Linnear 03 - White Ninja (68 page)

It was just past six on a pink pointillist morning, and Ikusa had no difficulty in discerning Masuto Ishii in the shell-coloured haze. Ishii was Sato International's vice-president of operations, a key man in Tanzan Nangi's operation, perhaps even in his strategies, and when he had called late yesterday, Ikusa had immediately agreed to meet him.

Ikusa was wary, as he approached the little man, but not as suspicious as he might have been in other circumstances. Normally, Nangi's people were notoriously loyal in a land known for its loyalty. But the Nakano deal, especially the detonation of the bomb Ikusa had left hidden in the contract, had shaken a lot of leaves off the tree. For the first time in its history, Sato International was in real trouble. Everyone knew where the trouble came

and what it would take to get rid of it. Ikusa, so secretive before, had wanted this public now; he wanted Nangi's confidence shaken, his people anxious.

So, in a sense, Masuto Ishii's call had not been unforeseen. The one surprise was that it had come from someone so high up in the Sato keiretsu, someone so close to Tanzan Nangi. Ikusa was inclined to take that as a very good sign. Over the course of the last few days - ever since he had done away with the man spying on him and Killan - he had allowed his feeling of elation full rein. He was on the verge of obtaining everything he could hope for, everything he ever wanted. The thought sent shivers down his spine.

The two men made their ritual greeting at the break of day, with the city waking all around them. They began their circumnavigation of the garden. Ikusa could feel the nervousness emanating in waves from the other man.

Though he had familiarized himself with all of Sato International's top management months ago in preparation for his raid, Ikusa had brought Ishii's file up on his computer screen just before meeting him to make certain he remembered every detail.

Ishii had been at Sato for twenty years, and was an integral part of its growth during that time. He was a small, almost tiny man, wiry, with quick, intelligent eyes magnified from behind thick glasses. His only vice appeared to be gambling, an all too common Japanese pastime as far as Ikusa was concerned.

Ishii was a quiet, family man, but was by no means meek. There was a story about him that during the communist riots down by the docks just after the war he had, as a twenty-year-old boy, swung a crowbar into the side of the communist leader's head. 'Anyone who wants to overthrow the Emperor has to kill me first,' Ishii was reported to have said. The dock workers were back at their jobs that afternoon.

'Ishii-san, it comes as some surprise that you would want to meet with me,' Kusunda Ikusa said as they passed a sheared dwarf azalea in full flower. 'Aren't I considered by some to be the enemy?'

Ishii responded to his ironic tone with the trace of

a smile. 'Enemies are often a matter of semantics,' Ishii

said. .

And Ikusa thought, What you mean is, a matter of convenience. But he said nothing, confident that he could allow Ishii to do all the work at this meeting.

The day had just begun, and already it was growing hot. Ikusa could see Ishii sweating beneath his dark grey pinstripe suit. The collar of his white shirt was damp.

The little man did not disappoint Ikusa. He said, 'May I speak candidly, Ikusa-san?'

'Of course. We are all part of one family now.' Radiating benevolence. "There is no difference between us.'

"The matter is simple, really. That is, it is a straightforward one.' Ishii mopped his perspiring brow with a handkerchief.'It involves money.'

Ah, Ikusa thought, seeing the point at which he could ford the stream. He disguised the distaste he already felt for Ishii's weakness of character. 'If I can be of assistance.'

'I'm afraid I am an inveterate gambler. Often, I regret to say, my desire exceeds my means.'

'Have you tried to curb this desire of yours, Ishii-san?'

'Oh, yes,' the little man said, mopping his brow again. He could not seem to keep it dry. 'Many times. Nangi-san was kind enough to pay for my rehabilitation.'

'And yet?'

Ishii shrugged. 'I do my best, but I cannot overcome it. No matter how long I stay away -I once abstained for a year -I must go back.' He shrugged again. 'Karma.'

'Yes, unfortunate karma,' Ikusa said. He turned a corner, Ishii following as obediently as a dog on a leash.

