The Samurai Strategy

by Thomas Hoover

  CHAPTER TEN

  It was almost dark when they reached the spa, one of those vastJapanese resort hotels catering to the middle class. It had a fake-traditional exterior and hundreds of rooms inside, as though the Templeof the Golden Pavilion had somehow been hollowed out and enlarged toencompass a health club. Strangely, though, it had been completelycleared, guests sent on their way; it was totally, absolutely empty.The parking lot was cordoned off, and gardeners were busily clippingand manicuring the grounds. Tam was impressed. Dai Nippon must haveplenty of clout, she told herself, to be able to commandeer an entirehotel.

  The manager came out to meet Noda, deferentially bowing and sucking inhis breath, after which their few bags were summarily swept away. WhenNoda returned he said nothing, merely smiled and suggested they allretire to the big public baths on the lower level. Since the hotel wasa vacation retreat, the basement was almost entirely devoted to the oneuniversal love of the Japanese public--scalding water.

  Down they went through the concrete hallways, attendants and staffbobbing. The sauna-like baths, like the hotel, seemed to be theirsalone. While Noda and Ken retired to the men's section down thecorridor, Tam and Mori entered the women's side, a cavernous tile-floored room with a steaming pool at one end. Local women in whitehead-kerchiefs immediately appeared and began to fuss over theirguests, scrubbing and rinsing them while praising the famous Noda-sama.Then, as Mori's towel dropped away, Tam looked her over.

  Good figure. She had always believed that, judged by Western standards,Japanese women tended to be somewhat flat-chested and to have shortishcalves, characteristics the high-waisted kimono was well designed todisguise--which also explained why a Western woman wearing one couldeasily look like a buxom stork. Mori, however, had a lithe, well-proportioned shape, and her breasts were positively generous.

  The intimacy of the bath didn't noticeably humanize her however. Whilethey soaked and steamed, she volunteered nothing beyond a few routinepleasantries. No more tirades about Yamatoism and American treachery,but no informal talk either. After a polite interval Tam excusedherself to go upstairs to her room and freshen up for dinner. Mori'sagenda clearly differed from Noda's; this woman, she concluded, had agame plan all her own. But what?

  Not long afterward she heard Ken tapping lightly on the door. Just asshe'd hoped. After the hot, steamy bath, he couldn't have been morewelcome. In fact she took one look at him, pristine and elegant in hisblue silk _yukata_, and briefly considered undressing him right therein the doorway--with her teeth.

  He was a wonderful lover, by turns gentle and forceful, as though theirbeing together was some exquisite ceremony. Their lovemaking always hada particularly Japanese quality, a heightened appreciation of theerotic, derived no doubt from a tradition that values subtlety andsensual satisfaction. Afterward they shared a brief soak in the littleredwood tub there in her room, then he headed down the hall to change.

  Well, she told herself, coming down to Ise has been well worth thetrip. Matsuo Noda is definitely eccentric, but all the same he's aRenaissance man by any gauge. Still, why did he want to meet me? Justto tell me ancient fables? No, that's some kind of prelude. The realtheme is yet to be announced.

  As she started putting her hair up in some quick curlers to try andrecover from the steam, she pushed aside her misgivings. Although sheonly had the suit she'd worn down, intended for business, she decidedit didn't matter. Surely tonight would be informal.

  She was just finishing up with her hair when she heard a franticpounding on the door. Very un-Japanese. Puzzling, she cracked it open.

  Ken was standing there, no slippers, still in his _yukata_, which hehadn't bothered to tie, all the color gone from his face. Behind himwere two uniformed hotel maids, bearing what was surely the mostgorgeous kimono she had ever seen, heavy silk with a hand-paintedlandscape, edged in gold brocade.

  "Tamara, I had no idea, honestly. Noda-sama only found out when we gothere, and he couldn't say anything. It was all top secret, heavysecurity. They only just arrived a few minutes ago, and he's asked Nodato dine with him." He paused for breath. "We're invited too."

