Thomas Hoover - The samurai strategy

"Only you could appreciate how much." My head was swimming. Judging from the surrounding technicians' reverent gaze, I got the definite impression they had totally missed the significance of our exchange. Kenji Asano was now wearing a pure poker face. What was he thinking?

My own concentration, however, was elsewhere at that particular instant. The new realization: Matthew Walton is a dead man. As of this moment. Noda would never let me live to tell what I knew.

Just then an official wearing some sort of formal-looking black kimono emblazoned with the kiku crest of the Imperial Household Agency came walking briskly out of the office behind us. He was carrying a silver case, about cigar-box size, something etched across its filigreed lid. He walked over to Noda, bowed deferentially, and settled it on the workbench next to Kenji Asano's briefcase.

Nobody paid him much notice, however, since we were all still admiring the Sacred Sword. Finally my brain started to function. Dates? Right… the night I met Noda… which got me out of the house… his hirelings cleaned out my office… that was about, what, two weeks before the sword was "discovered." Perfect. Just enough time to salt the thing in the Inland Sea, let his high-tech research team fish it up…

The technician bowed to us once more, then started spreading the satin cloths back over the two compartments. Down came the stainless steel lid. Click. History time was over.

That was when, finally, Ken looked over and noticed the silver case. He stared at it, puzzled, then glanced at Noda, for whom it obviously was intended, and inquired politely concerning what it might be.

Noda cleared his throat, mumbled something about official DNI business, and started thanking the Household rep who'd brought out the case.

However, the Household man showed his breeding. He picked up Ken's question, smiled and bowed, then proceeded to explain that it contained the only copies of DNI's original technical analyses of the sword-X-ray crystallography scans, nondestructive radiation tests, various scientific data he didn't actually understand but which had been used by Dai Nippon to establish the sword's alloy composition and therefore its Sacred authenticity. These data had been forwarded to the Imperial Household with instructions they be kept under lock and key. He'd understood all along that they had merely been on temporary loan to the Emperor, and thus he had no objection now that the honorable Noda-sama had requested their return for additional study by DNI scientists. All of Japan was in the debt of the esteemed Matsuo…

Kenji Asano turned to stare at me, his eyes gradually filling with an enormous realization.

You know, I used to have a hobby of reading biographies of the geniuses who'd come up with the truly original insights of modern times. How, I puzzled, did they manage it? I mean, did Newton really watch an apple fall and intuitively sense it was responding to some invisible force? Maybe. Or how about Einstein's insight that matter and energy are really the same thing? Or that space can be curved? Whatever happened, they made a connection that nobody else in history had ever come up with.

Who can explain how these breakthroughs happen? They're always the result of standing off and viewing reality in a wholly new way.

With apologies, I've invoked some heavy names. But the point is, there are transcendental moments when a given set of circumstances is suddenly seen to fit more than one paradigm of how the universe functions.

Standing there looking at the silver case, Kenji Asano saw the apple fall from the tree. And I was only seconds behind him.

New insight number one: Something very fishy was going on with the Imperial Sword, something which would not necessarily stand the light of day. (On that one I was actually several seconds ahead.)

Number two: If the truth came out, Japan would be a laughingstock worldwide. Worse, His Imperial Majesty would have egg all over his Imperial face. As would Matsuo Noda. Hence the box, having served it's PR purpose, had to go.

Number three: The first two insights pointed to the very real possibility that Matsuo Noda had long since passed around the bend, sanity-wise. But whether he had or not, one thing was clear-that silver case contained everything we needed to nail Dai Nippon.

Who knew for sure what was in it. But Ken and I both realized at that instant the contents had to be pure dynamite.

What happened next I probably wouldn't have believed if I hadn't been standing there to witness it with my very own eyes. Kenji Asano was calmly extracting a Peace cigarette from the packet in his left breast pocket and inserting it in his mouth. Then his right hand came up and out of his thumbnail flared one of those wooden matches he liked so much.

"Asano-san, sumimasen." The senior staff man stepped forward and blurted out, "No smoking, please."

"Sorry," replied Asano, and he flicked the still burning match toward the waste bin there at the end of the table- which just happened to be piled high with the solvent pads they'd been using to scour the tsuba. A lab can be a dangerous place, and this one was no exception. A microsecond thereafter the floor was carpeted in flame.

Later I theorized what must have occurred, remembering a long-ago personal disaster that almost got me kicked out of college. The heavy aromatic solvent they were using, probably a benzene compound, had vaporized off the cleaning pads, drifted down over the sides of the container, and was hovering as an invisible, heavier-than-air cloud just above the floor at knee level. The exact same thing happened to me once in a Chem 201 lab-during an after-hours endeavor wherein I was steaming out a twenty-gallon benzene container preparatory to an experiment on the propensity of brewer's yeast to convert grape sugar into potable ethanol. The sink happened to be situated next to a gas-fired hot-water heater-which suddenly kicked on. Next thing I knew, the heavy fumes around my ankles detonated. Along with the lab fire alarm.

That explosion, as this one, was actually minor, mostly noise, though it sounded like a bomb. The fumes flashed and it was over, leaving no damage other than to the nervous system of any bystanders. This time, however, there was an added ingredient. The waste container. It had become an instant inferno, billowing dark, toxic smoke into the room.

As yelling lab technicians began rushing in with fire extinguishers, everybody else was bolting for the exits, including the security people. All in all, it seemed a reasonably propitious moment to make our own departure as well, since we'd been the cause of the ruckus. Ken fumbled around in the smoke now obscuring the workbench till he recovered his briefcase, and then we headed out.

At the door I caught sight of the Household official and bowed my thanks.

"Domo arigato gozaimashita. I am deeply honored by this opportunity to view the Imperial Sword of Emperor Antoku." I bowed again. He nodded back and glared at Asano.

I'd planned to thank Noda too, but he was still in there with the confusion, undoubtedly standing personal guard over his Sacred Sword. Let him stay. There was no real danger. The fire should be out in no time. It was mainly smoke anyway.

Ken was also bowing his farewells to one and all. Then, as though on cue, we both started edging toward the main hallway. By now security people were running down the corridors and the place was in pandemonium.

When we reached the lobby, I almost wanted to bolt for the outer door, but we managed to keep our exit dignified, businesslike. Finally as we cleared the last security checkpoint, I turned to him.

"You really should be more careful with your smokes, Ken." I lowered my voice. "Manage to grab it?"

"In my briefcase."

"Then let's get the hell out of here. Noda's going to figure out what happened any second now and go totally bananas."