"Hi," Brian said happily. "I'm -"
"Brian Shimura," Nick interrupted. "I know. I've been sent here by the boss man to pick you up."
"Oh," Brian said, shaking his hand. "I knew someone was meeting me, but I thought you would have gotten here sooner."
"I'm always late," Nick said, not offended. "As my roommate, you'll have to get used to that."
Roommate? Brian thought with surprise. It hadn't occurred to him that he would have one - but then why should interning at Independent News Network be any different than college?
"Surf's up, Shimura," Nick said, breaking into his thoughts. "Let's go."
After grabbing some of Brian's luggage, Nick led him to the escalators. As they headed down two levels, Nick gave Brian his own unique orientation lecture.
"Do you speak Japanese?" Nick asked.
"Not very well yet," Brian replied sheepishly.
"Doesn't really matter," Nick told him. "The language in the newsroom is English. And we interns don't get to do much field work. But it's a shame you don't know the lingo better - there are places you can go that I can't."
"What do you mean?"
"Simple," Nick stated. "You look Japanese. I'm just a gaijin - a foreigner. People here in Japan would be more likely to trust you."
"I see," Brian said.
"How much money do you have?" Nick asked.
Brian was taken aback. "Well..."
"You'll need lots of it," Nick continued. "Tokyo ain't cheap. But the network provides a suite and three squares a day - American food, mostly - in the corporate cafeteria. That saves us some money."
Nick glanced down at his wristwatch. "We'll get back to headquarters too late to get dinner tonight, though. Hope you're not hungry!"
Nick continued to rattle on until Brian finally interrupted him. "Where are we going?" he asked.
"We're taking the train to downtown Tokyo," Nick informed him. "An INN van will meet us at Tokyo Station."
"Can't we just get a taxi?" Brian asked.
"My, we are spoiled," Nick replied.
"It's not that," Brian shot back. "It's just that I have all this luggage..."
"Which won't fit in an airport cab," Nick interrupted again. "And they surely aren't going to have enough room for your surfboard. Anyway, the trip downtown in a cab'll cost about three hundred U.S. dollars."
Brian's eyes widened in shock. "Three hundred bucks!"
"Still want that taxi?" Nick deadpanned. "I didn't think so," he said when Brian did not reply.
"So, are we taking a bullet train, a monorail, or what?" Brian asked, surrendering to Nick's obvious experience.
"Nah," Nick said, "just an ordinary train - the Narita Limited Express. Green Car! - that means first class. We'll be in the heart of Tokyo in under an hour."
* * *
By the time Brian reached Tokyo, his head was spinning. There was so much to learn, and his new roommate wasn't much help. Nick's rapid-fire delivery of detailed information only confused him. To slow down the pace of new data, Brian had tried to engage Nick in personal conversation.
"Time enough for that later, old chum," Nick had replied, before launching into another lecture about Tokyo architecture.
At Tokyo Station, a huge brick building with a giant, ultramodern department store at one end, Nick bundled Brian's suitcases onto a pushcart and led him to the exit. Outside, an INN van with a Japanese driver was waiting for them. In minutes, they had loaded the van and were negotiating Tokyo traffic.
"It's late, so rush hour is probably over. We'll take Expressway Number One, then switch to Two," Nick informed Brian. "In a little while we'll be in the Roppongi district - your home away from home for the next three months."
"I thought we were staying in Tokyo itself," Brian asked, momentarily confused.
"Roppongi is part of Tokyo, sort of like a suburb," Nick replied. "The city is divided into prefectures - there's Minato-ku, Meguro-ku, Setagaya-ku..."
Brian zoned out again. As Nick talked on, Brian stared out of the window at the sprawling, bustling, brightly lit city. He liked what he saw. Here he was, thousands of miles from his California home, in the land of his ancestors... in the city where his father had been born. But Tokyo wasn't anything like the city his father described. It was so much... more!
Along the way, Nick showed him some places of interest. "There's the Imperial Palace Gardens," he said, pointing to a beautifully manicured area of parkland and stone walls. A little while later, Brian spotted a huge orange-red steel framework structure that looked like a knockoff of the Eiffel Tower in Paris.
