The Clout of Gen (5 page)

Once he was inside, a nice-looking gentleman welcomed him and asked about his visit. John replied that he was just passing by when the beauty of the place caught his eye and lured him in. It was a two-story house spanning over 1,500 meters. The gentleman politely offered him a tour of the premises; he started with the gardens in the back, where there was a small pond surrounded by an outdoor seating area. At the far end was a recreation spot equipped with a ping-pong table and several chess-boards tables.

Then the guide took John inside, where he led him first to the dining room. In it were around fourteen tables, each draped with lavish red and gold cloths and set with elegant porcelain dishes. Each table had, for its centerpiece, a silver candle holder in the middle. It was a truly elegant, immaculate setting where diners could enjoy a meal and pleasant conversation. Next, they moved on to the living area, where there was a good supply of computers, TV screens, and newspapers. He then took John into the library, which was arranged in a beautiful matter with brown leather coach chairs. Several men were sitting around with their noses buried in books. They were surprised to see a stranger roaming around, but they offered John a round of polite nods.

If John were merely a tourist, the guided tour of the place would have been heaven on Earth, but that wasn’t John’s goal for being there. Little did he know that what lay upstairs was his true stairway to heaven.

Slowly, following the footsteps of his guide, John entered a room full of pictures and frames. “These tell the history of our humble place, dating back to 1887. All our members and pioneers over the years are represented here. They are the ones who have provided guidance for the work we do today. This little memorial is the least we can do to honor the people who got us here,” the gentleman told. John.

John offered him a kind smile for a reply, then began to carefully inspect each photo, trying to find some kind of clue or a glimpse of hope. The guide was kind enough to explain where and when the photos were taken and who each person was. John passed by the older photos quickly, but he paid careful attention to the newer photos. Suddenly, he stopped and began laughing wildly, like a madman.
There he is, right here among these pictures. Yaturo, you devil! There you are! I’ve finally found you!
John thought.

The young man asked, “What’s so amusing?”

“Nothing, but the place I come from should learn how to cherish their pioneers like you do,” John replied back. “Who is this man in the middle?” he asked the knowledgeable man.

“That is Mr. Hitari,” the young man replied, “Mr. Y. Sung Hitari. He was just here two weeks ago,” he added.

Ah Mr. Y., I found you at last! At last!
John repeated in his mind over and over again. At last some light washed into the dark tunnel. It was as if he’d opened a passage that would lead to answers. He had several things to finish, but then he would focus solely on Mr. Y.

He called his son and talked for a quarter-hour. He had missed Adam very much. Everything was okay. Adam loved being at his grandparents’ place, and, to be honest, John thought of them as good people in spite of their daughter. Adam asked his dad several times when he would be back, to which John replied, “Next week, son.”

He knew calling his boss on a Sunday wasn’t the smartest of ideas, but with the time difference and his focus on Yaturo, he had no other choice. His boss was quite upset at his announcement that he would be unable to return to work for another week, but he knew John’s vacation was long overdue. Besides that, John hadn’t been indispensable for a long time. His work had been mediocre at best for the last few years, and John’s assistant had been performing well, so his boss gave him approval for the additional time off.

Once John was finished making all the necessary calls, it was time to get to work. He found it quite amusing that Mr. Hitari seemed to be everywhere on the Web, right under his nose since he didn’t know to look for him under that name. The man was a well-known figure in Japan—the whole world, in fact—and there were several archived news reports about him. Strangely, though, he’d been relatively quiet for the past decade, but before that, he was nearly a household name, at least in certain households.

Yaturo Hitari, or Y. Hitari, as he was more commonly known, was born in 1939 to Sung Hitari, a wealthy businessman from Kyoto. Sung’s main business was in manufacturing electronic components, and he was one of the pioneers in the industry. Hitari electronic businesses had a steady market hold in that sector of Kyoto until recently. It seemed to John that Yaturo was, in fact, born with the proverbial golden spoon in his mouth, blessed with wealth and a fine education.

Perhaps the most striking thing about Yaturo was his deep passion for science. He had a PhD in physics and a master’s degree in both mathematics and English literature. He kept very busy, even in his college years, when he was a prominent speaker on several political issues. He believed in sharing power and working together with his enemies rather than fighting them. He was also quite an athlete, as he held a black belt in jiu-jitsu, a Japanese martial art. He was also a regional province tennis champion during his very active college years.

Yaturo was able to grow his family business into an empire over time. In the early seventies, he played only administrative roles in his father’s business, but by the time his father passed away in 1975, he was the key decision-maker. While there were no estimations of his current wealth, it was said that at one time, he was worth somewhere around sixteen billion dollars. He operated businesses ranging from electronics to steel, oil to pharmaceuticals, and he was also a giant in media.

In spite of his many achievements and accomplishments in several fields, Yaturo had never held any political office, and, contrary to his actions in college, he seemed to distance himself from politics altogether. He was asked many times by the media whether he might someday consider working in a government position, but his answer was always the same: “Business interferes with politics. Let me handle business, and let them deal with politics.” John found this somewhat odd.

