‘OK, I promise not to leave without you.’
‘I will be back at one thirty.’
Akira jumped out of the cab and walked quickly up the pristine alleyway. Freshly watered bowls of flowers hung from braces, and window boxes were filled with multicoloured pansies. The alleyway was a tidy confusion of personal things carefully left out. He stepped up to his parents’ door and let himself in. ‘It’s me, Akira,’ he called.
‘Son,’ called his father, ‘I’m here.’ He was standing up. ‘I have tried to reach you for days. I was worried.’
Akira hugged him, something he had not done since he was a small child. ‘Where is Mother?’
‘Visiting her sisters.’
Akira took a step back. ‘Father, I have a favour to ask and a great burden for you to bear.’
‘What is it?’
Akira took the necklace from his pocket. ‘This is Yasakani no Magatama. It has been lost for several hundred years but I have recovered it.’ He passed it to his father.
The old man looked down at the necklace, glowing green and gold in his hand. It felt hot in his palm like a bowl of miso soup. ‘What must I do?’ he said.
‘You must return it to the Emperor and only to him. If it is known you have it, you will most likely be killed. You must take it immediately.’
‘Son, you bring glory to your family and to your father.’
Akira bowed. ‘I must leave immediately, Father.’
His father bowed. As he stood up he felt as if his bent back had straightened a little. He saw his son clearly. ‘Goodbye, Akira.’
Jim was flat-lining Kimcorp’s stock, holding it in a range limit to the upside. Every time the stock rose and hit a certain price he sold it on at that price. The share hit this ceiling, and fell back.
Pretty soon the buyers would give up hope and sell out, and he would buy the shares back on the fall. He could sense traders coming and going, throwing their money at the stock in the hope that it had hit its bottom. He could tell by the size and speed of the orders how much they had to play with and he could swat them like flies.
Kimcorp had been worth five billion dollars when his campaign had started and it was now worth eight hundred million. For all the bucking of the market, he was only losing fifty million dollars and hardly short of Kimcorp stock at all. If he had been playing the game for money he would have given the stock one last terrifying downdraught and filled his boots with it on the final ‘puke’ as major shareholders baled out in a last panic. Then he would have left the stock alone and it would have risen again to its correct price, netting him a very fat profit indeed. But this wasn’t for money: he would blow all his billions if that would get Jane out. The trading was just a means to an end.
‘Hey, Major, put this on.’ Something clumped onto the desk. It was a pistol holster.
Jim looked up to see Danny beside him. ‘You look good in a five-thousand-dollar suit,’ he said.
‘No way, man,’ said Danny. ‘This is a five-hundred-dollar suit – I just look like five thousand in it.’
Jim struggled with the holster, trying to keep his eye on the charts. Danny adjusted it roughly on his shoulder and pulled the strap up to tighten it.
‘Got to get my trading bots all lined up while we’re gone. As soon as I take my boot off this wanker’s neck, his stock price is going to pop up.’ He glanced at the holster under his arm. It looked flash.
‘Time to go,’ said Casey, walking in carrying a briefcase.
Jim stood. ‘Let’s rock.’
Danny grinned knowingly at Casey. ‘Don’t forget your attaché case.’
Jim picked it up. ‘Don’t expect me to use this shit properly,’ he said.
‘Just don’t bleed on us if we have to carry you out.’
‘It’s blue blood, mate,’ said Jim. ‘You won’t notice it on your jackets.’
Kim had sat and watched the meeting. He had not been called upon to say anything. His minions had done the talking and the banks the listening. Toyoda presented well. He had all the figures to hand and in his head, and when he was questioned, he could slice and dice them all ways, so that however they rebuilt the numbers, they totalled up correctly and agreed.
The figures were, however, all lies, accounting fictions like intangibles, amortisations, depreciations and accruals making a mockery of the real picture. He was almost out of cash to pay the bills and they would lend him more cash to pay them the very interest he was about to be unable to afford. They did this on the basis of numbers that had no meaning in the real world and no connection with cash. It would be funny if it were not so vital.
