Rules of the Hunt (57 page)
Sergeant Oga smiled.
"But
without that drainpipe, I do not think the superintendent-
san
would be alive."
18
June 27
Fitzduane and Yoshokawa were walking along the beach in
"I have news of Superintendent Adachi-
san
," said Yoshokawa.
"His father called just before we left.
The fever has broken and he has been released
from the hospital and is resting at his parents' home.
He hopes to be back at his desk again in
a
week
or so.
He is deeply appreciative of what you have
done."
"Adachi is a good man," said Fitzduane, "but the Hodama
affair is a cesspool of an investigation.
It must have been grim for him to be so betrayed.
Still, better to discover what is going on
than to leave it fester."
"Fitzduane-
san
," said
Yoshokawa, "you should know that Adachi-
san
feels under an obligation towards you.
It is difficult for him, because you will be
leaving soon and he does not know what to do,
nor
how
to express what he feels."
Fitzduane laughed.
"Between
you and me, and the gatepost, Yoshokawa-
san
,
it is a moot point as to who should be more obligated to whom.
If he, dizzy with fever, had not put a round
through Fujiwara as I was coming through the skylight, we wouldn't be enjoying
this sea air together and I could advise you from direct experience of the
afterlife which shrine to keep in your living room.
Hell, tell him to forget it."
Yoshokawa smiled, but then turned serious.
"Adachi-
san
is from an old and distinguished Japanese family," he
said, "and takes his obligations very seriously.
You must understand that he cannot and will
not forget.
It is not in his
nature.
It is not possible."
Fitzduane was imagining
medieval heyday when it was the capital of
He and Yoshokawa were nobles — well, who
would want to be a peasant in those days? —
at
the
military court.
They would be wearing
full
samurai
regalia as they walked
the beach enjoying the sea air.
Guards
and followers would be standing at a discreet distance, banners flying in the
breeze.
The two nobles would be
discussing strategy and tactics, preparing for the power struggle ahead.
"Yoshokawa-
san
," he
said.
"Nothing ever changes.
I was thinking of us as two
daimyo
from six centuries ago; and their
concerns would have been similar.
There
were
kuromaku
then as there are
kuromaku
now.
There was intrigue and betrayal
then,
and there is intrigue and betrayal now."
He looked across at his bodyguards in their
neat gray suits.
"But their
clothing would have been a lot more colorful."
"And the technology marginally less refined," said Yoshokawa,
"and since you are a
gaijin
,
we'd have chopped your head off."
Fitzduane laughed out loud.
"You're giving it a good try as it is," he said, "and
there is still time — I haven't left yet.
I have the Namakas to see again.
They are giving me that tour of their steel plant tomorrow, though I
doubt anything will come of it.
They
don't seem to be rising to the bait.
Being able to blame Kitano has given them room to maneuver.
It’s a pity, but that looks like an account
that will have to be settled some other time, because I have to get home.
I don't like being away from
long these days.
I miss Boots.
He is growing up so fast.
A month is a long time at that age."
Yoshokawa nodded.
"My group
is grateful for what you have done.
The
Namakas are still there, but some corruption has been exposed and we do, at least,
know who was behind the Hodama killings.
Modest progress, but progress all the same.
That is what is important.
We have always known that reforming our structures
will not be easy."
"Not easy is putting it mildly," said Fitzduane.
"The Namakas sail on and there is not a
scrap of evidence against Katsuda.
We
have displaced a few pawns, but the main players remain untouched."
"We shall see," said Yoshokawa.
"Personally, I am optimistic.
But I fear you, Fitzduane-
san
,
will return to
Fitzduane grinned.
"Relax,
Yoshokawa-
san
.
A handful of rotten apples haven't turned me
off the whole barrel.
No, if someone
were to ask me tomorrow about the Japanese, I'd say you are a hard people to
get to know, but well worth the effort.
People of caliber, guardians of some special qualities we can use on my
side of the world.
Sure, there are
changes you must make, but mostly you have reason to be proud."
Yoshokawa was deeply touched by Fitzduane's words.
Then Fitzduane spoke again.
"One of the best things about coming
here, Yoshokawa-
san
, is that I will
never think of ‘the Japanese’ again.
I'll think of individuals — you, your family, Adachi-
san
, the DSG, Sergeant Oga, the people
of our plant I met yesterday, so many others with all your special individual
qualities.
That's the way I think it
should be."
"And those like the Namakas and Yaibo who have tried to kill
you?" said Yoshokawa.
"It is neither here nor there that they are Japanese," said
Fitzduane.
