Victor O'Reilly - Rules of The Hunt

"I think the Namakas are an evil pair who should be put out of business," said Adachi," and were certainly behind the attempts on your life and are involved with terrorism as a means to commercial gain. As to the Hodama business, here I do not feel they are guilty. Instead I believe that the Hodama killings are part of a power play, and that part of that scenario is the destruction of the Namakas. It's ironic. My investigation of the Hodama affair puts me, in a way, on the wrong side."

Fitzduane thought about what Adachi was saying. "The thought strikes me, Adachi- san," said Fitzduane, "that unless we are both careful, we could end up as the filling in this particular political sandwich. Perhaps a little pooling of resources might be an idea."

Adachi thought of the suspected leak in Keishicho – or was it the prosecutor's office? – and the blunt fact that he no longer knew whom to trust except, irony of ironies, for the Irishman. He nodded.

"Let's go for a stroll," he said. "There is a place we can talk in private and someone I would like you to meet again, a Sergeant Akamatsu."

"The veteran in the police box," said Fitzduane. "The man with the all-knowing eyes. He wasn't too happy I messed up his pavement, but lead on."

As Fitzduane was about to leave the hotel, he took a call from Yoshokawa. The Namakas regretted the delay, but one of the brothers had been away and both would like to meet Fitzduane- san. An appointment had been arranged for that afternoon. A car would arrive after lunch to take Fitzduane- san to the NamakaTower.

"So they are sniffing the bait, Yoshokawa- san," said Fitzduane.

"Be careful all they do is sniff," said Yoshokawa. "These are very dangerous people."

"I'll hang garlic around my neck," said Fitzduane, "and maybe take a few other precautions. But, what the hell, it should be interesting."

Fitzduane returned from his lengthy discussion with Adachi and Sergeant Akamatsu just before lunch and opted to eat in his room.

It made his Tokyo MPD minders happier when he was not sitting exposed in a public place, and he wanted to do some thinking. In a couple of hours' time, he was going to meet and exchange pleasantries with two people, the Namaka brothers, who he had every reason to believe had tried repeatedly to kill him.

The anticipation gave him a strange feeling. Fear and anger were components, but there were also elements of uncertainty. The initiative was still in his enemies' hands, and although he had many reasons to believe that the Namakas were behind the assassination attempts, he still had no legal proof. They would have to make the fist move or he could do nothing; or he could cross a line he preferred not to cross.

He could not kill on mere suspicion. There had to be some core values to live by, even in this confusing and dangerous world. Kilmara had chastised him for a lack of ruthlessness on occasions in the past, but the simple fact that he could not change. He had been brought up to believe in some standards, and there it was. Even to protect his own life and that of his child, he could not exercise lethal force unprovoked.

He ordered a sandwich and a glass of white wine and ran a bath. The food arrived within minutes, but was actually delivered by a smiling Sergeant Oga. He was becoming quite good friends with the sergeant, and the minders were not overly keen on an assassin disguised as room service. As they learned Fitzduane's ways, they were getting very good at their job. Surveillance was comprehensive but unobtrusive. Nonetheless, it was a bloody nuisance. Fitzduane liked wandering around strange cities on his own, and being part of an armed convoy definitely took some of the spontaneity out of the whole business.

You could not really act the relaxed tourist when surrounded by a bunch of submachine-gun-toting cops, even if they did keep their weapons in shoulder bags. The submachine guns had been added after the Yasukini-dori business. If the yakuza wanted to play hardball, the Tokyo cops were not going to fuck around, and they were quick students.

Insofar as any gaijin ever could, Fitzduane reflected, he was now beginning to get a handle on how the various players such as Hodama, the Namakas, Yoshokawa, and the others fitted in. A fresh element in the Namaka equations was their possible involvement in supplying embargoed equipment to North Korea. Kilmara had explained briefly in an encrypted phone call to Fitzduane in the relatively secure environs of the Irish Embassy, but he had been rushed and the communication had been short on detail.

All Fitzduane had understood was that intelligence reports indicated that the Namakas and some of their personnel from Namaka Special Steels were having secret negotiations with the North Korean nuclear people, and it might well behoove Fitzduane to watch his ass, because the stakes could be even higher than originally thought. On the other hand, it could prove helpful if he kept his eyes open. No one knew exactly what was going on. The intelligence reports were a mixture of scant fact and liberal extrapolation. Disturbingly, the final conclusion of the analysis was that all of this could involve the production by the North Koreans of nuclear weapons.

Kilmara had finished the conversation by pointing out that Fitzduane's Japanese hosts might not be too enthusiastic about the Namakas' possible arms-trading coming to light.

"My guess," Kilmara had said, "is that the local fuzz-"

"Adachi – the Tokyo MPD," Fitzduane had interrupted.

"-won't know about the nuclear thing, but that their security people will want to keep it very quiet. The Japanese depend on international trade and the U.S. is their largest single customer, so the last thing they will want is for them to be found peddling nuclear-weapons manufacturing plants to Uncle Sam's enemies. We're talking serious vested interests here, so watch it."

"While watching my ass, what am I supposed to be looking for?" said Fitzduane. "They could show me a complete hydrogen-bomb plant and tell me it made chocolate bars and I would be none the wiser. A nuclear expert I am not."

"Look, I'm just passing on the ruminations of the spooks," said Kilmara. "Just keep your eyes open and remember Japan is not that big a place – and happy hunting."

The land mass of Japan, Fitzduane recalled, was actually just under a hundred and forty-six thousand square miles, or just over half the size of Texas. Sometimes Kilmara's comments could be unhelpful.

He ate his sandwich, then soaked in his bath and sipped his wine. The thought occurred to him that although Adachi, and indeed the DSG, might not be in the need-to-know loop, Koancho, the security service, almost certainly was. Which explained Chifune's presence and raised strong questions about her own personal agenda. The gaijin had been brought over to help break the impasse in the Hodama investigation, but supposing Fitzduane- san found out something which could embarrass Japanese interests?

He hopped out of the bath and toweled vigorously while singing an old Irish Army marching song, then dressed for the occasion. Lightweight dark-blue suit, pale-blue shirt, regimental tie, silk socks, highly polished loafers. He examined himself in the mirror and decided he looked the very model of a sarariman. All he was missing was the corporate pin.

He checked his throwing knives and the compact Calico automatic, and was just holstering the latter when his phone rang.

The limousine of the Namaka Corporation had arrived. He picked up the gift he had brought for the Namaka brothers and left. His interpreter, Chifune, was waiting for him in the lobby. She bowed, as any well-mannered interpreter would do, but when she rose he saw once again that enigmatic smile.

He was about to wave her through the door ahead of him, then remembered how the Japanese did such things. He grinned at Chifune, then walked out ahead and was ushered first into the waiting black limousine. The uniformed chauffeur wore white gloves and the seats had white head protectors like those in an airline. The Namaka corporate crest was discreetly painted on the limousine doors.