Yaturo married his college sweetheart in 1972. They had two children together, a son named Akio and a daughter named Yuuka. Akio, his oldest, grew up to become an artist; he had died nine years prior in an automobile accident, apparently drunk driving, from what John could gather from the reports. Akio never got along with his father. He was a spoiled child and lived life according to his own rules; he didn’t give a damn about his parents or anyone other than himself. Yaturo’s wife died giving birth to Yuuka, and Yaturo never remarried after that. John found several pictures of Yaturo’s daughter, who seemed to have grown into a charming, interesting woman. She held several roles within her father’s organization, mainly in the pharmaceutical sector. She also operated several charity centers and served as the vice president and speaker for the Women’s Breast Cancer Awareness Institute in Japan. Quite the opposite of her self-centered brother, Yuuka seemed to be the type who aimed to make her father proud.

Yaturo hadn’t made any public appearance for the media in Japan for more than ten years. His advisors and daughter ran his companies, and the only places he had been seen were in his favorite restaurants and at the University of Kyoto, where he’d presented a series of lectures to students. He’d also been spotted at the Society Club, of course, where John had found his photo. “Hmm. There must be a reason behind this intentional isolation,” John mumbled to himself, looking over the reports. “Maybe his son’s death spun him into a depression, but it seems he disappeared from the scene long before that.”

As he perused the history of Yaturo’s life, John noticed dramatic changes in the man’s personality. He went from being an outspoken political speaker to not wanting to discuss politics at all; from a person who’d changed the face of economy in many sectors to a person who left all the decision-making to others in his stead. It spawned a lot of questions in John’s naturally inquisitive mind.
What is or was this man involved in? What control does he really have, if any?
The unanswered questions only made him more excited to meet Yaturo face to face.

He decided he would visit the Hitari Group office the very next day. There, he would request an appointment with the old man. He had so many questions, and he was sure he’d think of more by morning. The man was a mystery, an enigma, and most of all, John wanted to know how he’d somehow predicted the tsunami and Twin Towers disasters way back in 1986.
Where could he have gotten such a premonition? Could it be that he was somehow part of it? Is Yaturo the true mastermind behind such Earth-shattering events?
John’s adrenaline was pumping, and even though it was the middle of the night, he couldn’t manage to keep his eyes closed. He was suddenly glad he’d brought his running shoes; he had some time and energy to kill, and he thought a moonlight jog in would do the trick.

The Hitari Group building was located in the Shijo-Kawaramachi District, in the center of Kyoto, near the business and shopping areas. It was a beautiful architectural design, boasting around thirty floors with floor-to-ceiling windows. John had seen pictures of the place, but taking it all in with his own eyes was something else entirely. His cover-up story for the visit was carefully planned during his midnight jog; he would tell the receptionist that he was an old friend of Yaturo’s, visiting from New York, and that he hadn’t seen the old man for nearly five years and  wanted to catch up. He hoped Yaturo would be in his office so that he could confront him or at least get his attention.

After entering the building, John went through a normal routine security checkup; he had to sign in and present his identification to security personnel before boarding the elevators. On the sign-in sheet, he wrote that he wanted to visit the administration area on personal business.

Once he made his way onto the elevator, he pressed the button for the twenty-fifth floor. The view was breathtaking, a panoramic observation of all Kyoto and the Kamo River could be taken from many angles. There was a small fountain just in front of the reception area on the administration floor, and the waiting area was furnished with comfortable beige leather chairs for visitors. The walls were decorated with a variety of paintings, and John simply had to stop and admire their fine art; no doubt they were masterpieces.

John introduced himself to the receptionist and asked if he could meet Mr. Hitari. The question was met with a strange look, as if it was out of the ordinary or inappropriate. He was quickly told, “Mr. Hitari doesn’t come here anymore. I’m sorry.” John tried to gather some information about where he might be able to find Mr. Hitari or how he could reach him by phone because he was an old friend, but the receptionist answered robotically, “I am sorry, but I am not authorized to give out such information.” The conversation became a bit heated when stubborn John kept pushing, demanding information, but the woman continued to apologize and gave him no details.

In the middle of the whole quarrel, which was becoming a bit loud, a well-dressed gentleman in his late sixties entered. Clearly, he had been listening for a few seconds, and as soon as the receptionist saw him, she went silent. The gentleman said, “Take a seat, sir.” Then, he took out a business card and handed it to John. “I am Mitsua Oel, VP of Hitari Holdings. If you will give me ten minutes to settle in, I will be happy to meet with you.”

Giving the lady a victorious and satisfied look, John sat down in one of the beige chairs. As soon as his body made contact with the cozy seat, his admiration for the fine leather grew even more.

Mitsua Oel was a short, skinny man with soft white hair. His big brown glasses didn’t manage to hide his prudent eyes. He had thick eyebrows and a sleek smile. Based on his looks alone, John surmised that there was no way anyone would feel at ease in his presence.

Nevertheless, John was always prepared. The day before, he had read quite a bit about the company, including bios of its board members and decision-makers. Mitsua Oel was at the top of the totem pole, and he had been working with Hitari for over thirty years. He was originally from Tokyo, and he carried a PhD in economics from Tokyo University. He had an eye for details and a gift for finishing deals. In fact, he was so successful at his job that he was known as “The Negotiator” by most at Hitari and those in his industry. He was able to strike seemingly impossible deals in record times.

Sitting in his chair, Mr. Oel welcomed John. His office was spacious, with a meeting table for eight in one corner and a small coffee table in another. On his large wooden desk was a picture of him with a woman, whom John presumed to be the man’s wife.

John thanked Mitsua for his courtesy and for the valuable time.

“Well, I am a very busy man,” Mitsua said, “so I do have to apologize that our time will be short. I have another meeting scheduled in twenty minutes, but I will help you if I can with whatever it is that you need.”