  "Who's just arrived?"

  Asano was so nonplussed he didn't hear her. "Apparently he wanted toreview the site plans personally, tomorrow, to see where the museumwill be. I hear the Imperial Household was set against it, but heinsisted."

  "Who, for God's sake?" The impossible answer was rapidly dawning.

  Abruptly he paused, embarrassed by his own mental disarray.

  "His Majesty. Tam, we're about to meet the Emperor of Japan."

  In marched the bowing maids, lots of long-vowel honorifics--theyapparently assumed the honorable Richardson-san must be America's FirstLady--and took over.

  Tam knew full well that donning a formal kimono was no smallundertaking, but she'd forgotten what a major task it really could be.First came the undergarments: cotton vest and silk under-kimono,secured twice, once with a cord and then with an under-sash. Next wasthe kimono itself, right side folded under the left and then bound atthe waist with a cord, the excess length being pulled up and foldedover so that the hem just cleared the toes. That fold was in turnsecured by another waist cord, after which came yet another under-sash.Now it was ready for the all-important outer sash, the _obi_, a heavysilk strip wound around the waist twice, cinched hard, and knotted atthe back, long end up, short end down. Then the long end was foldedinto a sort of cloth _origami_, this one a butterfly, after which itwas rolled into a makeshift tube, into which the short end was stuffed.Finally this _obi _sculpture was secured with yet another waist cord,knotted in front.

  It was all done with minute precision, including the rakish display ofa prescribed few millimeters of silk under kimono at the neck, anerotic touch for traditionalists. Finally she put on special _tabi_stockings, bifurcated at the big toe to accommodate her thongedslippers.

  Then they attacked her hair, brushing, spraying, adding

  ornaments. The makeover took a good three quarters of an hour and evenso it was a rush job.

  As the sashes and cords and cinches got ever tighter and moresuffocating, she remembered what wearing a kimono can do to yourpsyche. The _obi _seemed designed to demolish breasts, the multiplewaist sashes and cords to totally immobilize the torso from rib cage tothigh. When Ken finally escorted her onto the elevator she felt like awalking mummy . . . this, she remembered, is why a lifelong kimonowearer minces along in short, pigeon-toed steps that suggest she's beenshackled at the knees.

  Downstairs the kitchen had been placed on war footing, and what awaitedwhen they entered the _tatami _banquet room was the tableau for a full-scale feast. The lacquer table was dotted with delicate rice-strawmats, on which was marshaled an array of ancient stoneware plates andcups--rugged black Raku, creamy white Shino, green-tipped Oribe. The_kakemono _picture-scroll hanging in the _tokonoma_ was a severemonochrome landscape in the angular ink style of the great masterSesshu. Was it authentic? she wondered. Where'd they get it?

  After a few minutes' wait the stately man she'd first seen on TVappeared in the doorway and began removing his shoes, surprisinglyrelaxed and informal despite the Household guards standing just outsidefor security. While everybody bowed to the floor, he greeted Noda--apparently they'd met when Noda presented the sword--and exchanged a fewpleasantries. His speech was now ordinary Japanese, not the archaiccourt dialect of the news conference. This was the real man. Noda bowedpolitely from time to time, then turned and introduced his party.

  The Emperor of Japan, Tam noticed, seemed to have an eye for theladies. When her turn came, he was all easy smiles, saying somethingabout how pleasant it was to meet such a charming American, since herarely had the honor. He then complimented her kimono.

  After that, His Majesty took the place of highest status, his back tothe _tokonoma_ alcove (traditionally the safest spot to be, since itwas the one location in a room sure to be backed by a solid wall), andmotioned for Noda to sit next to him on the left, the second-highestplace of honor.


