The Miko - 02 (13 page)

This concerned where the Sphynx-Sato manufacturing plant should be built. Apparently Tomkin had done almost eighteen months of cost estimates comparing construction timetables, weather pattern analyses, production and shipping logistics, all of which pointed to building the plant in Misawa, on land owned by the
keiretsu.
The plant’s only neighbor in this small town in the extreme northwest of Honshu, Japan’s main island, was an American Army base.

But, as Sato had pointed out during the opening negotiations, that piece of land had already been designated for use as an expansion site for the
keiretsu
’s Niwa Mining
kobun.

Around and around it had gone, with no side gaining or giving any ground. It was maddening, Nicholas thought now. Ordinarily it wouldn’t matter much. In different times he was confident that they could outlast Sato and Nangi; Nicholas’ own patience would have ensured that.

However, he was recalling the discussion he had had with Tomkin just before they had left the hotel to get into the limo Sato had sent for them.

He had been struck by the paleness of the other man but Tomkin had only dismissed his query disdainfully. “Just a bout with the flu,” he had said. “If you’d been up all night with diarrhea, you wouldn’t look in the pink either, iron man.”

“Just keep calm no matter what happens in there,” Nicholas had advised. “They’ll do everything they can to slow down the pace, to equivocate while subtly needling us.

“They’ll want to get a glimpse inside our guard so they can study our strategy. Also they will need to know just how far they can push us. To go beyond that would lose them great face.” He had shrugged. “It’s strictly S.O.P.”

Tomkin’s haggard face leaned into his so that he could smell the other’s sour breath, rising from his empty roiling intestines. “Then you do something to shake ’em out of their standard operating procedure, Nick. I don’t give a goddamn how you do it, just get it done. I’m not one of those candyasses coming to Japan hat in hand begging for an operating license.”

“Fine. Then all we have to do is wait them out. Do I have to tell you again that patience is everything here? It’s the one quality they cannot conceive of in a foreign devil. Don’t worry. I’ll get you what you want from them.”

But Tomkin’s voice changed and he clung onto Nicholas’ arm like a child. “No, no,” he breathed, “you don’t understand, Nicky. There isn’t any time. This deal’s got to be set by next week the latest.” His brown eyes turned inward. “I…I have commitments I can’t turn my back on…. There’re great sums of money dependent on this merger…Loans that come due…Payments to be made…Above all, payments…Debts to be fulfilled.” Then, refocusing, the eyes came to rest on Nicholas’ face. “You won’t let me down, Nicky. Not now. Why, you’re almost my son-in-law.”

Nicholas turned away from the rain-streaked window as he heard Tomkin return. In a moment he felt the big man’s presence beside him.

“Now’s the time, Nicky,” Tomkin whispered. “I almost hit Nangi a couple of minutes ago. They’re like goddamned mules.”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Nicholas began. “They’re doing just what I told you they would do. It’s only a matter of—”

But Tomkin had him by the coat sleeve. “Now, Nicky. We can’t afford to wait. You know that. You’ve seen the reports, for Christ’s sake. We’ll be eaten alive back home.”

“Then let’s give them Misawa. We can build—”

“No!” Tomkin’s tone was sharp. “Misawa’s a non-negotiable point—no matter what, understand?”

Nicholas took a hard look at his boss. “Are you all right? Maybe I should call a doctor.”

Tomkin winced. “Goddamned Japanese bug. I’m getting it from the inside as well as the outside.” He gave a short bark as if to dispel Nicholas’ concern. “Whatsamatter, Linnear, don’t you think I know the flu when I got it?”

Nicholas stared hard at him for another minute, then gave a curt nod. “Okay. Sit down at the table. I’ll be there in a moment. I want to be the last one. Then shut up and let me do the talking.”

“What’re you gonna say?”

“Don’t you like surprises?”

“Not with a multimillion-dollar merger,” Tomkin muttered but did as he was told.

Nicholas turned back to the blurred cityscape and thought of nothing. Behind him silence had settled over the room. He could smell the tobacco from the fresh cigarette Nangi had lit, hear the soft whir of the central air-conditioning. Nothing else.

