Rules of the Hunt (52 page)
Chifune, effectively invisible since she was a woman and her presence,
strictly speaking, unnecessary — both Namakas spoke excellent English — was
amused at Fitzduane's performance.
Knowing what she did, she found the confrontation bizarre, but the
Irishman was carrying off his role with aplomb.
He was being quite charming, and she could see Kei Namaka responding.
Kei evidently saw himself as a leader and a man's man, and reacted well
to having this self-image appreciated.
In Chifune's opinion, he was a case of heart — or, more probably, impulse
— over head.
As for the sinister younger
brother, he said almost nothing, but just sat there noting everything.
He was a cold fish.
"You're most kind, Fitzduane-
san
,"
said Kei Namaka, "and you are right.
Perhaps now it would be appropriate if we
unwrapped
our gifts.
Thanks to Yoshokawa-
san
, I know we share an interest in
medieval weaponry, so I hope you will enjoy the modest token we have selected
for you."
Fitzduane
unwrapped
the long, rectangular
package.
Every aspect of the packaging
was superb, both in quality and in execution, and yet again he could not but
admire the Japanese attention to detail.
With the paper removed, he found himself looking at a long, narrow,
hand-made inlaid cedarwood box about four feet long and eight inches wide,
itself a minor masterpiece of craftsmanship, but obviously the precursor to
something more special.
He was enjoying this.
Even under
these dangerous circumstances, it was fun to receive a present, especially
something that was obviously special.
Of
course, it could be lethal, but that was unlikely, he thought.
The meeting had been arranged by Yoshokawa
and was a public affair.
No, whatever
the Namakas had in mind, he was safe for the moment.
He looked across at the Namakas and smiled in
anticipation.
Kei Namaka beamed back at
him.
The man was enjoying this as much
as he was.
Criminal though he might be,
there was something rather likable about Kei.
Fumio just sat there, stone-faced.
It was hard to warm to Fumio.
"What superb workmanship!" he said, indicating the cedarwood
box.
"I cannot imagine what must be
inside."
He gently caressed the
rich patina of the wood, taking his time.
He could feel Kei's impatience.
The man had childlike enthusiasm.
"You must open the box, Fitzduane-
san
," Kei said.
"Press the chrysanthemum
inlay
in the
middle and slide it to the left and it will open."
Fitzduane did as instructed.
The
chrysanthemum, he knew, was associated with the Japanese royal family, and he
began to realize that what he had been given was very special indeed.
He opened the box.
A magnificent Spanish cup-hilt rapier lay there, cushioned in padded
crimson silk.
The hilt was inlaid with
scenes of hunting and warfare.
The
weapon was an antique, and extremely valuable.
He removed it from the presentation box and it settled in his hand as if
custom-made for him.
"Late seventeenth-century Spanish," he said.
"The long, straight quillons and curved
knuckle bow are typical of the designs of that time — but what a superb
specimen.
What perfect
weight and balance, and what workmanship!"
Kei Namaka looked genuinely delighted at Fitzduane's obvious surprise and
pleasure.
"Fitzduane-
san
," he said, "we heard from
Yoshokawa-
san
that you are a
swordsman of some renown and a knowledgeable collector, so this small token
seemed appropriate.
Your weapon of
choice is, I believe, the epee, the sporting evolution of the rapier, and it
was that fact that motivated this particular selection."
Fitzduane smiled his appreciation.
"I do fence a little, that is true, but I'm not sure I am in the
same league as this fine weapon.
Also,
the swords I use have blunted points.
Killing your opponent in this day and age is frowned upon."
Kei laughed heartily at this observation and Chifune tittered politely as
she was expected to, her hand in front of her mouth.
She found the convention ridiculous, but it
was not considered polite for a well-brought-up young Japanese woman to give a
full belly laugh or to laugh with her mouth uncovered.
Kei was acting, Chifune thought, as if he
were some medieval
daimyo
or clan
lord in a good mood, posturing in front of his
samurai
.
Just as quickly, she recalled, the mood of such a man could swing the
other way to violence.
Of course, the
brutal reality was that he was indeed the modern version of a powerful
daimyo
, only his holdings spanned the
continents.
The wealth of a modern
keiretsu
would make a medieval
daimyo
pale.
Kei was not merely acting his role.
He was strong and influential.
This was the frightening truth.
"Namaka-
san
," said
Fitzduane.
"I am deeply honored by
your gift.
Now perhaps you would do me
the honor of opening the simple token I have brought for you.
It will not compare with your generosity, but
you may find it interesting."
If Kei had been excited while watching Fitzduane open his present, then
this time he was practically panting, although to a less well-trained eye than
Chifune's, his superficial physical demeanor did not betray him.
This was
and excess was frowned upon.
Nonetheless, his fingers worked a little too hard at the outer wrapping
and his eyes gleamed just a little too brightly.
The man acted as if it was Christmas.
It was curious, this mixture of childlike
vulnerability and brutality.
When the gleaming ax finally emerged, the blade double-headed and the
handle inlaid with fine gold wire, Kei Namaka gave a gasp of admiration and
then being unable to restrain
himself
any longer, gave
a shout and stood up, ax in hand, and whirled it about his head.
