“Maybe there’s something like that involved,” Laurie confessed. “I do want to do it myself.”
“Well, just tell me one fact, then,” Jack said. “Did you find out if your victim yesterday had a seizure?”
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“Yes, I believe he did.”
18
MARCH 26, 2010
FRIDAY, 9:10 a.m.
T
he huge 747-400 banked gracefully on its approach into New York City’s JFK
airport. A few minutes later it touched down onto the tarmac on runway 13R
with hardly a jolt, another perfect landing of Flight 853 from Tokyo to New York by way of the North Pole. Once the plane’s momentum had been brought to the appropriate speed, the captain exited the runway and began the lengthy taxi to the terminal.
It had been a long flight for Hisayuki Ishii, and he stretched his arms and legs.
Luckily, he had been able to sleep on and off for nearly eight hours and felt reasonably well despite having been incarcerated for more than half a day in an aluminum cylinder. Of course, having been in first class had helped. Vaguely he wondered if his two lieutenants, Chong Yong and Riki Watanabe, had fared as well a few rows back in business class.
The protracted flight had provided Hisayuki a rare opportunity to just think. His normal days were generally so full that it was a luxury to be able to concentrate.
He hadn’t come up with any particularly new ideas in relation to the current problems, just a clearer idea of what to do. Since Satoshi and family were now gone, it was the lab books he needed to get, which was what he’d thought at the beginning of the flight, and he was now more convinced. The lab books provided the legal basis of contesting the Kyoto University patents. Of course, the other issue of critical concern was the relationship with the Yamaguchi-gumi, the real reason he’d made the snap decision to fly to New York the morning after he’d met with the Yamaguchi-gumi oyabun, Hiroshi Fukazawa. He had to be certain that Saboru Fukuda did not suspect that Satoshi had been murdered, which would depend on whether Hideki Shimoda’s men had carried out the hit the way Hisayuki had specified.
With those thoughts in mind, Hisayuki took out his cell phone and placed a call to Hideki. As the phone rang, he glanced out the plane’s window. As high off the ground as he was, it seemed that the huge plane was crawling forward slowly, tempting him to complain to the staff, as he was impatient to arrive. Of course, he didn’t, but the thought made him realize how tense he was concerning the situation and about learning what changes had occurred since he’d been in the air and out of touch: Has the raid gone well at iPS USA? Were the lab books in 163
their possession? Had there been anything in the media that might alert the Yamaguchi-gumi to the fact that Satoshi and his family had been murdered?
Hisayuki was eager to hear the answers to these questions and was understandably impatient for Hideki to answer.
When Hisayuki was about to give up, Hideki answered gruffly in English, suggesting he’d been asleep. He quickly changed his tone, his attitude, and his language when he recognized the voice of his oyabun.
“What has happened since we spoke last?” Hisayuki demanded, speaking quietly in Japanese. He’d learned during the flight that the Caucasian man sitting next to him spoke only English.
“Some things good, some things bad,” Hideki said.
“Better to tell me the bad first,” Hisayuki said nervously.
“My two most dependable men have disappeared since yesterday afternoon. You met them on your last visit: Susumu Nomura and Yoshiaki Eto.”
“As I recall, they were supposed to go on the raid of iPS USA last night.”
“That’s correct, but they never appeared at the meeting place to hook up with Barbera’s men. Barbera’s men reportedly waited around an hour or so for them to show up, but they never did. When I tried to call both of them last night and earlier this morning, all I got was voicemail. I’m worried they are not going to reappear.”
“What about the break-in?”
“It never happened, which is understandable. Barbera-san and his men were helping us, not vice versa.”
Hisayuki paused and tried to think. This was very bad news indeed. Nervously, the only thing that came to mind was that the Yamaguchi-gumi had killed Hideki’s men as revenge for Satoshi’s murder. He asked Hideki if he thought likewise.
“I’m afraid I do,” Hideki said regretfully. He then related what Louie Barbera had told him Susumu and Yoshiaki had said to Louie’s men—namely, that they were afraid of the Yamaguchi-gumi because of a threat they’d gotten from them about killing Satoshi.
“Was this before or after the hit?” Hisayuki asked.
164
“It had to be before,” Hideki said.
