Victor O'Reilly - Rules of The Hunt

"SunshineCity, of which the NamakaTower is the centerpiece, is a multifunction complex that is a center for business and commerce," translated Chifune, her face a blank. "The Higashi Ikeburo ramp of the Metropolitan Expressway connects directly to the basement parking area of the complex, and there is parking there for 1,800 cars. SunshineCity includes, in addition to the NamakaTower, a hotel, a shopping mall, a branch of the Mitsukoshi department store, many offices, a convention center, and the world's highest aquarium."

Fitzduane blinked and tried hard to keep a straight face. The Japanese had built an aquarium on the site where their wartime leaders had been executed.

SunshineCity had been Sugamo Prison. This was making pragmatism into a high art. Well, maybe it was better to forget the past. The Irish never forgot the past and look what trouble the North was in. Still, an aquarium! He suppressed a desire to rush away and reread Alice in Wonderland.

"How high is the world's highest aquarium?" asked Fitzduane politely.

"It's on the tenth floor," translated Chifune, "forty meters above ground level. It has 20,000 fish covering 620 different species, and fresh seawater from HachichoIsland is supplied to them constantly so that their environment is entirely natural." Her mouth was beginning to twitch.

"If I was a fish," said Fitzduane, "I couldn't imagine anything less natural than being stuck in a tank ten floors up with 19,999 neighbors. It sounds more like the South Bronx, which certainly is not entirely natural. Still, to be fair, I am not a fish."

Since Sunshine City looked solidly rooted in northern Tokyo and the sea did not seem to be immediately available, he was dying to ask by what ingenious method seawater was constantly supplied from Hachicho Island, wherever that was, but then the elevator doors opened and their guide burst into action again. She had a cheerleader's energy and enthusiasm packed into her neat little body. Fitzduane half expected pom-poms to appear any second, but her body language was repressed and demure.

The doors closed and the elevator took off like a rocket. Fitzduane felt he had left his stomach somewhere about the level of the fish, and there were still fifty more floors to go.

"The NamakaTower, at 240 meters above ground level, is the tallest occupied building in Japan," translated Chifune, "and on a clear day you can see a hundred kilometers in any direction, and even Mount Fuji. You may also care to know that you are standing in the world's fastest elevator, which will make the entire journey in only thirty-five seconds.

Fitzduane's stomach had reappeared and was starting to go in the other direction as they decelerated. If the Namakas went through this rocket trip twice a day, it was clear that he was up against some fairly tough people.

"Doesn't this country have earthquakes?" said Fitzduane. "Is it really a good idea to be this high up when holes open up in the ground?"

There was no time for an answer. The elevator came to a halt and the doors opened. Facing him were two people who had casually arranged to have him killed, who had threatened the very core of his family.

He smiled and stepped forward, the gift he had brought with him in his left hand. It was a carefully packaged, handmade reproduction of a traditional Irish weapon, the Galloglass Axe, and with its blade and handle it was nearly the height of an average Western man. It towered over the smaller Japanese man, whom Fitzduane took to be the younger brother, Fumio. Set against the tall, broad-shouldered Kei Namaka, it looked to be a fair match.

Tokyo, Japan

June 19

Fumio Namaka had felt the chill fingers of fear caress his very soul the first time he saw Fitzduane, and ten minutes into the meeting in the luxuriously appointed conference room on the sixtieth floor of the NamakaTower, the grim feeling was still with him.

The gaijin had first come into their lives as a matter of obligation. At that time he had no substance, no reality. He was a name on a piece of paper, a photograph in a file.

Three failed assassination attempts later, and sitting across the table at the very heart of the Namaka empire, the gaijin was another matter entirely. This was a truly impressive man, confident and at ease with himself. He appeared relaxed and to be enjoying the discussion, and it was this very ease of manner, after he had been through so much, that convinced Fumio that his brother was right. Fitzduane was a fundamental threat and deserved to be taken most seriously, for it they failed to destroy him quickly, he would be their nemesis.

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.