Thomas Hoover - The samurai strategy

"Matt, we don't know what this is for."

"True, true. So let's just play pretend. And to make it fun, let me show you something else." I rummaged through my briefcase some more, finally extracting another paper. "I copied a corresponding page from the file on current buys."

I laid it alongside the first.

She picked up the second sheet, checked it over. "I helped compile this list."

"Then maybe you'll see what I'm saying? Format's the same. The only difference is, some of the dogs have been dropped and replaced by some very well run corporations."

"You're right about that. All high-tech, heavy research investment."

Progress? The first scale to fall from her eyes?

"Then let's play another round of this 'pretend' game. As I understand it, you and yours put together this original list of companies for one main reason: lousy management. But all of a sudden the outfits in the worst shape on list number one have disappeared on list number two. Meaning, I would assume, that they're no longer part of the program, at least as it's laid out on this revised version Mori must have brought in from Tokyo."

"What are you trying to say?"

For chrissake, what did she think I was trying to say?

"Oh, nothing much, I suppose. Except that it looks to me like somebody's just knifed your program in the back. All of a sudden DNI's going to start buying outfits that already have good management, not to mention heavy research commitments. So what exactly is anybody supposed to be doing to help them along?" I paused. "Maybe a better question is, who removed those others, the ones now winging it on a hope and a prayer."

She laid down the two pages side by side and began to compare them in more detail, a finger here, a finger there. But strictly no comment.

Along about then Ben got up and checked out the sleet- covered garden, then lumbered back and plopped down beside us, clearly expecting a pat for diligence in the line of duty. She remarked that English sheepdogs always reminded her of a big flotaki rug. After that put-down she returned to the lists. I hoped the poor guy's sensitive ego wasn't mortally fractured.

Well, she announced finally, my so-called discovery didn't add up to much.

"Matt, I officially have no opinion about this. It could mean anything." She shrugged. "Maybe the new twist is to start with the companies that can benefit the most from coordination. Take on the easy job first where the payoff will be greatest. Save the tough ones for later."

"Oh, sure. Who knows? It could all be very innocent, right? I mean, for all we can tell, the moon might really be green cheese." I wondered what had gotten into her all of a sudden. It was plain as day what was happening. But instead of congratulating me on my sleuthing, she was turning obtuse.

"Tell me exactly how you got this sheet."

"Like I said, more or less by accident." I told her the story again. "I was about to chuck it, then I took a second to mull it over. That's when I got to wondering why the numbers seemed so inconsistent. Next thing I noticed was the new list of players. All of a sudden the heavens opened. A vision." I got up to freshen my brandy, then came back. She was still sitting there, maybe too exhausted to think straight. "But I take it you don't believe my little epiphany means anything?"

"Since I don't know what it means, I'm not going to engage in a lot of uninformed speculation."

Good Christ, I thought, what's happened to all her reputed brilliance?

"You know," she went on, "I don't think you should be taking any more documents out of the office. There's a reason for all the security."

"Hey, back off. I just have boundless curiosity." I still couldn't fathom her lack of interest… no, make that hostility. "Look, I don't claim to understand how birds fly, how fish swim, or how this whole damned picture fits together. However, my new, albeit uninformed, observation is that Noda and Company are not exactly giving us the fine print on their scenario. Exhibit A: this strange new list."

"I think some fresh air would be nice." She rose to her feet, located her shoes, and strolled over to look out at the garden. The sleet and snow was about a foot and a half deep. "Why don't we go into the back?"

"What?" I stumbled to my feet. "Do you have any idea…"

She looked at me a bit funny, then made some hand signals.

Huh?

Finally I realized she was telling me she didn't want to say anything more inside the house.

Talk about paranoid! Suddenly the reason for all her hemming and hawing over my little theft came clear. She actually thought we might be bugged! Get serious, lady.

Anyway, she gave me the cool-it sign, then calmly started putting on her coat. Astounded by the possible dimensions of human mistrust, I dug out a sweater from behind the couch and opened the door. She was still nursing that damned designer water.

Ben snapped to alertness and galloped to the door, whereupon he confronted the weather. His strategic decision, executed with lightning speed, was to switch into his patented "zone defense" surveillance mode against backyard trespassers, which required staying inside where it was warm. I gave him a pat, freshened his water bowl, and followed her out into the snow.

There was a brief lull in the weather. The sky glowed red from all the streetlights, at least what you could see of it through the surrounding brownstones and the leafless ailanthus tree at the back. I looked around as Ben gave the fence one last survey, then plopped down and settled his chin onto his paws with a grunt.

Tam, I suppose, had finally concluded I wasn't pulling some kind of loyalty check for Noda, so that was when she opened the real can of worms.

"How long was she making copies? I mean, you were standing right behind her."

"Mori? I don't know. Less than a minute." I examined her, a trifle puzzled. "Why?"

"How many pages?"

"Probably half a dozen or so."

She just stood there a moment, gazing up at the sky, then she went back inside, stepping around Ben, and returned with the sheet. "Did you notice this?" She pointed to the upper right-hand corner.

I took it and strained in the faint light from the back windows. "It says '129/147.'" I looked up. "You think that means…?"

"I think your episode suggests at least two things." She took back the page. "The first one is, this is part of a much larger document."

"With you so far. A hundred and forty-seven pages. And the second?"

"You said she only made half a dozen copies, then overlooked this?" She paused. "Don't you think Akira Mori can count?"

At that moment the snowy night grew silent as a tomb.

"What are you suggesting?" I finally blurted it out. "That she left this on purpose?"

"Maybe. But I don't have the slightest idea why."

"Christ, you have a very mistrusting mind." I slogged on through the snow for a few steps, then turned back. "I'm convinced it was accidental."

"All right, let's just say that's a possibility for now. But what we do know for sure is we'd better get our hands on the rest of this."

"Hey, don't look at me. I'm already in this scam deeper than I ever intended to be. I say we either play their way or cut and run. We start getting too nosy and we could end up on the wrong end of one of those Uzis."

"Matt, there's something else I noticed about the list. It's ominous."

"Care to elaborate?" I kicked at the snow.

"Well, not out here. I'm freezing." She pulled her coat a bit tighter. "Is there someplace inside where we can talk?"

"I've got an idea. But let's warm up first." I led the way back in. The fire had died a bit, so she settled on the floor next to the hearth, the smooth contours of her cheeks golden in the flickering light.

"Sure you won't have a brandy after all. To combat the chill?" The quartet Opus 44, No. 1, was enveloping us, both violins emerging out of the shadows.