'But, tell me, why come to me? Surely Nangi-san can obtain a loan for you. I assume he has done so in the past,'

'Once or twice,' Ishii admitted. Now Ikusa could discern a trace of despair in his voice. 'Frankly I was afraid to approach him this time. The recent turn of events has him off-balance, angry. But finally I brought myself to ask. Nangi turned me down. He said I had a lesson to learn. I understand his anxiety over other matters, but I feel this was not right. I have been a loyal member of the Sato family for years. It is my life. Now he has turned his back on me when I need his help the most. It is unfair.'

'Ah, well, the most accommodating of employers...' Ikusa left this thought deliberately open-ended. 'And the banks, Isnii-san? Can they not be of service?'

'I need the money by the end of the week, Ikusa-san. No bank will pass a loan that quickly.'

They passed beneath the shade of a plum tree. 'What size loan would satisfy the debt?'

When Ishii told him, Ikusa spent some time pretending

to consider. 'Well, I think you've acted correctly coming

to me, Ishii-san. I'm sure we can work out an exchange

of services.' ,

'Oh, Ikusa-san, I would be most grateful, most grateful,' Ishii babbled with embarrassing emotion.

Ikusa looked at him out of the corner of his eye as if the little man had dropped his pants and defecated in the azaleas.

They walked for some time in silence. Ikusa watched the joggers on their circuit, their lungs soaking up the carbon monoxide. What possible health benefit could be derived from that? he wondered.

'By the way,' Ikusa said, breaking the contemplative silence, 'what exactly is Nangi-san thinking? He's lost the heart of Nakano, and he can't sell the worthless shell he's bought so dearly. What is he going to do?'

'Well, it's not just him now,' Ishii said. He seemed to be a different person, relieved of the burden of his gambling debt. It was, of course, a matter of face that he should be able to pay on time and in good faith. 'He and Linnear-san have got together to plot strategy.'

'Nicholas Linnear is back?' Ikusa was momentarily so nonplussed by the news that he blurted it out. "That is to say, I had heard reports that he disappeared.'

Ishii shrugged. 'I don't know about that. But if they were true at all, he's back.'

Damnit, how is it I didn't know about this? Ikusa asked himself. And where the hell is Senjin? He was supposed to be taking care of Linnear. If Linnear has returned, he should have informed me. That could be trouble.

'Do you have any idea what Nangi and Linnear are planning?'

'Not specifically,' Ishii said. 'I do know that a number of MTTI officials came to see them yesterday.' This could be more bad news, Ikusa knew. Nangi was a former vice-minister of the powerful Ministry of International Trade and Industry., Though Mill and Nami professed to be essentially on the same course, Ikusa knew that this was not always the case. He did not actually know how strong Nangi's ties remained with his erstwhile ministry, but Ikusa was not hi the habit of underestimating bis enemies. Nangi had been in his day a fierce practitioner of kanryodo, the art of the bureaucrat. What strings he could still pull were as of now a matter of conjecture.

'Ishii-san,' Ikusa said. 'If you meet me here at this time tomorrow, I will have your money.'

The little man bowed. Domo arigato, Ikusa-sama. I will of course sign a note agreeing to any rate of interest you see fit.'

'Oh, that will not be necessary,' Ikusa said, taking the opening. "This is a matter of trust between equals..

He used an inflective, the Japanese equivalent of a wave of the hand. 'And as for interest, there will be none.' He looked into Ishii's wide-eyed face. 'But if I might ask for an alternative form of payment?'

'Anything, Ikusa-san. I am most grateful for your

understanding and generosity.' ,

'It is very little,' Ikusa said, making the ritual response to a compliment. 'This is what you might do for me: when you meet me tomorrow, I would appreciate knowing what strategy Nangi-san has decided on.'

At approximately the same time that this meeting was taking place, but in an eastern section of Tokyo, Tomi and Nangi were making their way along the water-slick pavement dockside at Tsukiji, the sprawl of single-storey buildings on the bank of the Sumida River which winds through the city.

Tsukiji was Tokyo's vast wholesale fish market, where more than $12 million-worth of fish was sold every day. Today, however, there was something other than fish at Tsukiji.

