Fitzduane took a flier. He was talking to an enthusiast, and enthusiasts were notoriously indiscreet. Also, who was he going to have time to tell? He decided he had better throw in some positive sounds. Kei clearly expected an appreciative audience.
"That is singularly impressive, Namaka-san," he said. "And part of Project Tsunami?"
"Oh, yes," said Kei. "You have just seen one pressure chamber made. There are two hundred required for one phase of the process alone. So far, we have shipped one complete chamber to our customer. That will be tested, and then Godzilla will be put seriously to work. As you have seen, a pressure-chamber section can be forged from ingot to tube in under ten minutes. Allowing for finishing, welding on flanges, polishing, and so on — the really time-consuming elements — we shall still be able to complete the shipment in one year."
Fitzduane felt very depressed at what he was hearing. So this was the world that Boots was entering. What he was seeing was illegal, but nonetheless, here was Japan, the one country that had demilitarized and dedicated itself to peace, involved in the wretched business of nuclear weapons as well. It was a grim note on which to die. An inner rage began to burn.
Kei shouted an order, and Fitzduane was roughly pulled away and propelled between two yakuza across the vast floor and back up the steps to the dojo. As he was pushed through the soundproof double doors, he could hear the screeching of Godzilla once again as another pressure-chamber length emerged.
Inside the dojo, the silence could almost be felt.
Fitzduane was pushed to his knees. Ahead of him, a magnificent if barbaric figure in his medieval samurai armor was Kei Namaka. Behind him and slightly to one side stood Goto, similarly attired. On either side of Fitzduane were his yakuza guards. Two more yakuza stood against the wall. All six were armed with swords. The yakuza also had submachine guns.
"It is time, gaijin," said Kei Namaka, "for you to die." He spoke rapidly, in Japanese, and Fitzduane felt his handcuffs and leg restraints being removed. He rose to his feet, rubbing his wrists to restore circulation.
"The only issue here, Fitzduane-san," said Kei, "concerns the manner of your death."
Fitzduane smiled. "I would prefer, Namaka-san, if you don't mind, to debate the timing."
* * * * *
There were four passengers in the Koancho helicopter besides the pilot, and one of them was Sergeant Oga, who was not at all sure what he was getting into.
The only thing he was certain of was that anything involving the gaijin Fitzduane-san, even after he was dead, was sure to be trouble. He had much the same feeling about Tanabu-san as he sat across from her. Even had he not harbored a deep suspicion about the games the security service got into, the Howa Type 89 5.56mm assault rifle she held resting on her knees would have given him serious cause for concern.
The folding-stock weapon was fitted with laser sight, sound suppressor, under-barrel 40mm grenade launcher, and hundred-round C-Mag. The U.S.-made C-Mag was an extremely compact, spring-loaded, plastic double-drum that fed rounds from each drum alternatively and provided over three times the capacity of a conventional magazine.
The combination of elements added up to the most vicious personal weapon he had yet encountered, and it did not look like the kind of thing you would carry on a routine investigation.
He leaned across the tiny cabin and spoke to Tanabu-san. The intercom would have been an easier way of overcoming the engine noise, but the fewer people who heard their discussion the better.
"Shouldn't we do this through channels, Tanabu-san?" he said. "This is really a job for a large force of kidotai. My men are not really trained for this sort of thing."
Chifune bent forward to meet him halfway. Supremely feminine as she was, and dressed in a tan linen suit with skirt ending well above the knee-line, she should, thought Oga, have appeared slightly ridiculous with all this firepower; but that was not the case. She handled her weapons system as if nothing were more natural.
He could smell her perfume as she moved close. Her complexion was flawless, her deep-brown eyes, flecked with gold, compelling. She was going to be a hard woman to resist. In fact, she had already proved that she was a hard woman to resist, or he would not be in this helicopter.
"Oga-san," Chifune said, "time is critical, and we do not have the evidence to get a large raid approved without hacking through the bureaucracy. We're following a suspicion based upon my knowledge of how the Namakas work and the one slim fact that Fitzduane-san's beeper continued to function for five minutes after the explosion. Further, where we are going is a defense installation. To get approval to raid that would mean going right to the top, which would take forever and blow security. The Namakas, you must know, have friends in the highest places. At a certain level in the power structure, it is hard to know where loyalties lie. That is the reality of money politics in Japan today. There are those who will be very happy to see Fitzduane-san dead and the status quo preserved."
Oga gulped. The woman was making it worse. If this thing went wrong, he was risking not just his life but his career. He could imagine what his wife, a thoroughly practical woman, would say. Still, she was not here, and Tanabu-san very much was.
"As to your competence for this kind of operation, Sergeant-san," said Chifune, "I know you are very highly thought of and that you were in the paratroops, just like Adachi-san, before you joined the police."
Oga nodded.
"And as to your men," continued Chifune, "I have the greatest confidence in the Tokyo MPD and I have no doubt they will do their duty with distinction."
Oga sighed. He had no change against this woman. Without being aware of the transition, he mentally switched from his police role to his previous airborne training. They were going in and they would do what had to be done, and that was that. The pieces could be picked up afterward.
He turned to his two detectives. He had had to leave his other men behind because of space limitations in the helicopter, but the men he had kept, Detectives Renako and Sakado, were rock-solid.
"Check your weapons, lads," he said. "Where we're going may be hot."
The sprawling industrial mass that was the Namaka Steel empire showed up on the skyline, and Chifune spoke an instruction to the pilot. Seconds later, the helicopter was speeding along at only a few feet above wave-top height, and Sergeant Oga was totally back into airborne mode and wondering why he had ever left. He loved this kind of shit.
"AIRBORNE!" he shouted.
"AIRBORNE!" repeated his men. Neither had seen military service, but if it was appropriate for the redoubtable Sergeant Oga, it was appropriate for them. Group solidarity was all important. And somehow it sounded just right.
Chifune smiled and made a punching gesture with her right hand. "All the way," she said.
* * * * *
"Fitzduane-san," said Kei, "I must tell you I regret you have to die."
"You are a brave man and an honorable man — but you must understand that I have no choice. We have an obligation to kill you. It is a matter of giri. And now it is also a matter of self-preservation. You know too much."