  Then he nodded toward Tam, calling her his honorable foreign guest, andasked if she would indulge him by sitting on

  his right. She bowed back and took her place. Mori, whose own kimonowas a pattern of delicately shaded autumn leaves, was seated alongsideNoda, while Ken was placed next to Tam. As he was settling everybody,an important ritual of prestige, the Emperor kept repeating howdelighted he was to meet a real American--his exposure to the outsideworld these days apparently consisted mainly of television.

  He started things off by toasting Dai Nippon, International with asaucer of sake, after which he asked Noda to repeat for him againexactly how the sword had been recovered. Since his late father hadbeen an ardent marine biologist, he loved the part about thecomputerized magnetometer and pressed for all the details.

  Finally the banquet got underway, course after course of a littlesliver of local seafood and an ornamental portion of seasonalvegetable, everything on some unexpected serving piece. It was a feastof sight as much as taste. A delicacy called _mukozuke _came in a blacklacquer bowl, _hassun_ on a bamboo tray, _hashiarai _in a brown Rakucup, _konomono _in a weathered earthen dish, _yakimono_ on a gray Oribeplatter tipped with green. The sake pot was cast-iron, sixteenth-century, with a pale turquoise porcelain top. They all drank fromsaucers of crusty white Shino ware--the Emperor's tipped in gold.

  By then Tam's legs had begun to ache. She knew that sitting in formalJapanese style, on the heels, can eventually induce what seems likesemi-paralysis of the lower extremities. As she glanced around, shedecided that only Ken, who'd told her he was accustomed to kneelingtraditional style for hours practicing the tea ceremony, actuallyseemed comfortable.

  Finally the table was cleared for the famous specialty of the spa,which His Majesty had specifically requested. It was an ornate_yosenabe_, a lusty Japanese bouillabaisse of artfully sculpturedcomponents, each of which signified some episode in the fateful battleof Dan-no-ura--in fact, the very engagement in which the sword was lost.That was eight hundred years ago, Tam reminded herself, yet you'd thinkit was only last week.

  They were just concluding the meal with the traditional serving of_gohan_ or rice when the manager of the spa entered and announced thattheir special entertainer was now ready. He apologized that, althoughhe could offer nothing truly worthy of His Majesty, his humble spa hadbrought from Kyoto a performer he hoped would not be judged tooharshly. He then ordered more sake sent in.

  Although drinking more sake after a banquet's closing round of _gohan_is normally judged impolite, His Majesty just smiled and thanked theirflustered host. Around went the small flagons once more, maids scrapingthe _tatami _with their foreheads as they refilled the Emperor's gold-trimmed saucer.

  Then the _fusuma_ parted and the evening's surprise swept into theroom, wearing an austere autumn kimono of finest silk and holding a_shamisen_, a three-stringed instrument with a cat-skin face and goldfittings. Her lips were vermilion, her lacquered wig coal-black, herface chalk. As she bowed low before His Majesty, only one visage in theroom was paler than hers.

  She was, Ken whispered to Tam with great delight, none other thanMatsuo Noda's former "protegee," Koriko.

  After she had bowed low before the Emperor, she greeted the presidentand CEO of Dai Nippon as though he were merely another guest. He noddedand mumbled back a reply both curt and incomprehensible. Next shetossed a mildly flirtatious acknowledgment to Ken, who returned herwink and toasted her with his sake saucer.

  That ended the formalities, since she treated the women in the room asthough they were composed of thin air. Their presence violated alltradition, an embarrassment that could be papered over, Japanese style,simply by pretending they didn't exist. Tam could have cared less,while the pained face of Akira Mori indicated she was positivelyrelieved.

