Linnear 03 - White Ninja (72 page)

Tik-Tik. I'm fast, but I gotta confess not this fast. Why

are you here now when I didn't expect you for a couple

of days yet?' ^

'The timetable has been accelerated,' Nicholas said, flopping down on to an excellent reproduction of a Louis-Quatorze sofa. "The dorokusai burned down our house last night.'

Conny barked an epithet in Japanese that Justine could not understand. 'I'll get tea,' he said.

Justine turned to Nicholas. Her eyes were opaque with fear. He could see her trembling. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

'There was no point before,' Nicholas said. 'What would you have done, except be frightened? You needed your sleep.'

'But, Nick, how did he know where I was going?' She seemed to be begging him to tell her this was all a lie or, at least, a nightmare from which she would eventually awaken.

'I'm afraid you must have told him,' Nicholas said. He was careful not to tell her that he had somehow made her lead him to the cache of So-Peng's emeralds. That bit of humiliation would be too much for her now.

'Oh, my God! Nick, what else did I tell him? I can't remember anything!'

'How can I know that?' he said softly.

Justine's shoulders slumped. She felt abruptly exhausted. It was odd how mentally enervating terror could be, she thought. Then Conny returned with a laden tray, and Justine felt some sense of equilibrium returning.

Each crisis brings its own tea ceremony, she thought. It was very civilized, but it was practical as well. In the time it took to perform the many small but important tasks associated with the ceremony, the spirit could free itself from turmoil, settle in to the accepted pathway of thought that would lead to a victorious strategy.

When the tea had been made, the formalities observed, the tea drunk, Nicholas told Conny what had happened, and what he surmised had happened. This was the part Justine was hearing for the first time as well, and she shuddered as if swallowing bitter wine.

'What do you want me to do, Tik-Tik?' Conny asked after Nicholas had finished.

'You're already doing it,' Nicholas said, looking directly at him. 'But I need cash, credit cards, driver's licence, the works. The office can fix all that up for me. There's still a great deal I have to do, and I've got to do it alone. Will you take care of Justine while I'm out?'

'Nick!' Justine cried before Conny had a chance to reply. 'I want to be with you. I don't want to sit here feeling useless while you - '

Nicholas came and sat beside her. He took her hand. 'Not useless,' he said in that tone of voice she knew so well, which she listened to without question. 'All of us here have our parts to play. But it is essential that we do play them.'

Justine, looking into his eyes, nodded.

'Maybe you lost this guy when you came here,' Conny

said. 'I wouldn't want to try to follow you around town. If you're lost, you can stay lost. Avoid - '

'He'll find me, Conny,' Nicholas said. 'No matter what I do, he'll get here. It's just a matter of time.'

'But we can - ' .

'Forget about avoiding the inevitable,' Nicholas said. 'It's a waste of energy, and we're all going to need a lot of that very soon.' He hunched closer, trying to ignore Justine's terrified face. "The object here is to play a game. Our game. It isn't Hide and Seek; it's Three Card Monte. Illusion's at the heart of this. We show this bastard a seven of diamonds and, when he's close enough to give us a shave, he finds out it's really the ace of spades.'

"The death card.' Conny nodded. 'It's a good plan.'

'It had better be,' Nicholas said. 'It's the only one that'll possibly work.'

Conny cleared the tea cups, disappeared behind an antique Japanese screen depicting white herons in flight above a gold and green sea.

Nicholas turned to Justine, stared into her eyes a long time. Then, he said, 'I wonder whether you know just how precious you are to me.'

'Nick, Nick.' Justine put her head against his chest. Hot tears welled in her eyes. 'I'm so frightened. I feel like I've just got you back. Now, knowing Senjin is so close, I'm terrified. I - '

Nicholas put his hand gently over her mouth.

'Shhh. Be still. Be calm. Have faith.'