"That's Tokyo Tower," Nick told him. "It's huge. You can see it from our balcony."
As they drove through increasingly thick traffic, Nick pointed out embassies, nightspots, and shrines. Brian was impressed by Tokyo's size, and by its busy sidewalks. Every street, every alley was jammed with people.
"Is Tokyo like this all the time?" Brian asked, gesturing to the crowds.
"We're lucky," Nick said. "Roppongi is an exclusive area - foreign dignitaries, corporate heads, fashionable entertainers, politicians, they all flock here. It's one of Tokyo's centers for nightlife, and we get to live there rent-free. After we get you home, we'll change clothes and go clubbing!"
The van turned the corner and Nick pointed to a huge communications facility topped by antennas, satellite dishes, and microwave towers.
"There's TV Asahi - sometimes we tape there. INN headquarters is right up the street," Nick said. A minute later, as the van pulled up to the curb, Nick pointed again. "Here we are!" he announced.
Brian climbed out of the van and looked up at his new home. The Independent News Network Building was a twenty-story ultramodern glass-and-steel office building. But Brian soon realized that Nick was pointing to the structure next to it - an older building that looked like a small apartment complex, complete with tiny balconies.
"Your new home," Nick said, beaming.
Brian stepped out of the van as the driver began to unload the luggage. Soon he was joined by another man in a security guards uniform. Everyone grabbed a suitcase. Brian carried his surfboard under one arm.
"Come on," Nick said to Brian. "I'll carry you across the threshold."
Nick made Brian take his shoes off before he entered their rooms. "Japanese custom," he said. The suite consisted of two tiny bedrooms connected to an equally small living room. There was a glass door leading to a tiny balcony, too. As promised, Brian could see the lights of Tokyo Tower shimmering in the distance.
Nick showed Brian around. There wasn't much to see beyond the shared bathroom. They hauled Brian's stuff into his bedroom. It barely fit.
"Look, Brian," Nick said at last. "I gotta go check on a story I filed this morning. It shouldn't take too long. Rest up, shower and change, and we'll check out the nightlife."
Alone at last, Brian leaned his surfboard against one wall and plopped down on the bed. The long flight, the harrowing trip from the airport, and the ceaseless banter from his new roommate had taken their toll. Brian soon fell into a deep, fitful sleep.
* * *
"Hey, wake up!"
Brian covered his eyes with his hand. No use. He could shut out the light, but Nick Gordon's voice was just too insistent.
"Come on, Shimura!" Nick said, shaking him. "It's ten P.M. - the night is young!"
Brian groaned. He straightened up in the bed and opened his eyes. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. His straight, raven black hair was a mess. There were deep shadows under his eyes. He blinked.
He saw Nick's reflection in the mirror, too. "Jet lag, huh?" Nick asked sympathetically. Brian nodded.
"There's a cure for that," Nick continued. "And it isn't sleeping the night away!"
"Oh?" Brian asked. "Then what is the cure?"
"Good food and good friends. Off your meat and on your feet, soldier. It's party time!"
CHAPTER 3
A NIGHT ON THE TOWN
May 12, 1998, 10:45 P.M
.
Roppongi-dori Avenue
Tokyo, Japan
Nick and an awestruck Brian navigated the noisy, crowded streets of Roppongi. Brian was amazed at the sheer volume of street life. Even Los Angeles' famed Sunset Strip on a Saturday night lacked the kind of excitement and energy of this district of Tokyo. And it was only Tuesday!
As they walked, Nick chatted while Brian absorbed the exotic sights and sounds. Brian marveled at the sophistication of these Tokyoites. Almost everyone was sporting the most expensive designer clothes from the best European, American, and Japanese houses of fashion. Those who didn't were dressed in wild rock-and-roll regalia. Some sported T-shirts with weird words and phrases in English, Japanese, or French.
A few people were dressed more traditionally. Brian noticed several older women in black kimonos.
The neon lights were amazing. The Tokyo night was ablaze with brilliant colors. Crazy, busy signs in unreadable kana characters flickered and danced. Occasionally a word, phrase, or brand name written in English could be spotted.
