage took a cab from there into the city center. The experienced traveler took the limousine, which cost a fraction of the amount and was actually a small bus.
The bus was unnecessary. Yoshokawa-san, a broad welcoming smile on his face, met Fitzduane and Tanabu-san in the terminal and guided them into a waiting car. The skies were low, gray, and unfriendly-looking, and it was raining. He had been expecting cherry blossoms and sun. He thought to himself that to travel halfway around the world to get the same appalling weather as Ireland was ridiculous. Worse, it was hot and humid.
Yoshokawa caught his skyward look and laughed: "I'm sorry," he said, "it's the rainy season. We call it ‘plum rain.’"
"We call it ‘having a nice soft day’ in Ireland," said Fitzduane, "but the stuff is still wet. When does it end?"
"It has just begun," said Yoshokawa.
"Fitzduane-san," said Chifune, "I fear you have spent too much time with our files and not enough reading guidebooks. Did we explain about earthquakes?"
"No." said Fitzduane.
"Tokyo is in an earthquake zone," said Chifune, smiling faintly, "and small tremors are very common. In 1923, there was an earthquake here in which a hundred and forty thousand people lost their lives."
"When is the next big one due?" said Fitzduane.
"Soon enough," said Chifune, "but I would not worry. I think more immediate risks will come from other sources."
"Tanabu-san," said Fitzduane. "You are an unending source of consolation."
* * * * *
Detective Superintendent Adachi was feeling somewhat ground down by the many months of the Hodama investigation, so he was treating himself to a morning away from the squad room and a little serious thinking.
He was having a late breakfast, cleaning his gun, and generally mooching around his apartment in his nice, scruffy house kimono.