  Koriko took immediate command of the room with an easy poise thatconfirmed her professionalism. Tam guessed she was pushing forty butknew that aficionados of geisha prefer talent over youth. Using a largeivory plectrum, Koriko strummed her _shamisen_ twice, its wound-silkstrings piercing and whiny, then began a high-pitched song from herancient repertoire. Tam couldn't follow the words and doubted ifanybody else could either. However, she knew it was the convention thatcounted. Then at a dramatic moment two more geisha entered with aflourish and began a classical dance, all fans and rustling silk. Itwas a stunning floor show for those who appreciate slow-motion posesand flirtatiously exposed napes of neck. Between dances Koriko urgedmore sake on the men, joked with His Majesty and with Ken, and inducedthem both to sing a racy song. Noda, who sat there glaring, wasdiplomatically ignored.

  For her own part, Tam was finding this traditional "geisha party"extremely juvenile and silly. Was this what supposedly intelligentJapanese businessmen consider the height of refined amusement, all thisfake flattery and cajoling, mixed with not a few ribald doubleentendres? How depressing.

  After a few more songs and dances Koriko and her ensemble beganpreparing to depart, whereupon His Majesty presented her with a smallgift, or perhaps an honorarium, wrapped in gold paper and tied with anelaborate purple bow. In keeping with etiquette she didn't open it,merely thanked him graciously and tucked it into her obi. She thencaressed the ivory pegs of her shamisen with reverence, saying shewould treasure it forever as the unworthy instrument that had solacedthe ears of His Imperial Majesty.

  With a final bow to Noda, never hinting she knew him, she backed outthe door and was gone, followed by the others. His look of reliefreminded Tam of a man who'd just walked away from a collapsingbuilding.

  Whatever may have been Tam's, or Matsuo Noda's, secret thoughts aboutKoriko, the Emperor clearly had had a rollicking time. Presumably hedidn't have all that many occasions to flirt with geisha. Now slightlythe worse for sake, he began to wax pensive, turning to his Americanguest and offering to provide an account of the battle of Dan-no-ura.It was a definite switch of mood, but Koriko's traditional songs seemedto have struck a nostalgic nerve. Or perhaps the sword had brought hima new enthusiasm for the past he wanted to share. As he startedrecounting the battle, Tam smiled to think it was like having the Queenherself brief you on that family squabble of yesteryear called the Warof the Roses.

  "That battle, Richardson-san, between the Heike and Genji clans, was aturning point in the long history of our country; it represented therise to power of the warriors. The shogunate." He smiled politely. "I'mafraid the monarchy never quite recovered.

  "In fact, today the crabs in the Inland Sea have a mark on the back oftheir shells that people say is like the insignia of the Heike, thatthey represent the fallen banners of the Heike nobles." He paused whilea maid topped off his tiny cup with more hot sake. "I suppose you'veseen them?"

  "_Hai, miraremashita_." Of course, she nodded, stretching

  out her vowels to maximum politeness. She wasn't sure she had actually,but this was no time to appear like a dumb _gaijin_.

  "Well, after many years of fighting, the Heike nobles and the boyemperor they were defending fled to an island across the Inland Sea.But the Genji forces pursued them and eventually they were forced totake to their boats once more. Finally the battle was joined. Since theHeike were experienced sailors, they assumed they would prevail in anaval encounter, and thus their commander unwisely elected to make hisstand in the straits, where the riptide was as quick and treacherousthen as it is today. At first he had the tide in his favor and theyheld the enemy, but around noon the tide changed and was against them.Gradually the forces of the Genji surrounded the ship bearing theemperor and the court."

  His voice faltered slightly, and she realized the story was still asfresh for him as if it had happened yesterday. Finally he continued.

  "As the sad story is told in the Heike Monogatari, the court nobles sawa school of dolphins coming toward them. They said, 'If these turnback, the Genji will be destroyed and we will triumph. If they proceed,it will be a bad omen.' When the dolphins continued on, even divingunder their ships, the Heike realized they were lost. And sure enough,at that mom
ent the Genji ships began closing in.