“That does not make sense to me,” Hisayuki said, trying to understand. “From the Yamaguchi standpoint, there is little reason they would suspect we knew anything about Satoshi, especially his coming to America. And we wouldn’t have if it hadn’t been for the government telling us. I truly do not understand what’s going on, unless the government is using this situation to sow discord between us Yakuza and to excite a turf war.” Hisayuki thought about the government possibly being involved in such a duplicitous scenario but quickly dismissed it.
The issue about the Kyoto patents was too important to be mixed up with any secondary goals.
At that moment the plane arrived at the gate.
“We are going to be getting off here in a minute,” Hisayuki said. “You’ve given me the bad news, but now give me the good.”
“So far there has been no mention in any of the local or national media concerning Satoshi’s or his family’s deaths.”
“None?” Hisayuki questioned.
“None.”
“But if that is the case, how would the Yamaguchi-gumi know of Satoshi’s death and know that Susumu and Yoshiaki had done it or were about to do it?”
“I have no idea.”
Hisayuki again questioned silently if the government, for some unknown reason, might have informed the Yamaguchi-gumi that the hit was going to take place, but he again dismissed the idea. It did not make sense. The government wanted Satoshi murdered, and they also wanted the lab books. “I am confused,”
Hisayuki admitted. “I have the feeling there is something else involved in all this, but I fail to understand what it is.”
“Perhaps Susumu and Yoshiaki will suddenly appear,” Hideki said optimistically,
“and have some reasonable explanation of their whereabouts over the past twelve hours.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice.”
“Although there’s been nothing in the media about Satoshi, there’s a chance that 165
may change.”
“And why would that be?” Hisayuki questioned.
“When Barbera-san called me last night to let me know Susumu and Yoshiaki had failed to show up, he informed me about a problem.”
“I’m listening,” Hisayuki said.
At that moment Chong Yong, Japanese by birth but Korean by ancestry, and Riki Watanabe appeared at Hideki’s row and began retrieving Hisayuki’s hand luggage from the overhead bin. Most of the rest of the first-class passengers were already disembarking.
“I’m going to have to deplane in a moment,” Hisayuki said to Hideki. “We can meet at the Four Seasons hotel on Fifty-seventh Street in an hour or so. Be there!”
“Certainly. But let me finish so you’ll know what is happening. Barbera-san told me he has a contact at the city morgue who confirmed Satoshi’s death was considered to be natural but that it is being investigated by a woman doctor who is apparently suspicious for some reason that it is not natural. What’s scary is that she has a reputation for being correct and, in Barbera-san’s words, solving difficult cases.”
“That’s not good,” Hisayuki mumbled.
“I agreed, and so does Barbera-san. Last night he said that he’s gotten a warning to her to drop her investigation.”
“Has she done so?”
“I don’t know yet. Barbera-san said he was going to check this morning.”
One of the cabin attendants approached. “Mr. Ishii. We are here in New York.”
Behind her came a crew of janitorial personnel with cleaning equipment.
Hisayuki stood but kept his phone against his ear. At the same time he nodded to Chong and Riki, who had his hand luggage, to follow him, and he headed for the door.
“Call Barbera-san and request a meeting this morning!” Hisayuki said.
“Specifically, ask him if this woman doctor has heeded his warning, and if not, tell him that we would be interested in learning everything there is to know 166
about her.”
“I’ll call him right away,” Hideki said. “Will you be willing to drive out to Queens to meet him?”
“Only if he insists,” Hisayuki said. “Maybe you could remind him that I’ve just flown in all the way from Tokyo. Perhaps he’ll have mercy. But if he complains, tell him I’d be happy to accept his hospitality.”
“I think he’ll be willing to come into the city,” Hideki suggested. “I think he likes it. Most all of our meetings are in Manhattan.”
19
MARCH 26, 2010
FRIDAY, 9:30 a.m.
H
ello, Miss Bourse,” Ben said brightly.
“Good morning, sir!” Clair said, pulling her eyes away from a novel she was surreptitiously reading behind her monitor. No one had come in during the previous half-hour, and she essentially had nothing to do.
“Is Carl in yet?” Ben asked as he walked by the receptionist, hardly slowing his rapid gait.
“Yes, he is!” Clair called after the CEO.