If he gave his finance director all of his company’s intangible assets, Toyoda could no more buy a bowl of rice than a homeless man living in a cardboard box by Tokyo station. Yet Kimcorp would borrow hundreds of millions against those empty assets. Without the lies of legitimate accountancy, his business would not have been built, but without the lies of illegitimate accountancy, it would not be standing.
Toyoda was so accomplished, he reflected. Could he be the traitor in his midst? He listened to the accountant bat back the questions from the banks. With Kim gone, Toyoda would surely be the boss of Kimcorp. Could Kim operate without him as CFO? He would think carefully about Toyoda. Once the situation had stabilised he would have a better idea of who the traitor was.
59
The old man marched swiftly up the ramp to the palace gatehouse. The immaculate guard stepped out of his cubicle. ‘How can I help you, sir?’ he said, addressing the distinguished gentleman in his grey raincoat.
‘I am Captain Nakabashi of the Imperial Bodyguard, retired. I have an urgent matter for the head of the household.’
‘Do you have an appointment, sir?’
‘No,’ said Nakabashi, offering him his papers, ‘I do not, but it is an emergency of the highest importance.’
The guard looked at the documents. Sure enough, they were those of an Imperial bodyguard retired ten years before. ‘I will call my captain to advise,’ he said.
‘Very good,’ said Nakabashi. He put his hand inside his outer suit pocket. The necklace seemed to absorb his body heat and reflect it back to him. His whole side felt warmed by it. Perhaps it was the magic of legend.
A captain was trotting down the slope towards them. He was bowing. ‘Captain Nakabashi, it is an honour,’ he said. ‘How may I help you?’
‘I must see the head of the household as I must have audience with the Emperor. It is of national importance.’
‘This way, sir,’ said the captain. ‘I am already ordered to admit you.’
‘Very good,’ said the old man, bowing with the seniority of age. He felt a wave of relief sweep over him. He might just be able to achieve the impossible and deliver the treasure to the Emperor.
He walked quickly through the halls he had known so well. They had been newly built when he had first worked there and remained seemingly unchanged since he had departed a decade ago. He walked flanked by the Imperial guard to Private Audience Room Four.
Two guards were standing behind the Emperor and his detail of two men stood close by. Two advisers Nakabashi did not recognise flanked him on either side.
Nakabashi bowed as low as he could. ‘Your Imperial Majesty, I must speak with you alone.’
The Emperor nodded and the room emptied.
The door clicked closed. ‘Yoshi,’ said the Emperor, beaming now. ‘It has been so long. How are you, old friend?’
‘I am very well, Your Imperial Majesty. I have come to return the Yasakani no Magatama to you.’ He put his right hand into his jacket pocket and lifted out the necklace. He took a step forwards and bowed, offering the jewel to the Emperor in his cupped hands.
The Emperor stepped forward and took it, a wide smile crossing his face. ‘So your son is winning the day.’
Captain Nakabashi stood up. ‘I fear he is in great peril.’
The Emperor nodded gravely. ‘So are we all.’ He put on the necklace. ‘At leas
t now I can say I am truly crowned. That much danger is now passed.’ He clapped his hands and the doors opened. ‘Let us take tea together, for this is surely a moment for celebration.’
The guards’ and the advisers’ eyes were wide with amazement. The Emperor was wearing the Yasakani no Magatama, a treasure no one other than priests had seen for more than half a millennium. It glowed like wet seaweed.
Danny looked at Akira and at Jim. ‘Are we really taking Yoda with us?’
‘Yes,’ said Jim, ‘unless you can suddenly speak Japanese and just happen to be carrying permission to blow up Tokyo.’
‘OK,’ said Danny, grinning manically.
Yamamoto was pushing something into Akira’s hand. It was an old pistol. ‘Take this, kid. It won’t let you down if you need it.’
Akira passed it to his short arm and tried it for size. ‘Thank you.’ He smiled. ‘I remember this,’ he said, gripping the rubber handle of the snub revolver. ‘It used to be much bigger.’
