Linnear 03 - White Ninja (9 page)

'Kusunda Ikusa, it is an honour to meet you,' Nangi replied in kind. 'The presence of Nami is felt, its voice heard.'

Kusunda Ikusa nodded, satisfied that the preliminary rituals had been properly observed. He lifted an arm dense with muscle and fat. 'I have reserved a private space so that we may speak freely.'

He led Nangi into the pool area, an enormous place with an overarching ceiling dim with height. The pool was echoey, filled with hushed, murmuring voices which were nonetheless thrown back and forth in the space by the curved, tiled ceiling and walls.

Ikusa stopped at a small alcove. Tiny, pale green wavelets licked at the green tiles. Seven feet into the water, a pebbled glass screen had been erected. Light passed through this translucent barrier, bringing with it anonymous shadows moving slowly, somnolently in the enormous pool beyond.

Ikusa slipped effortlessly into the water, and Nangi, placing his cane on the tiles beside the pool, climbed in with some difficulty. Nangi wondered whether Ikusa's choice of venue was deliberate. Nangi had to put his physical disability on public display.

For a time, they floated in the deliciously warm water, shedding like dead skin the memory of the frenetic world outside. Here, they were at peace, enwombed in the buoyant water. This was, at any rate, the atmosphere that Ikusa apparently wished to manufacture.

Nangi closed his good eye and, gripping the side of

the pool, thought of nothing. He did not open his eye, or focus his mind until Ikusa cleared his throat.

Then he saw those laser-beam eyes contemplating him, and he blinked as if he could not bear their scrutiny. Reflected light coming off the water in patches illuminated Ikusa's face as if it were a screen upon which sun and clouds chased one another in ever changing patterns.

And, indeed, it was a land of screen, reflecting more than light. Nangi knew that he would need to read that face if he were going to hold his own in this conference.

'Nangi-san,' Kusunda Ikusa began, 'Nami wishes to speak with you concerning a matter of the utmost urgency.'

'So you indicated in our telephone conversation,' Nangi said neutrally.

'Nami has some concerns - some significant concerns - regarding the way you run your business.'

Nangi showed nothing on his face. 'I was not aware that Nami had any reason to scrutinize Sato International.'

'Two events made it necessary,' Ikusa said. 'The first is your involvement in Tenchi. The exploratory oil release programme is government-sponsored, so it is natural that Nami should be involved.'

When Nangi saw that Ikusa was not immediately prepared to continue, he closed his good eye again, as if he were alone, relaxed and meditative. He did not care for the way this meeting had begun: there was already an accusatory tone hi Ikusa's voice, non-specific and, therefore, particularly offensive. Now Ikusa was deliberately baiting Nangi by failing to provide the second reason for Nami's interest in Sato International.

It occurred to Nangi that, from the first, Ikusa's tactic had been to provide offence. What did he mean to gain by this? Was it merely an attempt to establish control, a sense of territory? Or was there another, more sinister motive?

Nangi cleared his mind, aware that one could spend all one's time asking questions, when what he needed to do was to watch Ikusa, listen to him as Nangi sought to draw him out. Only then would the answers come.

'Three years ago,' Ikusa said at last, 'the Tenchi project came within a hair's breadth of being compromised by the Russians. Since then, Tenchi has yielded significantly less than had been initially projected.'

Nangi stirred the water. 'True enough. But in the first place, it was Nicholas Linnear who almost singlehandedly kept Tenchi's secret from the Soviets. In the second place, we have found that the shale at die bottom of the ocean near the Kurile Islands is significantly more dense than is normally found offshore. Our geologists are now convinced this is so because of the large number of earthquakes here. The make-up of the underlayers of shale is quite different.'

There was silence for some time. The moving shadows painting themselves across the pebbled glass screen were diffuse. Combined with the soft lapping of the wavelets, they provided a kind of sensory film on to which one could imprint one's own interpretations.

'Nami has read your geologists' reports,' Ikusa said in a tone that implied disapproval.