'Memo to myself,' the Pack Rat's voice crackled through the micro-recorder's speaker. The entry was dated, as were all the subsequent entries. 'Re: computer virus attack on Sato. Gave floppy record of attack to Mickey for analysis. Said to call her forty-eight hours... Memo to myself: Called Mickey. Right now she's, got nothing. Says architecture of virus is like nothing she's familiar with. That's

the bad news. The good news is she's hooked, fascinated with the project. She wants to run this sucker down, taken herself off all other private projects. Call daily...Memo to self: Called Mickey. Nothing... Memo to self: Called Mickey. Nothing... Memo to self: Mickey says this virus mutates. From what she's been able to piece together so far, it seems the virus actually feeds on the host security system, using it as it adapts to it, to actually penetrate the security to get to the protected files... Memo to self: According to Mickey, the virus is not designed to destroy or scramble host programs. It's a mole virus, meant as a communication link between the protected files and the user of the virus. This is getting crazier and crazier. Mickey agrees. She's flipped over this thing, working on it eighteen hours a day... Memo to self: I think Mickey's close to breaking the virus. From data she's rerun from the magnetic copy Nangi gave me, she's certain now the attack on Sato's computer was a test run. She's also fairly certain the virus is not yet perfected. She says she knows one guy-and only one - who could have come up with this amazing supervirus that adapts to different security programs. He's a certified genius, she says and, guess what? He works at Nakano's R and D department. Coincidence? Must call Nangi soonest...'

The tape was over, but a kind of energy, invisible, pervasive, filled the room. The first dated entry was the day Nangi had first met the Pack Rat in the electronic jungle of Akihabara; the last entry was the day before he disappeared.

Nangi sat staring at the tiny black micro-recorder. They were at Tomi's office at police headquarters. Tomi was pacing back and forth with so much agitation that Nangi, despite his preoccupation with the revelations on the tape, said, 'What's the matter with you?'

Tomi gave a sad little laugh. She stared at him. 'Nothing,' she said through tight lips, 'except that if

this Mickey's right, I think I know who created the supervirus.'

Nangi picked his head up. She stopped her pacing, put her hands on her hips. 'Don't look at me like that. I even know what the virus is.called. mantis. It's an acronym for, let's see, Manmade Non-something, Nondiscriminatory Tactical Integrated Circuit Smasher. I think that's right. According to my friend, it's an adaptable virus. It actually uses the security programs to piggy-back into the computer's core. That word, adaptable, is what stopped me cold.'

Nangi said, 'Your friend created this mantis?'

His quiet voice made her wince. She nodded. 'His name's Seji Kikoko but everyone calls him the Scoundrel. He works for Nakano, in their R and D department. I've known him for years. He's an old, trusted friend. I'm just -I can't believe he knows what his program's being used for.'

'He must.' Nangi looked at her. 'This virus is so new, so radical, he's the only one who could possibly evaluate its results.'

Tomi nodded. She slumped heavily into a chair, ran her hand through her hair. She was obviously devastated. 'I've got to talk to him, find out - '

'Not yet,' Nangi said.

Tomi cocked her head. 'What are you thinking?'

'I'm thinking that at this moment we are in way over our heads,' Nangi said. 'We're in the middle of a conspiracy far larger than I had imagined.' He looked at her. 'Now I know what it's like to be standing in front of a bull's-eye. Nicholas was right. It's one of the things he told me in the car on the way to the airport. He and I have been targeted for months. This kind of operation was a long time in the planning.'

'But what kind of operation is it?'

Nangi rested the point of his chin on his hands, which

were cupped over the dragon head of his cane. 'I'm still not quite sure of its ramifications,' he said slowly, 'or even its full intent. It's similar to this quite amazing mole virus. Like the Pack Rat's computer-language whiz, Mickey: I can see the architecture, but I'm not yet certain of its purpose.'

He glanced at his watch, stood up. He pocketed the tape recorder, said, 'Let's go. It's time we started seeing some fruits of our own operation.'

Masuto Ishii, his vice-president of operations, was waiting when he and Tomi arrived at his house. Umi had made tea and sweets for Ishii, making him comfortable in the nine-tatami room that served as one of the formal rooms.

One entire wall was open to a lacquered wooden engawa that led out on to an interior garden. Ishii, who was sipping his tea, staring out at the azaleas and the peonies, scrambled to his feet, bowed deeply, when Nangi entered the room. Nangi made the introductions as Ishii and Tomi had never met.