‘Let’s go, guys,’ said Reece.
Two black Toyota Crowns were waiting in the office block driveway, three storeys underground. Jim got in with Reece. They slammed the limo doors.
‘Hey there,’ said Reece, ‘do you mind if I smoke?’
The driver looked around worriedly. ‘No Engrish, no Engrish,’ he said apologetically.
‘Good,’ said Reece, not apparently about to smoke. ‘We can probably talk. What the hell was in that gold box we found?’ he asked, as the car pulled away towards a ramp heading up to the road above.
‘The Japanese Crown Jewels.’
‘Oh,’ said Reece. ‘Is that right?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘And that’s what this is all about?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Jim.
‘That’s kind of crazy.’
‘You can say that again.’
‘And the Colonel is your girlfriend, right?’
‘Right.’
‘That’s what Danny thought. He’s kind of disappointed.’
‘He’s brighter than he looks,’ said Jim.
‘And where does Godzilla come into the picture?’
‘Do you mean literally or do you mean Kim?’
‘No, it was kind of a joke.’
‘Got it,’ said Jim, with a sinking feeling in his gut. They emerged into the bright Tokyo sunlight. ‘I hate this bit.’
‘You mean the going into action?’ said Reece.
‘That’s the one.’
‘It’s not as bad as getting hit,’ said Reece.
‘I’m not sure,’ said Jim. ‘I can’t remember those bits clearly.’
‘You’ve been hit before?’
Jim pulled the hair on the crown of his head to one side. ‘That was just a week or so ago.’
Reece could see a thin red scar. ‘It’s healed pretty well.’
Jim nodded. ‘How about you?’
‘Not once,’ said Reece. ‘All I get is abrasions.’
‘That must be skill,’ said Jim.
‘I’d hope so,’ said Reece. ‘I like to think that, but you kind of know it’s luck.’
‘Luck is good.’
‘I got a question for you.’
‘OK.’
‘How do investment bankers act? I want to walk in there and look credible.’
‘That’s easy,’ said Jim. ‘Just swagger in like you think you’re some death dealing Navy SEAL killing machine in an expensive suit. That’s pretty much average investment banker behaviour. If you can come across like an obnoxious jerk at the same time, you’ll be completely credible.’
‘I can do that.’ He grinned.
‘I hope you didn’t mind me calling you Yoda,’ said Danny, now remorseful for dissing the professor.
‘No,’ said Akira. ‘I took it as a compliment.’
‘That’s good,’ said Danny, ‘because it was meant to be one.’
‘I think it was meant as an insult,’ said Akira, ‘but I chose to take it as a compliment.’
‘Right,’ said Danny. ‘I’m sorry about that and I hope we’re cool, Professor. Are we?’
Akira scanned him with his inscrutable gaze. ‘We are cool,’ he said finally, a smile flickering across his face.
Brandon watched central Tokyo pass his window. A lot of the adverts had American stars promoting booze, cigarettes and mobile phones. They were photographed in such a way it was hard to recognise them. In some cases their eyes appeared to have been touched up and made to look Japanese. ‘My urban warfare skills are pretty shaky,’ he said finally to Casey.
‘Mine too,’ said Casey. ‘This is going to be real sketchy.’
60
Jim felt like a terrorist. They entered the office building armed to the teeth, surrounded by innocent unarmed people utterly unprepared for what might happen. They were passing through their normal world set on a course that would probably erupt into extreme violence. Keep walking, he said silently to the people who passed him. Don’t look back.
Reece, Brandon, Danny and Casey did look like investment bankers. The sort who went running at five a.m. for an hour before getting to work at seven. Unlike the boozy often corpulent British bankers, there was always a cadre of young American bankers who used their looks and arrogance to navigate around the world of finance. To the casual eye the SEALs perfectly fitted the mould. Only their faces gave them away. Their features hinted at a level of fitness even the most diehard gym patron could never attain. Only people constantly on the move had hard, muscled faces like theirs.
If Jim’s heart hadn’t been pounding so hard he would have laughed. He could have taken the SEAL team to any investment bank and walked them into million dollar jobs: they were perfect.