Nangi was aware that he was being baited again. Ikusa had made no allegations against either Nangi or Sato International. Nor, Nangi suspected, would he. Did Ikusa know anything? Nangi asked himself. Or was he on a fishing expedition? That would explain the baiting. Lacking anything of a substantial nature, he might be relying on Nangi himself to provide Nami with any evidence of wrongdoing.

'Then,' Nangi said, 'Nami knows that we are making every effort to bring Tenchi up to full capacity.'

Tenchi,' Ikusa said languidly, 'is just part of the issue.' He paused, beating the water in front of him with his

feet, so that ripples spread outwards. When they readied Nangi, he said, 'The origin of Nami's concern - anxiety would not be too strong a word under the circumstances - lies elsewhere.'

He only had to be patient, Nangi knew, and Ikusa would tell him the real reason for this meeting. Nangi had secrets - deeply buried, it was true, but he was still vulnerable, as everyone who harboured secrets was vulnerable. Despite his best intentions, Ikusa's form of interrogation was seeping into him. He knew he must redouble his own efforts not to let his own anxieties do Ikusa's work for bun.

Nangi speared the other man with his good eye. 'Whatever it is you need to know,' he said, 'it is my wish to provide.'

'Even though your own personal philosophy does not often run parallel with Nami's?'

'I know where my duty lies,' Nangi said evenly. 'In the same concentric circles where every Japanese's duty lies. Emperor, country, company, family.'

Ikusa nodded. 'There can be no doubt,' he said. 'But in what order, one wonders?'

Nangi said nothing, aware that Ikusa was waiting for Nangi to indict himself.

Ikusa said, quite disrespectfully, 'If your heart is pure, Nangi-san, you have nothing to fear.'

Nangi saw that this was to be a trial by fire. He also saw that mere neutrality on his part was not going to work; Ikusa was too smart for that. Nangi knew that in order to draw the other man out, he needed to go on the offensive. But this tactic was a double-edged sword: it was, in itself, fraught with danger, and it could be just what Ikusa wanted; for the more Nangi spoke, the more he revealed of himself and his own strategy.

'Public sincerity,' Nangi said, after some deliberation, 'is no substitute for nobility.' He was tired of being the

subject of discussion. 7/i o haru is perfectly fine,' he said, using the Japanese term for sticking to one's position even after it had been proved wrong, 'for sixteenth-century Tokugawa ronin or romanticized Yakuza but, in this complex present, I have found iji o haru used, more often than not, as a subterfuge to grab a handful of personal power.'

Ikusa blinked, clearly surprised by Nangi's forceful attack. He knew perfectly well that Nangi had just now put into question not only his, Ikusa's, motives, but the motives of Nami as well.

'Nami is beyond both criticism and reproach,' Kusunda Ikusa said rather stiffly.

'Betrayal,' Nangi replied carefully, 'is never sacrosanct. It must be ferreted out wherever its insidious roots take hold.'

Kusunda Ikusa stirred and, for an electric instant, Nangi thought he was going to be attacked. Then the big man settled back in the water. Wavelets from his agitation reached the edge of the pool, splashing water on to the tile surface of the lip.

True,' Ikusa said, 'betrayal at any level cannot be tolerated.' And Nangi noted with some satisfaction the strangled tone of his voice. 'And that is why we have met, why we are here now.'

'Betrayal.' Nangi rolled the word around in his mouth as if it were a wine whose provenance needed deciphering. He was wondering whose betrayal Ikusa meant, and what that betrayal entailed. He did not have long to wait.

'Nami's concern,' Kusunda Ikusa said, impaling Nangi with his stare, 'lies with your iteki partner, Nicholas Linnear.'

Beyond the translucent glass screen, now beaded with moisture, shadows continued to move, their indistinct outlines a perfect counterpoint to this strange meeting.

Very carefully, Nangi said, 'Nicholas Linnear is the subject of Nami scrutiny?'

