* * * * *
Kamakura and Tokyo, Japan
June 7
Fitzduane spent Saturday sight-seeing in Kamakura with Yoshokawa — trailed at all times by two armed policemen.
He found the attention restricting, but was modestly cheered that the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department wanted their bait — as Chifune had so charmingly put it — alive.
Kamakura was a seaside town — a city in Irish terms, since it boasted a population approaching two hundred thousand — bordered on three sides by mountains and on the fourth by the sea. Land access was only through a series of passes. Its defensibility had made it the capital of Japan some seven centuries earlier. The bakufu — military government headed by the shogun — had been based there before moving to Edo, now Tokyo, at the beginning of the seventeenth century.
Fitzduane found Kamakura a delightful place. It was heavily wooded, and boasted no fewer than sixty-five Buddhist temples and nineteen Shinto shrines. Strolling through the pine trees, looking at artifacts and architecture that had been there for centuries, he felt he was getting some small flavor of old Japan. The sense of the pursuit of excellence and the integration of the physical with the spiritual was everywhere evident in the temples and shrines. He greatly enjoyed the Buddhas. He could not see one without being reminded of Boots as a chubby baby.
Talk of the history of Kamakura as a seat of government prompted Fitzduane to ask Yoshokawa a question that had been on his mind for some time.
"Yoshokawa-san," he said, "I have not asked this directly before because I have been searching for the right moment, but do you have a direct interest in this Namaka matter? I know you feel compelled to help me because I was fortunate enough to be able to assist your son, but I sense there is something else. You seem more than just a helpful friend."
They were looking at the Great Buddha, a vast hollow bronze construction that towered over the temple and dwarfed human visitors. Erected the best part of a millennium earlier, it suggested considerable engineering talent. The current Japanese success in world markets had been many centuries in preparation, Fitzduane reflected.
Yoshokawa was silent for such a long time that Fitzduane was momentarily concerned that his question had caused offense. He knew that directness was not generally appreciated in Japan. However, he had gauged his moment carefully and the issues were serious. Time was running out. He needed answers quickly. He thought of the terrible moment when the back of Boots's head had appeared to open up in a crimson gash, and he thought of Christian de Guevain slaughtered like an animal. He felt a deep sadness and a cold anger. He had an obligation to destroy these people who threatened his life and the lives of those he cared about. It was a responsibility, a giri, as the Japanese might say, to do what had to be done.
It was then the Yoshokawa told him about the Gamma Society, about the group who were dedicated to reforming Japanese society ad driving out corruption, and some of the elements in the puzzle began to slip into place.
"Is Enoke-san, our friend the Deputy Superintendent-General, a member?" asked Fitzduane.
Yoshokawa nodded.
"And so who suggested I come to Japan?" said Fitzduane.
Yoshokawa looked embarrassed. Fitzduane smiled. "Yoshokawa-san," he said, "from where I stand now, you did the right thing. OF course, if I am killed, I'll change my mind."
Yoshokawa smiled. "I hope so," he said. "It was a decision not made lightly, but I know what you did before, and in some matters we need help. We cannot always do things the Japanese way. We must join the world."
"Internationalization," said Fitzduane.
Yoshokawa laughs. "Fitzduane-san," he said. "You are learning.
14
Tokyo, Japan
June 8
Fitzduane was glad that his first real contact with Japan had been at Kamakura.
As Yoshokawa's car drove into the vast sprawl of Tokyo itself, he became somewhat depressed at the seemingly endless vista of unlovely concrete-and-steel boxes, overhead cables snaking everywhere, and incessant neon. Most of the buildings gave the impression of having been roughed out on the back of an envelope and built in a hurry. Functionality alone seemed to have been the guideline, and frequently not even that. Many of the buildings were just plain shoddy.
Except for occasional touches — a roof upturned at its corners, the rich blue of a tile, a roadside shrine — there was almost no trace of the aesthetically satisfying blend of form and function which had been so evident in the temples of Kamakura. The visual sense of the Japanese seemed to have atrophied over the centuries, or perhaps had been one of the casualties of the war. However, it was not entirely dead, Fitzduane mused. The slick design of so much of Japanese electronic gadgetry was proof of that. Personally, Fitzduane thought it was a poor exchange.
Yoshokawa read his expression. "Fitzduane-san," he said, "don't read too much into what you see. The ugliness of so much of the buildings is superficial. Tokyo's character comes from its people and their energy. As to buildings, remember that the city was practically destroyed in the 1923 earthquake and no sooner rebuilt than it was virtually flattened by American bombers in the war. And we are due another earthquake! In this context, perhaps buildings are not so important." He smiled.
Fitzduane laughed out loud. "And for this kind of security, I hear you have the highest land and property prices in the world."
"This is true," said Yoshokawa. "Land is sacred to the Japanese because we are brought up to think we have so little of it. Also, property is used as security for so many financial transactions. Accordingly, our land prices have become insane. Based upon current paper value, merely by selling off Tokyo you could theoretically buy all of America. Just by selling the grounds of the ImperialPalace in the center of Tokyo, you could buy Canada!"
"The Namakas made much of their money through property, I gather," said Fitzduane.
"What was a worthless bomb site after the war was worth many millions or even billions of yen a generation later," replied Yoshokawa. "The Namakas specialized in persuading people to sell. An unwilling owner might find his child missing for a couple of days or have a car accident or simply vanish. It was all done with great subtlety. On several major projects, their opposition was conveniently attacked by right-wing terrorists — Yaibo — and there was no direct link at all. But conveniently, the Namakas benefitted."
"And Hodama?" said Fitzduane.
"Identified projects, made connections, and above all, provided political protection," said Yoshokawa, "but always secretly."
As they drove through what Yoshokawa assured him was metropolitan Tokyo, Fitzduane saw frequent patches of what looked like agricultural land. Some were in rice paddies. Others were planted with fruit or vegetables. "Given the scarcity of land for building," he said, "what are farms doing in the center of the city?"