Howard Fast - The Case of the Russian Diplomat

Masuto drove home to Culver City. He was tired. His mind had stopped functioning. Rage had wiped out any sense of achievement, and he felt lifeless.

He came into the house, and his son and daughter ran to greet him. They were in their pajamas, ready for bed, and Ana appeared to be none the worse for her experience. She had evidently informed Uraga of all the details of her kidnapping, and they both chattered away, excitedly. Masuto embraced them mechanically and listened without hearing. He was also very conscious of the fact that Kati had not come to greet him as he entered. Usually she was so anxious about his coming home that she would look for him through the window or listen for the sound of his car.

“Where is your mother?” he asked Uraga.

“In the kitchen.”

“Go and play,” he said to them. “I must talk to her.”

He went into the kitchen. Kati stood at the sink, her back to him, cleaning shrimp and vegetables for tempura. She did not turn as he entered, and after a moment he went to her and kissed the bare spot on her shoulder.

“That will not help,” she said coldly, without turning around.

“What have I done?”

“It’s not what you have done. It’s what you haven’t done. Do you know what I went through today?”

He took her shoulders and turned her around to face him. “Don’t you think I went thorugh the same thing?”

“Did you? Did you have to sit here and wait? And wait? Do you know what that is? Days go by and I don’t see you and the children don’t see you. Do you know what that is? I’m not Japanese. I’m Nisei, as you are, but you treat me the way the Japanese men treat their wives.”

“I don’t. That’s not fair.”

“It is true, and you know it.”

He shook his head helplessly. “I don’t know what to say. I’m going to take a bath.”

He was lying in the hot tub, the water as hot as his skin could bear, half asleep, relaxed for the first time in hours, when the door opened and Kati entered, carrying two huge fluffly white towels. She sat down beside the tub, the towels in her lap.

“Do you know, you are right,” he said to her.

“I know I am.”

“I saw you preparing tempura, so you can’t be too angry at me.”

“Ah, so. It’s not because I am not angry, it’s because I decided what to do.”

“And what is that?”

“It concerns tomorrow, Saturday. Tomorrow, I will prepare a picnic lunch, and we will take the children and our bathing suits and we will drive up to Malibu and have a picnic on the beach, and the children will play all day in the sand and the water, and you and I will have an opportunity to resume our acquaintance.”

“That would be wonderful.” Masuto sighed. “But I have to go into the office and prepare my report.”

“No,” Kati said calmly. “You will call Captain Wainwright and tell him you cannot come in tomorrow. You can even lie to him, if you wish, and tell him that you are sick. You never use any of your sick time.”

“I don’t think Wainwright would appreciate that.”

“But I would. So when you are out of the tub, you will call Captain Wainwright.”

Masuto thought about it. “It’s too sudden to get sick. I would have to tell him the truth.”

“Then you will tell him the truth. Then you can meditate if you wish, and then we will have your supper. I also have sushi.”

“Why did you prepare my favorite food if you were so angry at me?” Masuto wondered.

“What has one thing got to do with the other?”

“Yes. I see. You are a remarkable woman, Kati.”

After he had dried himself and put on his saffron-colored robe, he called the station and spoke to Wainwright.

“I just don’t believe you,” Wainwright said. “After the way you loused things up with the whole goddamn federal government?”

“It’s either that or get a divorce.”

“You give me one pain in the ass, Masao.”

“Do I get the day off?”

“Take it, take it. It’ll be a relief not to see you around for a whole weekend.”

He put down the phone and turned to Kati, who stood there smiling.

“You see,” she said, “it was very simple, wasn’t it?”

He shook his head hopelessly.

“The children are in bed. Shall we eat?”

He nodded.

Later, heaping tempura onto his plate, she asked innocently, “What happened to the dancer?”

“She’s in jail.”

Kati smiled again. “Tomorrow will be a nice day,” she said. “A married man should enjoy his wife and children.”