Looking across at Fitzduane, Fumio felt fear. Of course, there was always the chance that the gaijin actually knew nothing and would accept the story about Kitano being responsible for everything, but Fumio trusted his instincts. The gaijin was a bringer of death.
Kei Namaka, at his very best in the role of concerned, socially responsible captain of industry, was just expressing his shock at discovering the scheming of the Namaka security chief.
"It seems, Fitzduane-san," he said, "that we have all been victims of a cunning man who grossly abused his position. My brother and I were appalled to discover what our supposedly trusted employee was up to. Kitano-san has brought the respected name of Namaka Industries into disrepute, and my brother and I are extremely embarrassed by this. We apologize without reservation for what this renegade has done. You must let us make compensation, and of course we will do anything we can to make your trip here more interesting an enjoyable."
Fitzduane was struck by the contrast between the two brothers. Kei Namaka was truly a magnificent physical specimen, tall, broad-shouldered, and with the kind of confidence-inspiring good looks that would make him a natural for a business-magazine front cover. In contrast, Fumio, with his thin, disfigured body, was a decidedly puny-looking specimen unless you looked at him closely. There was a deep intelligence in those eyes. The physically unimpressive Fumio Namaka was, in Fitzduane's opinion, the one to watch.
"Namaka-san," said Fitzduane. "Your words are most gracious and are deeply appreciated, but you employ tens of thousands of people and cannot possibly be expected to be responsible for every one. All of us have suffered. I have had my life threatened, and you, I understand, have lost a great deal of money to this man. Well, let us think of ourselves as partners in our misfortune and hopefully partners in a future in happier affairs, and move on to more pleasant matters." He smiled.
Chifune, effectively invisible since she was a woman and her presence, strictly speaking, unnecessary — both Namakas spoke excellent English — was amused at Fitzduane's performance. Knowing what she did, she found the confrontation bizarre, but the Irishman was carrying off his role with aplomb. He was being quite charming, and she could see Kei Namaka responding.
Kei evidently saw himself as a leader and a man's man, and reacted well to having this self-image appreciated. In Chifune's opinion, he was a case of heart — or, more probably, impulse — over head. As for the sinister younger brother, he said almost nothing, but just sat there noting everything. He was a cold fish.
"You're most kind, Fitzduane-san," said Kei Namaka, "and you are right. Perhaps now it would be appropriate if we unwrapped our gifts. Thanks to Yoshokawa-san, I know we share an interest in medieval weaponry, so I hope you will enjoy the modest token we have selected for you."
Fitzduane unwrapped the long, rectangular package. Every aspect of the packaging was superb, both in quality and in execution, and yet again he could not but admire the Japanese attention to detail. With the paper removed, he found himself looking at a long, narrow, hand-made inlaid cedarwood box about four feet long and eight inches wide, itself a minor masterpiece of craftsmanship, but obviously the precursor to something more special.
He was enjoying this. Even under these dangerous circumstances, it was fun to receive a present, especially something that was obviously special. Of course, it could be lethal, but that was unlikely, he thought. The meeting had been arranged by Yoshokawa and was a public affair. No, whatever the Namakas had in mind, he was safe for the moment. He looked across at the Namakas and smiled in anticipation. Kei Namaka beamed back at him. The man was enjoying this as much as he was. Criminal though he might be, there was something rather likable about Kei. Fumio just sat there, stone-faced. It was hard to warm to Fumio.
"What superb workmanship!" he said, indicating the cedarwood box. "I cannot imagine what must be inside." He gently caressed the rich patina of the wood, taking his time. He could feel Kei's impatience. The man had childlike enthusiasm.
"You must open the box, Fitzduane-san," Kei said. "Press the chrysanthemum inlay in the middle and slide it to the left and it will open."
Fitzduane did as instructed. The chrysanthemum, he knew, was associated with the Japanese royal family, and he began to realize that what he had been given was very special indeed. He opened the box.
A magnificent Spanish cup-hilt rapier lay there, cushioned in padded crimson silk. The hilt was inlaid with scenes of hunting and warfare. The weapon was an antique, and extremely valuable. He removed it from the presentation box and it settled in his hand as if custom-made for him.
"Late seventeenth-century Spanish," he said. "The long, straight quillons and curved knuckle bow are typical of the designs of that time — but what a superb specimen. What perfect weight and balance, and what workmanship!"
Kei Namaka looked genuinely delighted at Fitzduane's obvious surprise and pleasure. "Fitzduane-san," he said, "we heard from Yoshokawa-san that you are a swordsman of some renown and a knowledgeable collector, so this small token seemed appropriate. Your weapon of choice is, I believe, the epee, the sporting evolution of the rapier, and it was that fact that motivated this particular selection."
Fitzduane smiled his appreciation. "I do fence a little, that is true, but I'm not sure I am in the same league as this fine weapon. Also, the swords I use have blunted points. Killing your opponent in this day and age is frowned upon."
Kei laughed heartily at this observation and Chifune tittered politely as she was expected to, her hand in front of her mouth. She found the convention ridiculous, but it was not considered polite for a well-brought-up young Japanese woman to give a full belly laugh or to laugh with her mouth uncovered. Kei was acting, Chifune thought, as if he were some medieval daimyo or clan lord in a good mood, posturing in front of his samurai.
Just as quickly, she recalled, the mood of such a man could swing the other way to violence. Of course, the brutal reality was that he was indeed the modern version of a powerful daimyo, only his holdings spanned the continents. The wealth of a modern keiretsu would make a medieval daimyo pale. Kei was not merely acting his role. He was strong and influential. This was the frightening truth.
"Namaka-san," said Fitzduane. "I am deeply honored by your gift. Now perhaps you would do me the honor of opening the simple token I have brought for you. It will not compare with your generosity, but you may find it interesting."
If Kei had been excited while watching Fitzduane open his present, then this time he was practically panting, although to a less well-trained eye than Chifune's, his superficial physical demeanor did not betray him. This was Japan, where control was important and excess was frowned upon. Nonetheless, his fingers worked a little too hard at the outer wrapping and his eyes gleamed just a little too brightly. The man acted as if it was Christmas. It was curious, this mixture of childlike vulnerability and brutality.