'Just so,' Ikusa said, a trifle pompously. He had meant to shock Nangi with his statement and, now that be had been assured that he had succeeded, he was again on solid ground. He liked that, and Nangi made a note of this weakness. 'You must understand, Nangi-san, that for a decade Nami has chafed beneath the harness the Americans - and, indeed, the world - have placed around our necks. Over and over we have been reminded that we are a defeated, an impoverished country. Is this not a form of brainwashing? And what happens when even the strongest man is a victim of decades of forced indoctrination? He begins to believe what he has been told to believe. That is what has happened to Japanese of your generation.'

Kusunda Ikusa lay in the water, huge and as bloated as a toad gorging itself on insects. His youth seemed somehow obscene to Nangi, as if in Ikusa the opportunity for experience and learning was wasted.

Ikusa continued his monologue. 'But people such as myself - members of a younger generation - have grown up knowing only a Japan with a vital economy,' an ever-strengthening monetary unit. Now the tables are turned, Nangi-san. Now it is we who are invading America, buying up real estate, record companies, banks, electronic businesses. It is the Japanese who are, in effect, keeping afloat an America that is awash in fiscal debt. For years we have bought their government bonds. Now we are snapping up their corporate bonds and, very soon, we will own these corporations as well. In all areas, we see a distressing lack of quality in American products. The world which, I have read, once laughed at a Japanese-made product, now laughs at American-made items. I have been told that the Americans taught us everything we know about engineering and quality control. I find that difficult to believe.'

Ikusa's face trembled with a kind of inner rage, as if he himself had been personally insulted by these world events, as if he were outraged Japan. 'America, iris true, still possesses an awesome array of natural resources, which we will never have. And the might of their military forces is terrifying. But, ask yourself, Nangi-san, is America the same nation that occupied us in 1946? No. Illiteracy and,crime are problems that increase with each year. America is now struggling with the downside of mongrelizing its population. Its open-door policy to immigrants will be its ultimate undoing. Fiscally, it has a debt it cannot possibly support. Bank failures are on the increase and, as we know, they create a snowball effect. America is a country in serious decline.'

Nangi said, 'Even granting that all you say is true, I cannot see what any of it has to do with Nicholas Linnear.'.

Ikusa grunted, and his great body heaved, setting a fresh set of wavelets in motion. 'Nicholas Linnear's parentage may be English and Oriental, but he is an American now. One, I might add, with ties to the American intelligence community. Never forget that he was employed by a major American spy apparatus when he was captured by the Russians, and tortured.'

Ikusa paused here, allowing the last word to hang in the air as if it were an accusation.

Nangi said, 'Linnear-san endured much pain and suffering in order to keep the secret of Tenchi safe from the Soviets.'

Ikusa smiled, as if he had expected this response and was gratified that it had been spoken. 'Your loyalty to this mongrel is well documented, Nangi-san.'

Nangi sat very still. He had to use every ounce of his self-possession to keep from making a rash statement that might, hi Ikusa's eyes, condemn him. 'As I told you,' Nangi said in a calm voice, 'I know where my duty lies.'

'Americans/ Ikusa said as if Nangi had not spoken, 'are masters of lies and deception. When they are your enemies, they defeat you; when they are your friends, they exploit you.'

Nangi, listening closely, knew that Ikusa had moved from the general to the specific: he was speaking about Nicholas.

'The merger between Sato International and Tomkin Industries never should have been allowed.' Kusunda Ikusa's head moved in small increments, taking in not only Nangi, but the surrounding environment as well. 'For one thing, Tenchi is too vital to Japan's future security and independence from foreign sources of energy. I need not remind you that the fact that Japan has been totally dependent on others to provide fuel has made us terribly vulnerable. This was the spur for Tenchi's creation.' Ikusa's questing eyes had settled upon Nangi again. 'Another reason why the merger was a mistake is that your company, Nangi-san, is privy to too many secrets - industrial, governmental, even military - to have an American so intimately involved. You have already put us in peril. It is unreasonable to think that you can continue in this vein.'

Nangi said nothing, though he now knew what was to come. Let Ikusa say it out loud, he thought. I will not help him in any way.

'Nami believes that this unsafe association with the American - both business and personal - must be ended,' Kusunda Ikusa said. "The sooner the better.'