Strategy. He went back to the master, Musashi. What was called for here was a variation of “Existing Attitude—Nonexisting Attitude.” He had been taught that in battle when one takes up the
katana,
whenever one springs, strikes, hits, even parries the enemy’s sword, one must cut the enemy in the same movement. If one thinks only of springing, striking, hitting, or parrying without the inner sense of cutting, no damage will be done.

Nicholas took three deep breaths. He turned and went back to the conference table where the other five men were patiently awaiting him. He now knew what he had to do, but he required a clue to the Japanese strategy before he could decide how to do it.

He looked to Nangi, who was in the process of tapping his cigarette on the edge of the ceramic ashtray before him like a conductor bringing the assembled to order.

“Perhaps we have covered as much ground today as it is possible to,” he said in a neutral tone of voice. Sato shook his head immediately.

“In my experience, bargaining is often difficult. Pathways are often locked for long periods at a time, then quite suddenly are free. I think we should continue.”

Nicholas watched this charade with intense interest. He had encountered this bear and badger strategy before; he knew it well, in fact. When he had been working for Sam Goldman’s advertising agency in New York, he had suggested just this line to take on a recalcitrant client. It had worked quite well. Goldman had been the bear on that one—the hard man. That had made the client instinctively want to bring Nicholas into his camp. Nicholas had played the badger—the soft man—to perfection.

Before Tomkin had a chance to respond, Nicholas said, “As far as I can see, we’re at a total impasse. I agree with Nangi-san. I don’t see where further discussion at this time will do any of us any good.”

“You want to break this off?” Sato said somewhat incredulously, so startled that he neglected to use the polite form of address.

Nicholas nodded. “Unless you can come up with a more constructive suggestion, I’d say the best thing for all of us would be to cool off for a while.” The thing was to confuse the roles: side with the bear, rebuff the badger.

“My feeling is,” Sato said quietly, “that a recess will only solidify our respective positions. The next time we meet, I fear we’ll be even further apart, more committed to making a stand.”

“None of us, I think, wants a confrontation,” Nicholas said carefully. “We’ve come here to work together for mutual profit.” He paused, fully expecting Tomkin to chime in with a statement reiterating the urgency of starting up the chip-manufacturing process. But the other was silent.

“We are all by now aware of the necessity for speed in setting up the Sphynx-Sato
kobun
,” Nicholas said. “I must tell you that there has already been a certain amount of, er, clandestine activity around our main Sphynx locations in Connecticut and in Silicon Valley. We are, quite frankly, in a similar situation to the one in which you find yourselves here. We are small with, to be sure, an enormous growth potential. But for today we are overshadowed by the three or four giants who would literally give up half their net profits for the past five years to gain the secrets of the new Sphynx T-PRAM, the totally programmable random access memory chip.”

“If you are having security difficulties,” Ishii said, rising to the bait, “you surely cannot expect us to lift a hand to help you. Not after the scandals of last year and the year before.” He was referring to the members of a number of Japan’s most prominent computer companies being caught in their attempts at industrial spying in Silicon Valley.

“You misunderstand me entirely,” Nicholas said, his tone as well as his words deliberately abrasive. “What I mean is that if attempts at industrial espionage against us are beginning in America, it is only reasonable and prudent to expect the same situation to arise here. Other than the property in Misawa, which, I think we are all agreed, is perfect for our joint venture—if, of course, you were not already in the process of greatly expanding the Niwa Mineral Mining
kobun
—what is available is a small but adequate tract in the middle of the Keiyo industrial belt in Chiba prefecture.”

Ishii nodded. He was a bearlike individual, roughly handsome, with short bristly hair and clever eyes a soft brown color. The muscles of his arms and chest rippled his suit jacket. “There is our perfect site.”

Nangi smiled thinly, sensing the corner into which the
gaijin
had painted himself. “Ishii-san is quite correct. As you know, Keiyo is built on landfill reclaimed from Tokyo Bay. It is close to the center of the city, close to Sato Petrochemicals’ main offices and plants. The logistics of shipment and transceiving would be greatly simplified and, as such, would more than compensate for the higher real estate cost of the land itself.” Nangi sat back, pleased with the way in which the negotiations were progressing.