  "Now the tragic part. The nurse of the boy emperor-- Antoku was onlyeight--resolved what she would do. She donned a double outer dress ofdark gray, the color of mourning, tucked up the long skirts of herheavy silk _hakama _robe, and wrapped the sacred sword in her girdle.Then, taking young Antoku in her arms, she moved to the gunwale of thevessel and looked down at the waves. Finally she said to the men of thecourt, Though I am only a woman, I will not surrender myself to ourenemies. I will accompany our Sovereign Emperor on his journey.'

  "At that moment little Antoku looked up, his long black hair streamingdown his back, and asked, 'Where are you taking me?'

  "Tears began to flow down her cheeks. She said to him, 'Bow to the eastand bid your farewell to the Great Shrine at Ise. Our capital will nolonger be Kyoto but a place beneath the seas, where there is nosorrow.'

  "So the young Antoku, his white robes the color of the

  dove, bowed east to Ise--whereupon the nurse, holding him in one arm andthe sacred sword in the other, leapt into the waves.

  "Next, another woman tried to jump overboard with the casket holdingthe sacred mirror, but an arrow pinned her _hakama_ to the gunwales,and the Genji soldiers retrieved it. All we know of what happened nextis the dispatch they sent back to the new rulers in Kyoto, whichdeclared, 'The former emperor is at the bottom of the sea, and thesacred mirror has been recovered. But the sword is lost and a search isbeing made.'" He turned and nodded toward Noda. "Only tonight, eightcenturies later, can the rest be told. At last, the sword has beenrestored to Us."

  Noda bowed low and offered a toast to the Imperial line.

  It was then that Akira Mori first spoke. Although she addressed herwords to Tam, they were obviously meant for His Majesty. "Richardson-san, recovering the sword is a more important historical event thanmany realize. Its loss coincided with the end of Imperial power inJapan. After that, the emperor became a figurehead, a captive of theshoguns." She shot a quick glance at Noda. "If the sword means nothingelse, it should remind us all that no shogun must ever be allowed torise again."

  What's she driving at? Tam wondered.

  "Of course." His Majesty took up the theme. "Although there was a timein this century when the militarists once again made a tool of theemperor of Japan, I agree it was wrong." He looked at Mori withadmiration. "The respect your words show for the Imperial house ofYamato touches me deeply."

  While she bowed in acknowledgment, he turned to Noda. "In the samemanner, Noda-san, Japan's important place in the modern world bringsspecial respect to Us as well. For that We must thank you and all thosehelping to fashion the new Japan,"

  Tam watched Noda, puzzling. Something was going on, some kind of codedcross-talk she didn't fully comprehend. Shogun. Emperor. What waseverybody's unspoken agenda?

  At that point His Majesty rose unsteadily and announced he had a heavyday ahead, whereupon he summarily bade everyone good evening andexited, Imperial Household guards in attendance. Tam noticed that Moriwatched his departure with a wistful . . . worshipful, gaze.

  After he was gone, a reverent stillness settled around them. Even Ken,normally talkative, was subdued. What's going on here? she puzzled. Onething was sure: Japan was like a magical onion, with layers to bepeeled away slowly. Each time you learn something new, yet you neverreally get to the core.

  When the last dishes had been cleared and nothing remained on their lowtable except fresh kettles of sake, Noda leaned back and broke thesilence. She realized he was speaking to her. Matsuo Noda, it quicklycame to light, was fully familiar with her books.

  But that was merely the beginning. Next, Akira Mori, who'd been quietlywaiting her turn, joined in.

  "Were you moved by the story of the nurse who threw herself into thewaves, Richardson-san? The one who sacrificed her own life to honor herideals?"

  "It was a very touching account." Tam looked at her, surprised by thesudden friendliness. "I understand even more now why everybody's soexcited about the sword."

  "Presumably you know," Mori continued evenly, "that the young emperor'snurse was undoubtedly Fujiwara. Perhaps of low rank, but nonetheless amember of the family that historically has been closest to the throne."

  "Of course, the Fujiwara were always Imperial retainers--"

  "Have you taken no interest in that family?" Mori continued, her facestill revealing nothing.