"They are just people
that, in all our mutual interests, I hope we can consign on a one-way trip to
hell.
So far, I haven't been too
successful, but the game is not over."
"And what is this game called?" said Yoshokawa.
"This matter of
obligation?"
"Vengeance," said Fitzduane, with a grim smile.
*
*
*
*
*
June 27
Chifune sat at her desk at Koancho headquarters and again went through
the arrangements she had made.
The Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department had the primary job of both
running and protecting Fitzduane, but Koancho had its own interest and made its
own preparations.
When she had first
joined the security force, she had been taken aback at the service's reluctance
to share information, but as time had gone on she had seen the merits of this
approach.
Security issues tended to be very sensitive, and organizations such as
the police, whatever their merits, were far from leakproof.
Also, there were often advantages in having
parallel operations, the overt and the covert.
If the overt operation failed, the other was already in place, but set
up in such a way that it was complementary and unlikely to have the same
weaknesses.
And, of course, if the
secret operation ran into trouble, by definition nobody knew.
Sometimes, both operations were
unsuccessful.
Well, she had been taught
to accept a casualty rate.
That was the
reality of the dangerous world in which she operated.
Still, she found it hard to view the developments in the Hodama affair
with equanimity.
The assault on Adachi
had left her deeply shocked, all the more so because it was unexpected.
Senior police in
attacked.
Then there was the
gaijin
Fitzduane.
Despite her strong feelings
for Adachi, this was a man who, against all common sense and other loyalties,
her body, and maybe her heart, wanted.
One of these days she was going to have to make some decisions.
She was a modern woman, she hoped, but she
had some traditional needs.
She shook
her head, annoyed at this undermining of her will by biological instinct.
It was maddening.
Men were not so encumbered in this way, or,
at least, not so physically restricted.
Meanwhile, there was an operation to be run.
She worked her way through the file and
checked that they had covered every foreseeable contingency.
Her conclusion was depressing.
The
gaijin
had good basic security cover,
it was true, but if anything untoward happened, he was on his own.
Full cover made the operation
impossible.
The whole enterprise was
predicated on a degree of risk.
What might the Namakas do?
She dug
into the files and looked at their resources.
What did they like to do?
What
could they do?
Koancho's records were not restricted by police regulations and were
buoyed by extensive covert surveillance.
In addition to facts, they contained extensive analysis and speculation
— some low-key and some provocative.
She
listened to tapes, watched surveillance videos, and read on into the
night.
Brawn and brains — every avenue
led to the natures of the two brothers.
The specifics could not be forecast, but there were patterns of
behavior.
In the early hours of the morning, she began to develop a feeling about
the Namaka's next move.
She had also
worked out how the problem of Fitzduane's police surveillance might be
overcome.
Unfortunately, an appropriate
countermove was harder to define.
The
bottom line was a constant.
Fitzduane-
san
was vulnerable.
Whatever the pretense of security, he had to
be left vulnerable if the Namakas were to be enticed to make a move.
*
*
*
*
*
Fitzduane had dinner in his room at the
on his notes.
As he closed his eyes, he thought of his father and how much he had loved
him and how terribly he missed him.
John
Fitzduane had been killed in a skydiving accident when Fitzduane was
fifteen.
It still hurt Fitzduane when he
remembered.
Few Fitzduanes died in there beds.
Violent death was something of a Fitzduane tradition.
I don't want Boots to be alone, he thought.
I'm taking enough risks as it is.
He slept.
*
*
*
*
*
June 28
"Good morning, Sergeant-
san
,"
said Fitzduane cheerfully to Sergeant Oga.
After his late-night work, he had slept briefly but well.
He was going back to
couple of days and would see Boots and Kathleen very soon.
He missed them.
but
he must go
shopping first.
Boots had been
conditioned by a fond father to expect a present every time he returned, and
Kathleen deserved something special.
Fitzduane was feeling very domestic that morning.
The visit to Namaka Steel was not in the
forefront of his mind.
The sun was
shining for a change and the humidity was bearable, and he felt good.
And, the peculiarities of his visit aside, he
was enjoying the limited amount he was seeing of
point,
he was interested in the Japanese.
True, you needed a pickax and a miner's lamp
to break through the wall they put up, but inside there were rewards.
Sergeant Oga was a case in point.
Oga and the day shift bowed.
"Sergeant Oga," said Fitzduane, "I'm going to miss
you.
I'm getting used to spending every
day with four of Tokyo MPD's finest, and I just want you to know I appreciate
what you're doing.
But for you, I might
well not be alive.
Of course, I would
not know if I wasn't, but I'm grateful to you that I am."