But only Nicholas could read that subtle display in a face that was in all ways perfectly serene. He allowed a small silence to build before he leaned forward and, directing his words at Nangi in particular, said, “But that is what worries me the most. Keiyo’s nearness to Tokyo. That closeness, combined with the fact that our plant would be virtually surrounded by our
larger
and
more powerful
competitors fills me with alarm.

“Sato-san’s
konzern
could not employ enough personnel to stave off the inevitable security problems, nor would we want him to. The cost as well as the added activity would surely be counterproductive to the new
kobun
’s best interests. While, by contrast, when we set up shop in Misawa, a small town far to the north of any major industrial center, we would have as neighbors only Niwa and the U.S. Army base, neither of which as far as I can see pose any security threat to the Sphynx T-PRAM secrets.”

He glanced down at several sheets of paper before him as if they pertained to what he was about to say. “And, gentlemen, as far as the lost land to Niwa is concerned, I have spoken to Mr. Tomkin and he has agreed—since at the time of our merger Niwa will be one of our sister companies whose welfare we must take partial responsibility for—to finance the purchase of new acreage so that the
kobun
’s plans for immediate expansion will not be delayed in any way.”

He spread his hands, watching the awe suffuse the Japanese faces. “Now what could be fairer than—”

A commotion just outside the office door caused him to break off. Several voices had been raised in alarm or anger. Then, riding above these dominantly male voices was a higher-pitched female voice, much closer than the others now. It was laced with an emotion close to hysteria.

In a moment, the door had burst inward and Miss Yoshida half-stumbled in. Strands of black hair had come undone from her perfect coif and now drifted, untended, over her ears and eyes.

Her face was pinched and all color seemed to have faded from her cheeks.

She bent at Sato’s ear. At first, Nangi, who was still smarting from Nicholas’ remarks, paid her no attention. He was far too angry. But as Miss Yoshida continued with her whispered report, as the sallowness of Sato’s skin became more apparent, he turned his withering gaze away.

He said nothing but watched carefully as Miss Yoshida, her tale of woe completed, stood up. Her eyes darted about the room like a pair of frightened plovers, never coming to rest for long, never looking any of the men around the table in the eye.

After a moment, Sato said to Ishii, “Please inform Koten that he is needed.” Then, as the executive departed, he leaned over and spoke for a moment into Nangi’s ear. The older man’s body stiffened and he jerked away from Sato as if the other were giving off an electric shock.

He turned his head. “You will excuse us now, gentlemen. I really must insist. This meeting is at an end. Please see Miss Yoshida on the way out and she will schedule our next session.”

But Sato’s hand was on his arm. “If you don’t mind, Nangi-san, I would like Linnear-san to accompany us.”

“What?” Nangi’s exclamation, a breach—at least as far as he was concerned—of iron-clad etiquette that history dictated could not be broken, was quickly stifled. He wanted to say that this was none of the
gaijin
’s business, that taking him in on such a matter of utter privacy was dangerous. But he had been taught never to argue with a family member—whether business or blood—in front of outsiders. Thus, despite his bitter opposition, he held his tongue, merely bowed his head curtly.

“Please, Linnear-san,” Sato said by way of explanation. “There has been a terrible tragedy. I know of your skills.” He held up a hand as Nicholas began to protest. “Denials are really quite unnecessary.” He put his palms flat on the conference table. “But before we go I must have your own assurance that what you will see and hear will also be held strictly private.”

Nicholas understood the privilege he was being accorded and began to nod his head.

“No member of my company will make such a unilateral promise,” Tomkin said abruptly. “What you are asking could ultimately result in actions detrimental to Tomkin Industries. He cannot make such a pledge.”

“I can,” Nicholas said, “and I do. You have my word, Sato-san, that I will reveal nothing of this to any outside party.”

“Does that include the police?”

“What the hell is this?” Tomkin cried. “What’re you two trying to pull?” He stood up. “C’mon, Nick, let’s get out of here.”

Nicholas made no move to rise. His gaze was locked with Sato’s. “You ask for a great deal.” His voice was soft but nevertheless carried quite distinctly in the room. Miss Yoshida had come out of her anxiety-filled reverie and now stood just behind Sato, staring fixedly at the two of them. Even Tomkin had been silenced.