  "I . . . no, not really?" Tam studied her.

  "Perhaps you should, Dr. Richardson." She switched to flawless English."Are you aware that your own mother was Fujiwara? In fact, it ispossible that in your veins runs the same blood as the nurse who gaveher life for the emperor that April day eight hundred years ago."

  Tam felt a numbness sweep over her. She'd never thought much about herreal mother, or father. Naturally there would have been no way oftracing him, at least none she knew. But of course there'd be fullrecords of the woman who bore her, then put her up for adoption. Forsome reason Mori--or was it Noda himself?--had had them looked up. They'duncovered something about her that she herself had never wanted, forwell-examined reasons, to explore. Her adoptive parents had been allanybody could desire. Why stir up unknowns? Besides, she believed innurture, not nature.

  "You both seem to know a great many things about me."

  Her glance shifted back and forth between them. She was surprised, yes,but if they'd assumed she'd be stunned, they were wrong. She'd decidedlong ago not to let herself care.

  "Although your true mother no longer lives, you are most certainlyFujiwara," Mori went on. "You have blood ties with the family that oncestood ready to give its life for the emperor. Therefore you may evenhave a connection with the sword itself."

  Noda moved in. "We also believe, Dr. Richardson, that you, because ofyour work, could have a vital role in the endeavor Dai Nippon will soonundertake. That is the reason we want to speak with you tonight."

  At last, Tam thought. I'm finally going to find out why Matsuo Noda"accidentally" happened to ask me along.

  "I've been waiting to hear this."

  Since the _fusuma _sliding doors were drawn closed, shutting out theserving women, Noda breached conventional etiquette and reached acrossthe table to pour more sake into Tam's tiny Shino dish himself. Kenmerely looked on silently as Mori took up Noda's theme.

  "We would like you to be part of something that would do honor to yourFujiwara heritage, Dr. Richardson, the noble family that so long servedthe emperor."

  "I may or may not be Fujiwara, Mori-san, but I already have my work."

  "Dr. Richardson, do hear us out," Noda interjected, pressing. "We wishto advise you that important, even potentially disruptive events, lieahead for America. Very soon. And we would like very much for someonesuch as yourself, a pragmatist, to be involved. Especially since, inaddition to your professional skills, you are in a position tounderstand the cultures, the attitudes, of both Americans and Japanese.Your assistance could be invaluable."

  "Invaluable for what purpose?"

  "A worthy undertaking, we assure you. Think of it if you will as anattempt to prevent Japan and the West from going to war with each otheragain."

  She looked back and forth between the two of them, trying to fathomwhat they were driving at. Then Noda continued, revealing again thatnothing had happened by chance.

  "We brought you here today to Ise to remind you of the importance ofyour Japanese heritage. A heritage whose sole

  purpose is, like Shinto itself, the peace and ordering of the world."

  "What's this all about?" She looked at Ken, in a black silk kimono,serenely sipping his sake and looking the essence of cultivated,tantalizing otherness. "Did you have anything to do with this?"

  He carefully set down his Shino dish and smoothed his long sleeve. "Idid have occasion to remind Noda-sama that you have a uniquecombination of background and expertise, Tamara, that could be veryinstrumental in the realization of his objectives."

  "And what are his objectives?" She looked back at Noda. "Yourobje
ctives?"

  "You, Dr. Richardson, should appreciate this better than anyone." Hestudied his sake saucer. "There are things the West excels at doing,and there are areas, I trust it is not improper to say, in which weJapanese have demonstrated aptitude. Why should we compete in eachother's spheres? It leads only to divisiveness. We open ourselves topredators-- from the steppes of the Caucasus to the oil-rich deserts ofAraby. But if we join together, the peoples of Japan and America canachieve insurmountable strength."

  "You're talking about something that would more properly be in therealm of diplomacy, Noda-san."