Nick explained that Roppongi was the live- music center of Tokyo. As they walked he pointed out various discos and music clubs with exotic names. One club was called Deja vu, another Africa's. A club called the Lexington Queen was surrounded by rockers. The marquee proclaimed, METALLICA - LIVE!
"The hottest meeting spot around here is Amando," Nick told Brian. "We'll check it out later. Let's get something to eat first."
Brian nodded, still scanning the street. Once, when he was fourteen, Brian had visited New York City. But the bright lights of Broadway paled in comparison to the blinding multicolored neon of Roppongi.
Among the throngs that choked the streets, Brian noticed some Americans and Europeans. There were United States Navy and Marine Corps officers and enlisted men - some in dress uniforms, others in civilian clothes, but still recognizable because of their severe haircuts and erect, military posture.
"Why are there so many Westerners here?" Brian asked.
"It's because of the embassies! They're all over the district!" Nick was almost shouting so he could be heard over the blaring music. "And this is the hot spot for tourists, too!"
Nick turned a corner and led Brian down yet another garishly lit, but quieter, street. Brian recognized a familiar sign halfway down the block.
A few minutes later, Brian was sipping a drink with Nick in Tokyo's Hard Rock Cafe. The music was loud, and the place was very crowded. Nick and Brian stood against the wall while they waited for a table.
"Tomorrow you'll meet some of the guys," Nick told Brian. "You have an appointment to meet Boss Gaijin at noon, too."
"Boss Gaijin?" asked Brian.
"Everett P. Endicott the Third. 'Boss Gaijin' to the newsroom. He's -" Nick fell silent as three gorgeous young Japanese women in short skirts and perfect makeup slipped past them, leaving a trail of delightful perfume lingering behind.
Brian cleared his throat. "You were saying?" he said as the three women took seats at the bar and turned their backs to them. Nick, his eyes occasionally straying to the hot young ladies, continued.
"Endicott's the chief of the Tokyo news bureau," Nick said. "He's a dork, plain and simple."
"I gather you don't like him," Brian said.
"I don't think he likes me. I just had my fourth story in a month rejected tonight."
"I'm sorry," Brian said sympathetically.
"It was a good one, too. Two years ago, a Russian nuclear submarine sank off the coast of japan, in very deep water -"
"What was a Russian submarine doing there?" Brian interrupted.
"Well, the French were conducting nuclear tests in the South Pacific at the time. And the Chinese had war games, too. The sub was probably observing one or both events - but that ain't the point." Nick took a deep breath.
"The point is that there was a big splash a couple of weeks ago about the deep-sea retrieval research being done by Dr. Ishido in the area where the sub sank. The project is called Sea Base One -"
"Yeah, so?" Brian butted in.
"So Dr. Ishido and his team just packed up and sailed for home today - six months early, with absolutely no explanation. There's a total news blackout!"
"I don't get it," Brian confessed.
"I've been covering the Sea Base One story - as much as Endicott will let me cover it, anyway - and let me tell you, something funny is going on." Nick took a breath.
"Three days ago, they reported finding what they thought was the Russian sub's reactor core. Then came the news blackout. Now the whole team is sailing back to Japan - and the whole Sea Base One program is canceled, or postponed, or something!"
Nick looked at Brian. "I got the inside track on this story. Not even Max Hulse, INN's so-called science correspondent, knows what I know." Nick lowered his voice. "They found something," he said ominously.
"Like?" Brian asked eagerly.
"That I don't know," Nick admitted. "Maybe evidence that the sub was sunk by the Chinese or the French. Maybe radioactive damage of monumental proportions. I really don't know." Nick threw up his hands. Then his eyes narrowed, and he stared off into space.
"But I smell a story," he muttered. "And Everett P. Endicott took me off the assignment." There was bitterness in his voice.
Then he shook his head. "Ah, don't worry about it. We are young, we are free, let's have fun, dinner's on me..."
"It's all right!" They both sang the Supergrass tune in unison, then laughed. The three ladies glanced their way, but Brian and Nick were so busy laughing, they didn't notice.
