The Nicholas Linnear Novels (155 page)

She had soaped up and was soaking, her knotted muscles slowly unwinding, when the phone rang. There was an extension within reach and she used it. It was Allonge. He had been set up with a temporary office at Sato Petrochemicals and had returned to the hotel to change for lunch. He was a shirtsleeves man and no one had told him how formal the Japanese could be.

When Justine asked about Nicholas, Allonge did not know what to tell her. He heard the agitation in her voice and did not want to alarm her unduly by telling her he had no idea where his boss might be. Instead he said he would find out and would call her right back. He disconnected and called Sato’s office. No, there was no word as yet from Mr. Linnear. Did Allonge-san wish to speak with Nangi-san?

Tanzan Nangi’s return from Hong Kong was news to Allonge and he said, “Yes, put me through, please.” When the connection was made he told Nangi about Justine.

“Bring her back with you,” Nangi said. “I’ll talk to the young lady.”

Nangi put down the receiver and swung away from his desk. Having just an hour ago deplaned at Narita, his thoughts were still partially back in Hong Kong. He thought of Fortuitous Chiu and his Dragon father. But even more his thoughts were concentrated on the Green Pang Triad. Sometime within the month they would raid the Sun Wa Trading Company on Tai Ping Shan Street. There would be violence, people killed. One of those people would be Mr. Liu; perhaps another would be a young woman by the name of Succulent Pien.

Whatever the outcome, it would have nothing to do with Nangi; it was, rather, Triad warfare; a territorial dispute. Or at least that would be how all the newspapers would write it up; how the populace would see it. That was the accepted way of life in the Crown Colony. Lo Whan would have to accept it as well.
Karma.
Perhaps he should have consulted a
feng shui
man before entering into the agreement with Nangi.

In fact, the raid had been agreed upon by Nangi and Fortuitous Chiu before the meeting with Lo Whan at Ocean Park took place. That had been the reason for all the
h’eung yau
spread around, the partriotic angle that Nangi had asked Fortuitous Chiu to bring up to Third Cousin Tok. Nangi had not abrogated his agreement with Lo Whan; and the disinformation connection with Redman would cease to exist within three weeks time.

But his satisfaction was to be shortlived because in a moment a discreet knock was heard at his door and Nangi swiveled around. He saw Kei Hagura, one of Seiichi’s senior vice presidents.

“Enter, Hagura-san.” The man looked decidedly unwell, Nangi thought. Perhaps he needs some time off with his wife and children. There is nothing like being with one’s family to restore the spirit.

“Pardon me for intruding, Nangi-san.” Hagura was bowing profusely. His face was white and pinched and over his shoulder Nangi became aware of a stir within the hive of offices on the fifty-second floor.

“Come, come, Hagura-san.” Nangi’s voice was slightly irritated. “What can I do for you?”

Hagura’s head was down; his eyes would not meet Nangi’s own. “A report has just come over the wire from our Hokkaido office. There has been some kind of…well…an accident, perhaps. No one is quite certain as yet.”

Nangi sat forward, his pulse accelerated.

“What sort of accident, Hagura-san? How bad was it? Who was involved?”

“I am afraid that it concerns Sato-san.” Hagura’s voice was faltering just as if he had contracted laryngitis. “There has been some form of automotive accident.”

“And Sato-san?” There was a catch to Nangi’s voice. “How is he?”

“There was no chance for anyone,” Hagura said. He did not want to say the word, as if his reluctance would make all of this mere speculation rather than fact.

“Hagura-san,” Nangi commanded.

The senior vice president closed his eyes in acquiescence to the inevitable. “Sato-san is dead, sir.”

Nangi was careful to let nothing show. Face was all important now, he knew. This
kobun
was like a
samurai
in the employ of the Shōgun. It was absolutely committed to its course. It could only march forward; never retreat. Even to falter was forbidden. And
Tenchi
could not wait.

“Thank you, Hagura-san. I appreciate how difficult this must have been for you.”