Kim had never dealt with an American bank before. He had avoided it. They had a bad reputation. They relied on contracts and pulling tricks. They were paid too much to be easily swayed by favours, like women and booze. They thought that because you did not say no you had said yes. They thought a deal could be done by flying in, making a couple of presentations and emailing over a contract. He wanted nothing to do with such business practices. He relied on the Japanese system of relationships built over years, unwritten and unspoken deals made over dinner, whisky and cigarettes. That was a long, subtle game he was good at, and at which he won. Business was war for the Americans and they never respected an ally, let alone an enemy.
Now he had no choice.
He didn’t like the look of the room. The bankers looked like nightclub bouncers and the junior American seemed angry. The translator didn’t feel right either. His shrivelled arm repulsed Kim – it made him feel queasy.
‘So, gentlemen, down to business. How can you help me?’
Reece had taken the senior spot and knew it was his role to speak. ‘Well, to kick off, I’d like to bring in my analyst here to give us an overview of the situation. Go ahead, Jimmy.’
Jim’s nose flared. His lips pursed and drew back into a rictus smile. ‘Thank you, Reece,’ he said, his British accent surprising Kim. ‘The situation is this.’ He pulled his pistol. He didn’t raise his voice: ‘You’ve got my girl upstairs in your fucking zoo.’ Kim rocked back in his chair and held his hands up. ‘And you’re taking us up there right now or I’m going to blow your fucking brains out.’
‘Very good,’ said Reece, grinning. He grabbed Kim’s shoulder, his other hand on his briefcase of weaponry. ‘Let’s go.’
‘No tricks,’ said Brandon, quietly, in Kim’s ear, ‘or I’ll snap your neck.’
Kim said nothing. He had turned the stone on his cufflink and was now regretting it. ‘There is no woman in my zoo,’ he said, resetting the stone and switching off the alarm: if his guards intervened now, he would be shot. ‘Who do you think I am?’
‘Just do as you’re told,’ said Jim, ‘and you might get out of this alive.’
Kim could see they knew where they were going. ‘Open the lift, please,’ said Casey, looking at Kim as though a negative response would mean
instant death.
Kim placed a cufflink over the call panel, which lit up. In a moment there was a ding and the door opened. His secretaries watched them enter the lift, bowing. There was only one floor on the panel and Kim pressed the button, then swiped his cuff over the control. The doors closed and the lift rose.
Down in the control room they watched the screens. Kim had set the alarm, then switched it off. They didn’t know what to do. Wherever he went the cameras were strangely blurred and the scene was hard to decipher.
Kim fingered the cufflink. He would set the alarm as soon as the Americans started to leave. His men would intercept them at the lift on his office suite floor and he would have a chance to escape. Before then, he might convince them they had made a big mistake. Thank the gods the woman was gone.
The lift doors opened.
‘Wow,’ said Danny, trying not to gawp at the zoo.
‘This way,’ said Jim, looking down the aisle.
‘You have made a mistake,’ pleaded Kim. ‘Why would you think I keep anything but animals here?’
The animals were making a spectacular din.
Brandon’s attention was on the gorilla standing by the bars, staring soulfully at him.
‘Right there,’ said Jim. But the cage was empty. ‘Oh, shit. She’s gone.’
‘Not gone,’ said Kim. ‘Never here.’
‘Where have you taken her?’ Jim pulled the gun from his pocket and pressed it against Kim’s forehead. ‘Tell me or you have seconds to live.’
In desperation Kim rotated the stone in the cufflink.
The cameras came on in the zoo. Through the distortion the operators could make out that something bad was happening. They hit the security alarm.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ cried Kim. ‘I don’t know who you are talking about. I don’t know where your girlfriend is.’ He was sobbing.
‘I’m here,’ came a muffled voice. Jim looked into the cage – the voice was coming from the far corner.
Kim made a lunge for Jim’s pistol but Danny socked him in the side of the head and knocked him to the ground. ‘Stay there,’ he ordered Kim.
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