Umi came and served them tea, then sat beside Nangi. Nangi said, 'What news have you brought?'

Ishii smiled, withdrew a video cassette from a slim briefcase. 'It is all here, Nangi-san,' he said, offering the cassette with a deep bow. 'Just as you predicted,'

Nangi grunted, took the cassette, slipped it into a VCR sitting on top of a sleek twenty-four-inch TV. The electronic gear came on and, using a remote, Nangi set the tape running as soon as he resumed his place beside Umi.

'Watch closely,' he said.

Coloured bars were replaced by an image. Tomi could see immediately that this was no amateur job; it was professional surveillance work all the way.

The image resolved itself. They all recognized the setting as the Imperial Palace East Garden. Ishii came

into the frame and, shortly thereafter, Kusunda Ikusa. As with, all surveillance tape, this had the date and the running time digitalized in hours, minutes, seconds along the bottom of the frame, so there could be no doubt as to when this was being taped, and no allegations of fraud or splicing.

With a sharp gesture, Ikusa thrust a thick envelope at Ishii, who took it.. Ishii opened it up in the direction of the camera which, as if on a prearranged cue, zoomed in. Tomi could clearly see the stacks of yen.

The two men spoke for some time, walking around the garden. There was no sound track to the tape. At length, Ishii and Ikusa parted. The tape followed Ishii as he got into his car. The car was followed to the other side of Tokyo. The tape stayed with Ishii all the way. He made no stops.

Ishii pulled over on a side street, waited. He looked at his watch. A man came into the frame, opened the back door of Ishii's car, climbed in. The image showed him clearly. He was Catch Hagawa, a well-known bookie, gambling operator. Yakuza-connected.

Hagawa spoke briefly to Ishii. Ishii said nothing, handed over the envelope. It was the same envelope that Ikusa had given Ishii. Hagawa took it, counted the money twice. Then he nodded curtly, stuffed the yen back in the envelope, slipped the envelope inside his jacket. He got out of the car. Ishii drove out of the frame. End of surveillance.

'Good Christ,' Tomi breathed.

Nangi bowed to his vice-president of operations. 'You did well, Ishii-san.'

The diminutive man bowed back, much more deeply. 'Thank you, Nangi-san. The integrity of Sato International must be maintained at all costs. An attack against the corporate entity is a personal attack against every loyal employee. I was humbled by your faith in me. Whatever

I accomplished is little compared with the tasks facing you.'

'Each individual is integral to the whole,' Nangi said, obviously pleased with Ishii's reply. 'Each contribution, if pure in heart, is equally important. This is the way of Sato International.'

Tomi said, 'How in the world did you set that up, Nangi-san?'

Nangi turned to her, smiled. 'It was Nicholas's idea. Are you familiar with the philosophy behind aikido? Aikido is an art of concentric circles. It uses an aggressor's own momentum against him, pulling him in towards you, instead of the more difficult direction, outwards and away.

'We employed the same philosophy here. Instead of fighting Ikusa's attack - pulling away from it to attack him ourselves - we drew him closer to us, we appealed to his essential lust for power, for seeing us utterly defeated. We presented him with a situation of distress.' He told her of Ishii's initial contact with Ikusa. 'Ishii's history made such a story not only logical, but irresistible to Ikusa, because in Ishii's supposed plight, he saw a way to use Ishii against us. As we suspected, Ikusa wished to use Ishii to tell him what our strategy was going to be.' Nangi smiled again. 'Ishii obliged him. Now what we have on tape is visual evidence of Kusunda Ikusa, moral paragon of Nami, passing a great deal of money through an intermediary to Catch Hagawa, a known criminal.'

'But that's not what happened,' Tomi pointed out. 'And Ikusa will be quick to point that out.'

'But he won't be quick enough,' Nangi said. 'You see, on the high moral perch Ikusa has placed himself, there is no room for error. Besides, what will Ikusa say to explain the video away? Whatever lie he uses will be perceived as a cover-up.