Hagura bowed, accepting the compliment. “It was my duty, Nangi-san.” Inside he was mightily impressed with Nangi-san’s
wa.
He felt the harmony still pervading the room, lending it power. In the face of his tragic and totally unexpected news this was heartening indeed. The news of what had happened in here would spread through the
kobun
, Nangi’s heroism and iron determination offsetting some of the void all must feel at Seiichi Sato’s passing.

Alone in the office after Hagura’s departure, Nangi broke apart. Tears filled his eyes; there was a fist in his throat that made swallowing painful. He stared out through the high panes of glass.

First Gōtarō, he thought. Then Obā-chama, Makita. But not Seiichi, never Seiichi. How many people in one’s life were there who one could talk to? How many were there in a lifetime who understood him? One or two, a handful if one were exceptionally fortunate.

Who would he talk to now? Nangi asked himself. Who would he confide in, formulate plans with, gloat over his recent triumph in Hong Kong with? All of this had fallen to Seiichi. Now there was no one.

There was anger as well as a deep and abiding sadness within him now. For this time he turned his love around and hated the God in whom he believed, in whom he put all his trust, and into whose care he had delivered his immortal soul.

How could you do such a thing? he railed inside. Where is the sense of it? There was only a perception of harsh cruelty, of an unfairness so huge as to be overwhelming. They had been like twins, Tanzan and Seiichi, knowing each other’s heart, trusting each other’s spirit through all their squabbles, arguments, disagreements. And as in every good marriage, those battles had been ironed out in the end to the satisfaction of both of them. No more. Why?

Had Nangi been able to see himself objectively at that moment he would have understood that he had lost more than the friendship he held most dear. He had also lost the Eastern sense of acceptance and resignation, that belief in the course of a cosmic sense of life. He had lost his place in the scheme of things, and that was a serious matter, indeed.

His mask slipped back on his face when Craig Allonge brought Justine into the fiftieth-floor garden where Nangi wished to receive her. The Tomkin Industries executive did not remain long. He made the introductions, then left for his business lunch.

So, Nangi thought, looking her over, this is Raphael Tomkin’s daughter. Is she still in love with the
gaijin
Linnear? he wondered. He had heard about their icy demeanor at Tomkin’s funeral.

“May I offer my personal condolences, Miss Tomkin?” Nangi said, inclining his head. “I knew your father personally and admired him greatly.”

Justine almost said, That’s Miss
Tobin,
but already the distinction she had created herself years ago seemed artificial and meaningless.

Instead, she nodded. “Thank you, Nangi-san. Your generous bouquet was most appreciated.” She looked around. “It’s beautiful here.”

He nodded in return. “May I get you a drink?”

“A gin and tonic would be nice,” she said, sitting down on one of the chairs near a stand of green bamboo. What’s going on here? she asked herself. He seems old and shaken. She knew from Nicholas that she could not ask a direct question.

She sipped at her drink, studiously ignoring Nangi’s limp as he went from the bar to a chair near her.

“It is somewhat of a surprise to see you here in Tokyo,” he said after he had seated himself. “Is there something specific I can help you with? You have only to ask. I will assign a young lady to take you shopping to all the finest stores. At night, a male escort will take you—”

“I’ve come here to see Nicholas,” she said, stopping him in midsentence. She resented the assumptions he had made about her simply because she was female but she had the presence of mind to show none of this. On the exterior she was cool and calm and thus, in Nangi’s eyes, gained enormous face.

He was impressed despite himself. “I see. Well, that is an admirable reason for traveling all this distance.”

And as he paused, Justine felt her insides go cold. How she longed to scream out, What’s happened? Is he all right?

“Do you know where he is at the moment?” She was quite surprised to find that her voice was steady. Nicholas would be proud of her. But with that thought, tears brimmed her eyes. What has happened? she asked herself again.

“Unfortunately, no,” Nangi said. “I myself have just returned from a lengthy business trip. I am being filled in now as to events that have transpired in my absence.”

He’s so damned calm, Justine thought. How does he do it? She was unaware that she was matching Nangi stride for stride.

Every moment that Nangi sat talking with this
gaijin
his respect for her increased, grudgingly at first, then more freely. Because of her
wa,
he decided to tell her what she would otherwise find out hours from now.

“I am afraid that there has been some sort of mishap, Miss Tomkin. In my absence Sato Seiichi”—he used the Japanese form—“has been killed in an auto crash.”

