The Clout of Gen

by Ahmad Ardalan

  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 obs
ervation 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.”

  Once again, John mentioned the reason for his sudden visit. “Hitari is an old friend,” he lied, “and I’d like to meet with him to do some catching up, but I’m afraid I’ve lost track in all these years of where I might find him.” John felt that Mitsua was following every movement, observing and studying him well. It was in that odd moment of uncomfortable scrutiny that John remembered he wasn’t just talking to anyone; he was, in fact, talking to The Negotiator, a man who thrived on details.

  Mitsua didn’t talk too much, and when he did finally reply, it was only with a few words. “Mr. John, Mr. Hitari prefers to be left alone at this time. He is working on an extremely important project and doesn’t wish to be disturbed. I do promise, however, that I will tell him of your visit whenever I see him again, though I have no idea when that might be.”

  Unsatisfied with Mitsua’s vague answer, John continued to talk, trying to persuade him that it was a matter of urgency, a business matter dating back a few years, something that had to be discussed.

  It was easy to see that Mitsua knew from John’s first words that John wasn’t telling the truth. Mitsua sensed that everything John said was a lie, and he was 100 percent confident that the strange and nosy American had never met Hitari or had any business matter with him in the past. While he didn’t know exactly why John was there, he knew it was certainly not for catching up with a man he’d never met. Being the clever fox that he was, there was no way Mitsua would allow the conversation to go on any longer. He assumed John was likely an investigator or a journalist trying to get a story, and he was frustrated that John had wasted so much of his valuable time already. Again—and more sternly this time—Mitsua apologized and said he had to get ready for his next meeting, effectively dismissing John from his office merely by the tone of his voice.

  John left the office feeling bitter, but he did stop by to apologize to the receptionist for his rude and pushy behavior. She was, after all, only doing her job.

  The receptionist smiled pleasantly and accepted John’s humble apology. She looked side to side, as if to make sure no one was listening, and said, “Sir, you might be interested to know that Yuuka, Mr. Hitari’s daughter, is scheduled to give a speech tonight on breast cancer therapy at the Kyoto Convention Center. Maybe she can be of help.”

  John smiled and offered her a silent nod of gratitude for the helpful tidbit of information.

  The convention center was packed with journalists, doctors, donors, and several other interested visitors. John felt confident there. In fact, even in that foreign land, he felt at home, as he had covered many events over the span of his newspaper reporting career. He knew his background with the press would enable him to easily speak with Yuuka.

  After several speakers and doctors talked about breast cancer in general and the importance of early and continuous checkups, as well as new methods used for early detection and treatment, Yuuka was finally introduced as the keynote speaker. Her presence was felt right away. She was a lovely-looking lady in her thirties. She had long, silky hair, wide black eyes, and a heartfelt smile—beauty that everyone both adored and envied. Speaking with confidence, Yuuka reminded all that the fight against breast cancer was far from over and that awareness was still needed. She assured the crowd that her organization was working in every way possible to educate all families in Japan, as well as those in other parts of the world to the importance of the early detection. She also explained several treatments and drugs that her company was working on, and she mentioned the contribution she intended to make toward the cause.

  As he listened to her, John realized that everything he’d read about her was true; Yuuka was a real humanitarian. She had traveled to many places in the Far East, as well as Africa, to help people in need. More than half of the profits from her pharmaceutical companies was donated to the people in those impoverished regions. If all the rich and powerful in the world would follow Yuuka’s passion and giving trends, there would be no more economic crisis to worry anyone, John thought. He truly admired her, and he was sure that if her father was involved in any shady business, she certainly wasn’t part of it. He couldn’t wait to talk to her in person.

  Dinner was served in a separate hall, where John could mingle and socialize with other colleagues and discuss the event. He noticed Mitsua Oel at one of the tables and greeted him from distance. John felt the curiosity pouring from Mitsua Oel; the man clearly felt suspicious and clueless about John’s presence at the event.

  Yuuka, on the other hand, was busy checking in with each of her guests to make sure they were having a good time and learning a lot. She was even willing to grant interviews to the media, as she was very keen at using all avenues to get her important message out. When she was finally alone, John seized the opportunity. He went up to Yuuka and introduced himself. “John Teddy, journalist, from the USA,” he said. “I truly respect your work. You are such a mentor for others to follow.”

  As he spoke with her, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Mitsua staring menacingly at him. John had only met the man briefly, but he already hated h
im and thought of him as some kind of wolf in sheep’s clothing.

  John pulled Yuuka aside. Because he was in a hurry to get past Mitsua’s suspecting eye, he was in a hurry to get directly to the point. “I am here because I urgently need to meet with your father,” he told her. “I’ve traveled here from halfway around the world, and I can’t really wait any longer. Time is running short before I have to go back.”

  Yuuka politely inquired about his reasons for wanting to meet her father, trying to determine if she could help him out.

  John replied, “Well, it’s somewhat of a complicated story, but I assure you that Mr. Hitari will be delighted to meet me. Rest assured I only have questions and mean him no harm.”

  She was still a bit reluctant to reveal her father’s location and told John that her father was feeling a bit sick. Nevertheless, she offered to be of any assistance she could.

  John insisted that only her father could be of help, and in an even a louder, more insistent tone, he told her it was a matter of life or death. “This could save lives,” he said. Or at least mine, he thought to himself.

  Yuuka felt the urgency in John’s eyes and was finally convinced. She told the American that she was going to visit her dad later that night after the convention was over and assured him she would tell Hitari that a John Teddy needed to speak to him.