Poking his head into Carl’s open office, Ben said, “Can I see you?” Without waiting for an answer, Ben continued down to his own office. He hung up his coat in his closet before sitting behind his desk. The late-March morning sunlight blazed into the room through the open door into Jacqueline’s office that faced east. The back of his black leather desk chair was hot from its power. Ben called out hello to Jacqueline, whose desk was out of view, and she returned his greeting.
By the time Ben moved the latest batch of journals to the side and cleaned the center of his desk, Carl entered and took his usual seat front and center. With sun streaming though the open door into Jacqueline’s office, he had to squint.
“Are you making any progress with a possible iPS RAPID deal?” Ben asked, forgoing any small talk. Ben had been thinking of little else to avoid obsessing 167
about Satoshi presumably enjoying himself in Washington, D.C., where Ben was now convinced he’d most likely gone.
“As much as can be expected in so little time. I sent them a number of e-mail inquiries last evening, a fraction of which they have already responded to. I think I’ll hear back on most of them today. The remainder on Monday, for certain.”
“Has anything so far changed your initial impressions?”
“No, not really,” Carl responded. “I think they will respond favorably to an offer to purchase. What price range, I have no idea. My sense is that these guys are true researchers and not necessarily businessmen, and would like to cash out early in the game. Maybe they fear something else might come down the pike and best their patent.”
“Could happen,” Ben agreed. “But my intuition tells me the same thing. I think it’s time to pounce, especially with our market value sure to go up, thanks to our licensing deal with Satoshi. Are you working on that as well?”
“I don’t have time,” Carl joked. “Of course I am. I’ll be speaking with a number of analysts today to see where they think we are, valuewise.”
“All right,” Ben said, indicating that the short meeting was over. “Keep me informed. I want to move on this to take advantage of our angel investors drooling to get more equity.”
Carl got up and stretched. “It’s an enviable position to be in, I must say. As a CFO, I’ve never had the pleasure of this kind of situation with access to seemingly limitless capital.”
Carl got almost to the door to the hall when Ben called after him. “I have a ten-K
training race tomorrow, so I’ll be leaving early. I’ll check in with you before I do.”
Carl gave Ben a thumbs-up sign before turning back around to leave.
“Carl,” Ben called out again. “I forgot to ask—have you seen Satoshi yet this morning?” Actually, Ben had not forgotten. Feeling superstitious yet again, he’d hoped that Carl would have brought it up. By having to ask, Ben was certain he was going to get a negative reply, and he did.
“Not yet. Did you ask Clair, in case he slipped by me?”
“I didn’t,” Ben admitted.
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“He didn’t come in yet,” Jacqueline yelled out of sight from her office. “I asked Clair when I came in, and the answer was no, and he hasn’t come in while I’ve been here.”
“There you go,” Carl said. “He’s not here yet.” Carl touched his forehead in a kind of salute, and disappeared down the hall.
Ben shook his head with disappointment and a touch of paranoia. Why was Satoshi doing this to him? Ben then glanced at the will and the other trust documents making him Satoshi’s son’s guardian as well as the trustee if something were to happen to the parents. Under normal circumstances, they would have provided him a modicum of reassurance. But they didn’t. The problem was that they had not yet been signed by Yunie-chan, Satoshi’s wife.
With sudden determination, Ben reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cell phone. With the same sense of superstition that had kept him from asking Carl about Satoshi, he’d yet to try Satoshi’s number that day. Ignoring the feeling, he dialed Satoshi’s number. The moment he heard the beginning of the generic outgoing message, he voided the call. Instead, he dialed Michael Calabrese’s office number. As usual, he didn’t get the placement agent, and instead had to leave a message on the man’s voicemail. As irritating as it was under the immediate circumstance, at least he was confident he’d get a call back, in contrast to the messages he had been leaving Satoshi.
Impulsively, Ben picked up the trustee document and turned to the signature page. There was Satoshi’s signature, along with his inkan seal. The signature was nothing more than a wild scribble. Ben had learned that it was the reddish-orange inkan that was the important part, along with the two witnesses, who were both iPS USA employees. There was also Pauline Wilson’s signature as the notary. The only thing missing was Yunie-chan’s scribble and her inkan seal.