“Oh, my God.” Justine’s hands gripped each other in her lap, her drink forgotten beside her. “Was he…alone?” Her voice had gone quite low.

“I understand your concern,” Nangi said. “And, yes, my information is that he was alone in the car at the time of the mishap.”

Justine’s eyes closed, a muscle tic beginning in one eyelid.
Mishap,
she thought. He uses the word like doctors use the word
expired
, to tidily explain away something dreadful.

“I’m…I’m terribly sorry, Nangi-san,” she said. “Please accept my condolences. I have heard many stories of Sato-san’s prowess in business and personal life.”

Nangi stared openly at her, amazed. Where was the gush of disgusting emotionalism he had expected from this barbarian? Where was the embarrassing reference to Sato and Nangi’s closeness that would have humiliated him? Neither had come. Instead she had expressed the proper sentiments in the proper manner, honoring both of them as well as Sato-san.

“I appreciate your thought, Tomkin-san,” he said, his voice softened by emotion. “You are welcome to return to your hotel. Or, as I said before, I will assign company personnel to take you about the city, as you wish. In any case, you will be informed the moment we have word of Linnear-san’s whereabouts.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to stay here,” Justine said. “That is, if you don’t think I’ll be in the way.”

“Absolutely not,” Nangi said, and rang for Kei Hagura. He had learned his lesson; no woman was summoned.

In the dense forest surrounding Itami’s house, Nicholas began his search, employing several of the simple implements he had taken from his aunt’s kitchen with her blessing.

He was searching for any of several kinds of holes in the ground, and it took him some time. The forest was thicker than it had been when he had been here as a young boy. But that could only be his imagination, for one is never as alert to one’s surroundings when at a place one despises.

The sky, when he could catch a glimpse of it through the arching canopy of branches and leaves, seemed odd and yellow. It was certainly no longer day, yet it was like no twilight he had ever seen before. Too, the atmosphere felt different. It was as heavy as lead, windless, not a blade of grass stirring. Even the insects were quiescent. He saw no birds.

At length he found what he had been searching for and went to work. Most of the time was spent up in a tree, waiting. When he was finished and quite satisfied, he set off.

In little time he found an outcropping of rock and settled down on it to wait.

And that was how Akiko found him, sitting in the lotus position. Darkness was encroaching, long shadows as blue as ice creeping along the woodland carpet, over rocks and toadstools, moss and wildflowers. It was the time of the evening when, normally, the changeover from diurnal to nocturnal was being made. Larks and finch giving way to whippoorwills and owl, boar and rabbits to foxes and weasels. There was little stirring.

She stopped before him. She had emerged out of the dense foliage as just one more shadow, approaching. “I regret that I could not bring you back your
dai-katana
,” she said.

“Would you have killed me with it?”

She answered him only in the most oblique fashion. “Come down off your lofty perch,” she said, “and we will speak together.”

With deliberation, Nicholas descended. He was thinking of Masashigi Kusunoki. Ever since Sato had mentioned that name in connection with the Tenshin Shoden Kaktori
ryu
, it had stuck in his subconscious like a thorn. Although he had been away from Yoshino for quite a long time, still he knew of no
sensei
either in Japan or outside it who went by that name.

Yet he knew that Sato had not lied, and that he had not been lied to. For what possible purpose would either thing have been done? He could think of none. Masashigi Kusunoki existed—or had before he had been murdered—yet he did not exist. Who had he been, and who had killed him?

Had it been Akiko, his pupil, who had sat before him across the
tatami
, speaking of mundane matters, hiding her intent with what Kydki, the madman, had taught her so that the
sensei
felt only the glow of her
wa
, and was thus put off his guard? Was that what she was about to do with him now?

Grass verge served admirably as their
tatami.
Darkness, stealing in over the hills and tree tops, shrouded them, nocturnal creatures that they were, gentling them in its webbed cradle. They were home again in the blackness of the night. The merest trace of starblaze smeared their faces in cold blue highlight.

“I would have found you out even without the tattoos,” he said.

“No one but you would have understood their true nature.” Her head inclined slightly.