Using her credentials, Tomi pushed their way through the police barriers, around the Medical Examiner's ambulance. Lights blazed, creating pools across the slick docks. Workers in black slickers and high boots, carrying curved fish hooks and water hoses to spray the lines of fish lying on their sides, gleaming in the hazy morning sunlight, stood around staring, talking among themselves as their open-mouthed catch piled up on the dock.

Nangi walked slowly. He leaned heavily on his cane, and his face was lined and drawn tight by concern. The sky was suffused with the milky light that presages sunrise, the illumination of preconsciousness that gives everything a surreal quality, blurring edges, making definition indistinct.

Tomi stopped at the edge of the indigo river. Boats

bobbed at their slips as their cargo was off-loaded to be inventoried, sprayed, priced for the morning's sale.

Nothing, however, was going on. The men on the boats were staring at a mounded plastic sheet spread over a six-foot length of the dock.

'They polled him out of the Sumida not more than forty minutes ago,' Tomi said to Nangi. "That's when I was called.' She pointed. 'He rose up to the surface, bumped against the side of this boat here. The captain looked over the side, called the police.'

With that, she gestured, and the plastic tarp was thrown back.

'Dear God,' Nangi breathed.

'Is it him?' Tomi turned to him. 'Can you make a positive identification?'

'Yes.' Nangi had difficulty swallowing. 'That's the Pack Rat.'

Tomi nodded, as if to herself. She pointed. 'I don't know what happened, but you can see where he was weighted down with something, maybe iron bars. That's how they do it.'

'Who?'

'Yakuza.'

Nangi was bent over the Pack Rat's bloated corpse. 'This wasn't a Yakuza hit.'

'You seem sure about that.'

'I am,' Nangi said. "The Pack Rat had too many friends among the Yakuza.'

'Where there are friends, there are bound to be enemies,' Tomi pointed out. "That's the law of the jungle.'

'No doubt,' Nangi said. 'But look here - and here - these wounds. A blunt and heavy Weapon was used.' He looked closer. 'It seems to me these are the wounds inflicted by a tetsubo.'

'Isn't that a feudal weapon? If I recall my history, it was used for opening up armour plate and breaking war

horses' legs,' Tomi said, coming closer. 'I've never seen one at work.'

'Well, I have,' Nangi said. 'A long time ago. A real tetsubo match isn't pretty. It's a matter of great skill combined with brute strength to successfully wield a solid iron bar mounted with iron studs.' Nangi put bis cheek against the dragon head of his cane. 'Poor boy,' he said softly. 'It takes a nasty mind to want to use one of these things. You have to want to inflict fatal damage. Tetsubo matches are invariably to the death.'

'You mean they still exist?'

'You're looking at evidence that they do,' Nangi said, straightening up. He had said his goodbye to the Pack Rat. They walked away from the forensic team, so they would not be overheard. 'What was found on the body?'

'Not a thing,' Tomi said. 'He was either carrying nothing or he was stripped before being dumped in the river. My guess is the latter.'

'I agree,' Nangi said. 'Though the Pack Rat was very careful. He would not have been carrying anything but false identity papers, some money. Nothing incriminating that would let anyone know what he was doing.'

'He popped up like a cipher, but the description you gave us was what caused the investigating officers to call me,' Tomi said. 'I'm sorry, Nangi-san.'

Nangi nodded. 'It's sad. And terribly bad luck for me. The Pack Rat was my eyes and ears inside Kusunda Ikusa's strategies. He gave me only a broad outline of what he had discovered at our last meeting. I'm sure he had so much more.' But perhaps it doesn't matter, Nangi thought. He had solved the riddle of Ikusa's raid: to gain control of Sato International and its Sphynx t-pram division.

And yet, this was only an assumption. Nangi longed for outside confirmation. If only the dead could talk, he thought bleakly. What secrets would you tell me, Pack Rat, if you could?

Nangi said, The one thing of interest he did mention was that somehow Killan Oroshi, the daughter of Nakano's chairman, was involved with Ikusa. That struck both of us as odd. She might be the only lead we have left now.'