Thomas Hoover - The samurai strategy

"Could be you're just deceived by my sensitive nature." I leaned against the counter, playing peek-a-boo with a tan nipple now half-concealed in the bubbles. "Mistaking it for brain damage."

"Uh, uh." She shook her head in the negative. "I read your gender pretty well."

I was beginning to get a little annoyed. Who needed this? "Tell you what, Dr. Richardson, for all my putative failings, I do happen to possess a modest allotment of native wit. And my male intuition tells me your dance card is full right now. That same right-brain perception also suggests it has something to do with this MlTl honcho Asano."

"So?"

"So that upsets me for a couple of reasons, only one of which will probably be of any interest to you. I don't think you have an entirely open mind on the possibility MITI or somebody may be about to try and nail this country to the wall. Because if you admitted that, you would also have to admit something you apparently find distasteful to concede about your Prince Charming." I watched her eyes grow sad. "Stop me if I cross the line from preaching to meddling-to use a little expression from my youth."

"Matthew, you've just ceased being nice." She looked down. "What do you do if you think you trust somebody and then you find out maybe that trust is… misplaced?"

"Old Ecclesiasticus, back in Bible times, told us, 'In the time of adversity, consider.' As advice goes, that's still probably sound value for the dollar. Like for example, you might want to back off and do a little thinking on whether Noda and his crowd have been using you, and me for that matter, like a couple of patsies."

When she said nothing, I pressed on. "I walk into the office yesterday, the first thing I hear about is some MITI connection, then tonight I hear about your MITI connection, and it's starting to sound like the same tune. Like maybe these guys have been playing you like a violin."

"But why me?"

"Credibility. And low profile for MITI's grab. By sending you out to meet the victims, they've thrown the hounds off the scent. Dr. Save-American-Industry has come to help. You're so goddam clean, Tam. Impeccable credentials. You're gold to those guys." I was set to give her a blast, but I decided to try keeping the lid on for once. "Maybe a better question than why they chose you is why you went for it. How did they brainwash you?"

"Nobody brainwashed me. I still think Noda's being straight. He can think in global terms. That's a rarity."

"And how about this Asano character? You sure gave me the message to back off when I questioned his intentions."

"Maybe I've been thinking with something besides my head." She sighed and leaned back. "But then, maybe not. I have no reason to believe he'd mislead me."

"Look, I don't know anything about the situation. But I respectfully suggest you ought to reflect on that possibility." I looked at her. "By the way, I seem to remember you said there was something else about the list that struck you as odd."

"It has to do with the kind of research being done by those new firms on the list. A pattern." She paused.

"What pattern?"

"I'd rather not say just yet. Until I'm sure. It's probably just my imagination."

Something snapped inside me about then. Anger. Tam Richardson, I was rapidly concluding, was being used by those bastards. And as best I could tell, this idealistic woman couldn't let herself believe it. The situation royally pissed me off. Even more when I also suspected this Asano operator had somehow been playing fast and loose with her heartstrings. I decided then and there I wasn't going to let them get away with it.

A strange psychology takes hold of you when you sense you've been temporarily outflanked; I think it's that primal human response somebody once dubbed flight or fight. You realize you've got two choices: you can either stand your ground, or you can make a run for the sidelines. So what to do about Dai Nippon and Noda and Mori and Asano? Right then and there I made a tactical decision. I decided that-like the caveman facing the saber-toothed tiger-the best defense would be to try and make the beast back off.

More to the point, it wasn't merely Tam that was imperiled. Maybe Henderson's suspicions were right; maybe this was the handshake that turned into a karate flip, the beginning of World War II, Part B. So I figured I owed it to myself and everybody else to at least uncover the truth.

No entity, I've always believed, is unstoppable, no matter how massive. There's always a soft underbelly somewhere. After a while any big organization gets cocky and makes a blunder. Sometimes, in fact, you can lure them into it. I concluded there was only one way to go, head-to-head with Dai Nippon. You want peaches, you shake the tree.

"Okay, you've got your theories, I've got mine. But for both our sakes, I think it's time we moved on them."

"What do you mean?" She looked up.

"I suggest we start with a little information gathering." I turned on the hot water again, nice and noisy, then continued. "What do you say we go up and take a little private look around the offices."

"Tonight?"

"What better time. Weather alert, right? Nobody's there. It's perfect. We can fast-talk the security, get in, and check the place over."

"And where, exactly, do you propose we look?" She examined me skeptically. "I'm there every day."

"How about that new office Mori commandeered for herself. I think we ought to poke around and see what she's got. Maybe try and locate the rest of that document, if nothing else."

"I'm not sure we ought to be doing anything quite that drastic, at least not just yet."

"I didn't claim it was approved by Amy Vanderbilt. I just say we ought to give it a shot. If we don't look into this, who will? Maybe we'll find something to explain the so-called pattern you think you see."

"Matt, for all I know, that may be nothing more than a coincidence. If Noda found out we'd done something like this, the whole ball game would be over."

"That's the chance we take. Let's just see what we can come up with, okay? Personally, I'm beginning to think Noda and your pal Asano are both world-class con artists." I poured a little more cognac for us both. "But whoever's right, we should at least try to find out. Who knows? What if it's becoming a MITI show now, for some purpose neither of us can imagine?"

"All right." She looked apprehensive for a second, only a second, and then her eyes hardened. "You know, Noda and Mori claim I'm Fujiwara… on my mother's side naturally." She laughed. "And you know something else? I feel in my bones that it's true. I believe it. I'm Japanese, Matthew, and I'm proud of that."

I glanced over at a set of samurai armor stationed just outside the bathroom door, glistening enameled steel. '"Tell you the truth, I'm second to nobody when it comes to admiring Japan's ethic and their guts. But I tend to draw the line at 'master race' talk. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't object too strenuously if they did manage to beat us in a fair contest. Hell, we won round one and they were remarkably sporting about it. But what I want is to make sure round two is fought on level ground. No inventing new rules, no rabbit punches or below-the-belt stuff. That's all I ask."

"How about showing me some of those swords you claim you collect?" She came out with it, just like that.

"My pleasure. Like nothing better."

Besides, it seemed a good time for a change of pace. I straightened up and headed for the back parlor upstairs, then around the corner to the sword room, its door now fully repaired from the strange break-in. I fished out the key and snapped open the lock.

Funny thing, but walking around fully dressed / had started feeling out of place. Maybe it is merely a state of mind.

All right now, where to start? This was a crucial moment. My first impulse was to go all the way to gold, that marvelous katana dating from the early Kamakura, or even before, said to have come from the forge of the Shogun Yoritomo Minamoto's personal swordsmith. But wait a minute. After that, what? Maybe the absolute tops should be saved for a more auspicious moment. That sword was, to my mind, an almost sacred work. Maybe instead we ought to start with something a little offbeat, then gradually work up to the best and sharpest.