Kei, despite his handmade shirt and silk tie and Savile Row suit, did not
look in any way incongruous as he whirled the weapon.
On the contrary, he looked magnificent —
every inch the Eternal Warrior, in Chifune's opinion, or a spoiled child with
yet another lethal toy.
It depended on
your particular point of view.
"I heard, Namaka-
san
,"
said Fitzduane, "that you had an unsurpassed collection of edged weapons,
so I wanted to find something that you would not already possess.
Unfortunately,
that almost all our early medieval weaponry has been destroyed, but what you
have there is a precise reproduction of a thirteenth-century Irish fighting
ax.
It was a weapon used to great effect
against the Norman invader because it could cleave through armor."
Kei whirled the ax once again, then brought it back and laid it on its
leather carrying case on the table.
It
was then that he noticed the Namaka crest etched into the blade.
He looked up at
Fitzduane .
"You have gone to a great deal of trouble, Fitzduane-
san
," he said.
"My brother and I deeply appreciate this
gift.
We must now make arrangements for
you to visit the steel plant in which, through Yoshokawa-
san
, you have already expressed an interest.
It is an awesome sight to see the hardest steels
handled like putty.
Also, I have a
dojo
there and most of my weapons
collection.
I think you'll find it
fascinating."
Fumio found it hard to take his eyes off the ax.
Kei and this
gaijin
were getting along like old friends, and yet he could not
shake the feeling of dread that gripped him.
The weapon on the table reminded him forcibly of an executioner's
ax.
It was an ingenious gift, and
perfect for the effect it was intended to achieve, but the sight of it made
Fumio feel ill.
He tore his eyes away from the ax and looked across at Fitzduane and then
at Chifune.
The woman was every inch the
well-mannered interpreter, but there was something about her that gave him
pause.
"Fitzduane-
san
," said
Fumio, with a slight smile.
"We
greatly look forward to your visit to Namaka Steel, but you will now realize
that since we both speak English, you will not need an interpreter during your
visit.
Tanabu-
san
's service will not be required."
Fitzduane played it very well, thought Chifune.
He gave a dismissive gesture, as if to
indicate that his interpreter was of no consequence, and the conversation moved
on to other matters.
The Namakas had
taken the bait, but Chifune was now convinced they had every intention of
keeping it.
They had something in mind,
she was sure of it, but what?
As Kei Namaka and Fitzduane joked and chatted in the relaxed and easy
manner of old friends, united in their common interest in antique weapons,
Chifune started to worry.
*
*
*
*
*
That evening, Fitzduane had dinner with Chifune, an enjoyable if sexually
disturbing experience, and returned to the bows of the night porter near
midnight feeling pleasantly mellow but sexually aroused —
an
quaint combination.
He endeavored to balance things out under a cold shower, a traditional
remedy for such a conjunction, but his erection would not be subdued.
Chifune had that kind of effect.
Nothing explicit had either been said or
done, but the sexual electricity had become strong enough, he felt, to make
both of them glow in the dark like Russian sailors on the nuclear subs of the
Northern fleet.
It seemed a pity, he
reflected, that for the balance of the night they would have to glow apart.
Women were damn confusing.
There
was Etan, whom he loved but who did not want to settle down just when he
did.
There was Kathleen, of whom he was
becoming increasingly fond, who evidently did want to settle down, just when he
was beginning to think perhaps he didn't.
And there was Chifune, where the chemistry was just plain sexual and who
had Adachi-
san
hidden in the wings,
if he read the signs right.
He liked
Adachi, and anyway it really would not be a good idea to confuse business and
pleasure.
He needed, and was getting,
Adachi's cooperation, so sleeping with the superintendent's woman would not be
tactful.
Still, life was rarely about
being sensible.
Since the cold water did not seem to be having the desired effect, and he
saw no point in giving the Namakas the satisfaction of dying of hypothermia,
Fitzduane turned up the hot.
He was
endeavoring to have a pleasantly mindless soak when the phone rang.
Evidently, his mind was not fooled.
When he wrapped a towel around his waist,
there remained a noticeable protrusion.
"I'm asleep," said Fitzduane, "more or less.
The earth is round and
way from where you are and it's after midnight around here.
Nobody civilized calls that late."
"Well, ain't that nice," said Kilmara.
"That leaves me in the clear.
Listen, my good friend, this is a global
village these days, and the ether has been hyperactive since you visited with
Bergin.
Somebody wants to talk to you to
make sure you don't step into something you shouldn't.
‘There are things afoot we don't want to fuck
up,’ he says.
‘We need our friends,’ he
says."
"Who is
the somebody
?" said Fitzduane,
who already knew.
"Our friend, the unlovable Paul Schwanberg," said Kilmara.
"Head off to the New Otani tomorrow
after breakfast if you have nothing doing, and ask for him at reception.
He's got offices there.
Something called the Japan-World Research
Federation.
Well, it's better than Acme
Import-Export, but not much.
Anyway,
everyone knows who they are.
It's just
that it's more fun operating from a cover than out of the embassy, though they
do that too.
They have a proprietorial
feeling about
There is nothing like dropping a couple of
nuclear bombs on a country to start a special relationship."
