Victor O'Reilly - Rules of The Hunt

Their friendship had nearly come to an abrupt end during the Hangman's attack on the castle. It had been a grim business which had affected all the survivors, but also created a special bond between them. When de Guevain had heard from Kilmara about the attack on Fitzduane, he had come immediately. He was confident that his bank, wife, and mistress would prosper in his absence. They were all mature elements in his well-ordered social structure. He was equally confident, with good reason, that they would welcome him back with open arms. Christian de Guevain had that kind of charisma.

"And how goes it for you, Hugo?" continued de Guevain. "I'm on red." The slight drop in voice quality and change to a more impersonal, manufactured sound confirmed the switch to encryption.

"These people are not going to go away," said Fitzduane grimly, "and I'm not going to sit around waiting for their next play."

"Japan?" said de Guevain. "You've decided."

"Japan," confirmed Fitzduane. "The interrogation of Sasada has confirmed that the Namakas are directly involved. Sasada was briefed by the Namaka security chief, who is a member of the Namaka inner sanctum, and the word is that Kitano does nothing that does not come from the Namakas themselves."

"Is there any chance of getting the Namakas through the courts?" asked de Guevain, without any real hope of getting an affirmative response. "Using Sasada as a witness?"

"Not a snowball's chance in hell," said Fitzduane. "Kitano is the cutout, and there is the slight problem that Sasada did not come out of interrogation too well. Kilmara broke him, but there was a price."

" Merde," said de Guevain, but with understanding. As a young man, he had served his time as a parachute lieutenant in Algeria, fighting in a very dirty war, and there were some situations where the Geneva conventions did not apply. Few people liked it, but in counterterrorism, it was sometimes a matter of weighing unpalatable alternatives.

"Hugo," he went on, "if you go to Japan you are going to need friends. A foreigner alone won't get very far. The Japanese…"

"…are very Japanese, and different from us Western types," completed Fitzduane dryly. "Yeah, I've heard that. It's even rumored they have their own language and eat with wooden skewers." de Guevain laughed. "It is clear that you are recovering, Hugo. But you know what I mean, and in Japan, friends in high places are particularly important. If you are going to go up against people as powerful as the Namakas, you need – must have – a player of equal or greater influence. Believe me, I know. We bank there."

"Point accepted," said Fitzduane. "Kilmara said much the same thing. He can make connections on the security side – the man has pipelines everywhere – but he says that's not enough. I'm going to need some extra weight over there." He paused before continuing. "Someone we are certain is not allied in any way to the Namakas." de Guevain could see the problem. Japan was a pyramid. Its base was broad, but at the top of an extremely hierarchical society a small number of people and organizations constituted the main movers and shakers. And many of this ruling group were cross-connected. Some of the alliances were known, but many were not. Japan could not be considered an open society.

"Yoshokawa," said de Guevain. "He's the obvious choice."

"He's my only choice," said Fitzduane grimly. "I have a few other connections in Japan, but they are all expatriates. Yoshokawa- san is my only option, but whether he is connected to the Namakas or not, I don't know."

"I see the problem, Hugo," said de Guevain. "I'm going back to Paris in a couple of days, so I'll put out a few feelers. But my guess is that Yoshokawa is your man. He owes you. You saved his son's life."

"Yoshokawa would not betray me," said Fitzduane, with some force, "but there is the matter of conflicting loyalties. If he's already in bed with the Namakas, he's going to sit on the sidelines, which may be all very honorable but will be no use to me." de Guevain laughed. "I'll check out a few sets of entrails," he said, "and talk to a few friends, but my guess is that Yoshokawa is your man."

The conversation came to an end, and Fitzduane replaced the phone handset and watched the red encryption light wink out.

He lay back against the pillows of his raised bed, closed his eyes, and thought of his baby son and his home and the comfort of good friends like Kilmara and de Guevain and the Bear. Life, one way and another, was a hard and random business, but all in all he considered he was a lucky man. Being shot, of course, was not so lucky, but overall he liked to believe things balanced out. de Guevain had called from the Great Hall of Fitzduane's castle, and as he thought about his home and felt more than a few pangs of homesickness mixed with impatience to get out of the damned hospital, he recalled how he had met Yoshokawa- san.

The Japanese industrialist had made quite an entrance.

The core of Fitzduane's castle was a rectangular stone tower known as the Keep, built by the first Sir Hugo Fitzduane in the thirteenth century. Subsequently, among other improvements, the Keep had been extended by building out to one side where the site overlooked the sea.

Unfortunately, the entire extension, known as the Great House, had been gutted by fire during the Hangman's siege. At first Fitzduane had thought of restoring it very much as it had been originally. He had grown up in Duncleeve, and its physical fabric and traditions were important to him.

He was attached to age-blackened wooden beams, oak paneling, tapestries, family portraits, crossed weapons, and mounted animal trophies with glass eyes and mange, but he was blessed with an open mind. As his ideas developed, he decided to preserve the traditional look of the exterior of the Great House so that it harmonized with the Keep, the curtain wall and its outhouses, and the gatehouse, but inside to make the rooms light and airy and uncluttered.

The general tendency of his social class to live in dusty, wood-wormed cocoons of architectural tradition and dry rot was not necessarily to their advantage, he thought. His peers tended to ossify in harmony with their museumlike surroundings.

Above all, he wanted to open the Great Hall – the magnificent open space on the top floor and the center of social activity over the centuries – to overlook the sea. It was a vista Fitzduane found endlessly fascinating, given the unusual light in the West of Ireland, but it lost quite a lot of appeal when your main visual access was confined to arrow slits designed for five foot high Norman crossbowmen – and you were six foot two. But he was far from sure how to implement this vision.

He was sitting on the chilly bronze of a cannon in the courtyard pondering this dilemma, when Yoshokawa arrived. Yoshokawa- san was the chairman of Yoshokawa Electrical, the Japanese electronics and consumer-goods conglomerate founded by his grandfather.

Hideo Yoshokawa's son, Aki, had been one of those saved by Fitzduane in the Hangman episode, and though the father had already expressed his thanks, he now had arrived in person to pay his respects and to tour the battlefield.

Four weeks later, Yoshokawa- san 's personal architect and a supporting team arrived to make a site assessment. Two months after that, Yoshokawa- san himself arrived with a scale model.

Ten months later, the specially-flown-in team of Japanese craftsmen had completed the work, gotten seriously drunk on Guinness and Irish whiskey at a special dinner in the new Great Hall, and had vanished – and Fitzduane was left to gaze with considerable pleasure and not a little awe at the result.

He would wait until Christian de Guevain reported back, but his instincts said that his friend was right.

Yoshokawa- san could be trusted.