  He laughed. "Pardon me, Dr. Richardson, but diplomacy is merely thewindow dressing for reality. The world cares not a penny for diplomacy,only for power. No one troubled about the Persian Gulf states untilthey had OPEC and the rest of us had no petroleum. Then suddenly theywere toasted worldwide as men of great moment. That is the meaning of'diplomacy.'

  "The reason I knew you would understand the importance of Ise," he wenton, "is that, in your genes, you are part of us. You appreciate thevalue of harmony, one of the first teachings of our philosophy. Theremust be harmony between man and his world."

  "What does that--?"

  "Please, just allow me to finish. In like manner, there must also beharmony between nations. Yet all we hear about today is friction.Usually trade friction. Between our nations. But what can be done? Thesolutions we hear talked of seem, for reasons political and otherwise,impossible to implement. So what course does that leave? You speak ofdiplomacy, but already diplomacy has been shown inadequate. Why, wemight ask, is that so? Because, as your Thomas Jefferson observed manyyears ago, money is the principal exchange of civilized nations.Diplomacy comes out of economic power. It was trade that estranged ourtwo nations once before in this century, leading to a conflict neitherof us desired, and it is money that creates these 'frictions' we hearabout so much today. Since diplomacy has failed, we must now find othermeans to bring stability and thus harmony to both our nations."

  She was tempted to ask him how all the right-wing, nationalistic fervorhe was churning up with the sword would contribute to this so-calledharmony, but instead she inquired what, specifically, he was proposing.

  "The most pressing problem America has today, Dr. Richardson, is thegrowing inability of your industries to compete. If I may be allowed togeneralize: America's strength has long been in innovation, but I thinkit is reasonable to suggest that Japanese management has had acommensurate share of success. So much so that we have been the subjectof a flurry of books in your country." He smiled. "Even, I should add,several very insightful volumes written by you yourself. Also, Japaneseindustry has already been part of a number of joint ventures,instituting our management techniques in the service of America'sbusiness."

  "Well, unquestionably we do have problems in our industrial sector justnow," Tam interjected. "But Japan has plenty of difficulties of itsown."

  "Most assuredly." He nodded. "However, as some might put it, 'the proofis in the pudding.' I merely ask you to compare your, and our, balanceof trade, or productivity. Surely these both suggest there is truth inwhat I say."

  At that point Akira Mori abruptly seized the floor. "You know, Dr.Richardson, there are those in your country who are now saying yourtrade problems are caused by Japan. That we should work less, saveless, squander more, just as you do. Perhaps so we will self-destructeconomically as America is now doing and no longer be an embarrassmentto you."

  "That is hardly--" Noda tried to break in, but she waved him aside.

  "No, this needs to be said. I am tired of hearing Americans tell us tofollow their example." She turned back. "Your media

  chastise us for our thrift and hard work, while your businessmen, whoare happy enough to grow rich retailing the superior goods we make,refuse to invest their profits in modernizing their own factories.Instead they give themselves bonuses and Japan lectures."

  At that she wound down, to the obvious relief of Noda and Ken. Theoutburst seemed to pass as quickly as it had come, but it succeeded inreinforcing Tarn's reservations about Akira Mori.

  "So what exactly do you have in mind?" She looked back at Noda.

  "Dr. Richardson, no one in Japan desires to see America's industrialbase disintegrate. That is dangerous for the future, both yours andours. Yet joint ventures and management seminars are too little, toolate. We, and by 'we' I mean Dai Nippon, are determined to make a morestructured contribution."

  As he laid out his plan, she realized that Matsuo Noda had decided toplay God. Still, in this world such things were possible; all it tookwas enough financial clout. If anybody doubted that, just rememberOPEC.

  But that was the last time around. Now Japan had the money. Maybe theoil billionaires of years past had no good idea what to do with theirwinnings, but Matsuo Noda had a very precise idea indeed.

  The one remaining problem: he needed Tamara Richardson.