After that, Nick passed on the latest newsroom gossip. There were new Chinese war games beginning off the coast of Taiwan. Threats of trade sanctions against Japan over an insurance industry dispute. And something else.
"Something big is up." Nick said mysteriously. "I can smell it. Some hot, breaking story is brewing. Something even bigger than Sea Base One."
Brian, whose field of vision had strayed during Nick's news update, tore his eyes away from the three Japanese women. "How do you know it's something big?" he asked.
Nick smiled knowingly. "Endicott was in the conference room with some bigwig field reporters. Nobody would talk to me, which is another sure sign something's up. They never tell us interns anything. We'll learn what's going on when the world does," he concluded.
Then he began telling Brian what kind of work he would be doing for the Independent News Network. This was Nick's second internship to Japan, so he was something of an expert, at least in his own mind.
"In the first month, you'll be doing boring stuff," Nick informed Brian. "The three Fs, mostly."
"The three Fs?" Brian asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Filing, fact-checking, and finance," Nick replied.
"The first two are obvious, but what's the 'finance' part?" Brian pressed.
"We process the real reporters' expense accounts," Nick answered sullenly.
"Oh, well," Brian sighed. "So much for the exciting life of a foreign correspondent."
"I hope you didn't go into journalism for excitement," Nick said.
"Not really," Brian answered honestly. "I was never much interested in that kind of excitement."
"Are you a current affairs junkie? Politics, stuff like that?" Nick continued. "You don't look the type."
"No way!" Brian laughed. "Actually, I want to be a sportscaster someday. Think about it. Super Bowl and World Series tickets for life!"
"I have a confession to make," Nick said solemnly. "I am a nerd. Sports never interested me much."
"Well," Brian continued, the disappointment evident in his voice, "my original internship was to cover the Winter Olympics in Nagano, but..."
"But they were held four months ago." Nick finished Brian's thought. "I've been to the Japanese Alps - they're really beautiful. Great skiing! " Nick paused. "It's too bad you missed it," he added.
"Yeah, well. I had to postpone my internship. There was... a family emergency," Brian replied. He didn't elaborate.
He didn't want to tell Nick the whole story just yet. Maybe I don't want to see another look of pity in a friend's eyes, Brian mused. In any case, now was not the time for "the whole story."
Nick's eyes drifted to the three Japanese women. They were drinking exotic cocktails and giggling among themselves.
"Well," he said, still gazing at the girls. "Since you missed the Olympics, why come to Japan now?"
"Gee, round-eyes... I Japanese-American," Brian teased.
Nick turned up his nose. "As a full-blooded WASP, I never went in for that hyphenated-American stuff. Enlighten me."
"Well," said Brian. "According to my dad, it was time for me to make that voyage of discovery. Find my roots, you know. My father was born here in Tokyo, and I have family here."
"Family... hmmm. Any cousins - female cousins?" Nick asked slyly.
Brian laughed. "Nah, only my Uncle Maxwell."
"Uncle Maxwell?" Nick replied. "That's an odd name for a Japanese man."
"He isn't Japanese," Brian said. "Uncle Maxwell is an officer in the U.S. Navy. He met my aunt - my dad's sister - when he was stationed here during the Korean War. They got married... my aunt died about five years ago, but Uncle Maxwell still lives in Japan. He's still in the Navy, too."
"Interesting." Nick said, his eyes straying to the Japanese girls at the bar. "So, you were saying, your dad wanted you to intern here?"
"He was a kid when he left Japan," Brian continued. "My dad met my mother in California, they got married, and he never came back. But he talked about Japan a lot when I was growing up. So when this second Japanese internship came down, I grabbed it."
"But you don't speak much Japanese," Nick observed.
"No," Brian confessed. "My mother wouldn't let us speak Japanese in the house. She said that was part of the Old World, a world she didn't want to go back to. My mom had a career, friends. She liked being an American. She was as American as apple pie, or so my dad used to say."
Maybe it was the noise, or the women across the bar, or by choice - but Nick didn't catch the past tense Brian used when he spoke of his mother.
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