Michael Crichton - Rising Sun

"Why not?"

"Because American companies feel over-regulated by the government already. Forty percent of all American exports are covered by security regulations. Our government doesn't allow our computer companies to sell to Eastern Europe. The cold war is over but the regulations still exist. Meanwhile the Japanese and Germans are selling products like mad. So the Americans want less regulation. And they see any attempt to block the MicroCon sale as government interference."

I said, "It still doesn't make sense to me."

"I agree," Ron said. "The American companies are going to get killed in the next few years. Because if Japan is the sole source of chip-making machines, they're in a position to withhold the machines from American companies."

"Would they do that?"

"They've done it before," Ron said. "Ion implanters and other machines. But the American companies can't get together. They squabble among themselves. And meanwhile the Japanese are buying high-tech companies at the rate of about one every ten days. For the last six years. We're being disemboweled. But our government doesn't pay attention, because we have something called CFIUS – the Committee on Foreign Investment in the United States – that monitors the sale of high-tech companies. Except CFIUS never does anything. Of the last five hundred sales, only one was blocked. Company after company gets sold, and nobody in Washington says boo. Finally, Senator Morton makes a stink, and says 'Wait a minute here.' But nobody's listening to him."

"The sale is going through anyway?"

"That's what I heard today. The Japanese PR machine is hard at work, cranking out favorable publicity. And they are tenacious. They are on top of everything. I mean everything– "

There was a knock at the door, and a blond woman stuck her head in. "Sorry to disturb you, Ron," she said, "but Keith just got a call from the Los Angeles representative for NHK, Japanese national television. He wants to know why our reporter is bashing Japan."

Ron frowned. "Bashing Japan? What's he talking about?"

"He claims our reporter said on air, 'The damn Japanese are taking over this country.' "

"Come on," Ron said. "Nobody would say that – on air. Who's supposed to have said that?"

"Lenny. In New York. Over the backhaul," the woman said.

Ron shifted in his chair. "Uh-oh," he said. "Did you check the tapes?"

"Yeah," she said. "They're tracing the download now in the main control room. But I assume it's true."

"Hell."

I said, "What's the backhaul?"

"Our satellite feed. We pick up segments from New York and Washington every day, and replay them. There's always about a minute before and after that isn't aired. We cut it out, but the raw transmission can be picked up by anybody with a private dish who wants to hunt for our signal. And people do. We warn the talent to be careful what they do in front of a camera, But last year, Louise unbuttoned her blouse and miked herself – and we got calls from all over the country."

Ron's phone rang. He listened for a moment, and said, "Okay. I understand," and hung up. "They checked the tape. Lenny was talking on camera before the feed, and he said to Louise, 'The goddamn Japanese are going to own this country if we don't wise up.' It wasn't on air, but he did say it." He shook his head ruefully. "The NHK guy knows we didn't run it?"

"Yeah. But he's saying it can be picked up and he's protesting on that basis."

"Hell," Ron said. "So they even monitor our backhaul. Jesus. What does Keith want to do?"

"Keith says he's tired of warning New York talent. He wants you to handle it."

"Does he want me to call the NHK guy?"

"He says use your judgment, but we have a deal with NHK for the half-hour show we send them every day and he doesn't want that risked. He thinks you should apologize."

Ron sighed. "Now I have to apologize for what wasn't even on air. God damn it." He looked at us. "Guys, I have to go. Was there anything else?"

"No," I said, "Good luck."

"Listen," Ron said. "We all need good luck. You know NHK is starting Global News Network with a billion dollars in capitalization. They're going to take on Ted Turner's CNN around the world. And if past history is any guide . . ." He shrugged. "Kiss the American media goodbye."

As we were leaving, I heard Ron say on the phone, "Mr. Akasaka? Ron Levine, over here at AFN. Yes, sir. Yes, Mr. Akasaka. Sir, I wanted to express my concern and deep apologies about what our reporter said over the satellite– "

We closed the door, and left.

"Where now?" I said.

The Four Seasons Hotel is favored by stars and politicians, and it has a graceful entrance, but we were parked around the corner by the service entrance. A large dairy truck was pulled up to a loading dock, and kitchen staff was unloading cartons of milk. We had been waiting here for five minutes. Connor glanced at his watch.

I said, "Why are we here?"

"We're complying with the Supreme Court, kohai ."

At the loading dock, a woman in a business suit came out, looked around, and waved. Connor waved back. She disappeared again. Connor got out his billfold and took out a couple of twenties.

"One of the first things I learned as a detective," Connor said, "is that hotel staff can be extremely helpful. Particularly since the police have so many restrictions these days. We can't go into a hotel room without a warrant. If we did, whatever we found in a search would be inadmissible, right?"

"Right."

"But the maids can go in. Valet and housekeeping and room service can go in."

"Uh-huh."

"So I've learned to maintain contacts at all the big hotels." He opened the door. "I'll only be a moment."

He walked to the loading dock and waited. I tapped the steering wheel with my hands, The words came into my head:

I changed my mind, this love is fine.

Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire.

On the loading dock, a maid in uniform came out, and talked to Connor briefly. He took notes. She held something golden in the palm of her hand. He didn't touch it, he just looked at it, and nodded. She slipped it back in her pocket. Then he gave her money. She went away.

You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain.

Too much love drives a man insane.

You broke my will, but what a thrill—

A valet came out onto the loading dock, carrying a man's blue suit on a hanger. Connor asked a question, and the valet looked at his watch before he answered. Then Connor crouched down and peered closely at the lower edges of the suit coat. He opened the jacket and examined the trousers on the hanger.

The valet took away the first suit, and brought a second one out onto the dock. This one was a blue pinstripe suit. Connor repeated his inspection. He seemed to find something on the coat, and scraped it carefully into a small glassine bag. Then he paid the valet and walked back to the car.

I said, "Checking Senator Rowe?"

"Checking a number of things," he said. "But, yes, Senator Rowe."

"Rowe's aide had white panties in his pocket last night. But Cheryl was wearing black panties."

"That's true," Connor said. "But I think we are making progress."

"What've you got in the bag?"

He took the little glassine bag out, and held it to the light. I saw small dark strands through the plastic. "Carpet fibers, I think. Dark, like the carpet at the Nakamoto conference room. Have to check with the lab to be sure. Meanwhile, we have another problem to solve. Start the car."

"Where are we going?"

"Darley-Higgins. The company that owns MicroCon."

In the lobby beside the receptionist, a workman was mounting large gold letters on the wall: DARLEY-HIGGINS INC. Beneath that it read EXCELLENCE IN MANAGEMENT. More workmen were laying carpet in the hallway.