CHAPTER TWENTY
Dr. Kenji Asano gazed out the window of his office at the Institute,the last shafts of sun casting long shadows in the canyons below. Itwas late Tuesday afternoon, and gales of December wind tunneled aroundthe skyscrapers of Tokyo, chilling the gray steel and glass. The blankcomputer screens reflected back his smooth, trim face, his glum eyes.Technology. It was divorcing man from all sensibility. What Kenji Asanofound himself wanting at that moment was not high-tech but high-touch,to be seated on the _tatami _of his Tokyo teahouse, smelling the freshstraw, gazing out over the manicured evergreen shrubs of his garden,the clumps of leafless black bamboo. He recalled again the tea ceremonyin Kyoto and the sight of Tamara approaching down the stepping stonesof the "dewy path." She was a rare American, one who understood theessence of _cha-no-yu_--inner power shows itself in outer restraint.
As he lit a Peace cigarette with a wooden match and continued toexamine the cheerless skyline of Tokyo, a thought flickered past--Bodhidharma, the first Zen master, who had plucked away his eyelids toprevent sleep as he meditated. That reflection led naturally toruminations on the master's disciple, Hui-ko, who sat _zazen _for daysin the snows outside Shao-lin monastery, then finally severed his ownarm and offered it to the master as testament of his devotion.
_Bushido_, the code of the samurai. Who today would cut off an arm toprove determination? Or be Benkei at the Bridge, the servant who breaksthe rules of society and cudgels his own master to protect theirdisguise and deceive their foes. That famous episode, he told himself,would be his model. Sometimes _bushido _required you to circumventtradition and honor for the greater good.
What was happening in Japan? These days many thoughtful Japanese wereexpressing open concern, even fear, over their country's risingnationalism. Although high officials still couched their flag-waving incoded language intended to elude foreign notice, many prominent voiceswere now suggesting "it's wrong to think prewar Japan was all bad." Thelatest school textbooks spoke glowingly of the country's Imperialtraditions. Encouraged by this jingoism, in truth veiled racism, manysuperpatriots were beginning to emerge from obscurity. Now, with theImperial sword as symbol, the Japanese right was openly on the march.Surely Noda had known it would happen, had counted on it.
He recalled the line by Yeats, "And what rough beast, its hour comeround at last . . ."
The "beast," Kenji Asano feared, had arisen in Japan. And its monstroushead was none other than Matsuo Noda. Who could have suspected the darkside of Noda's grand design or the extent of his determination?Violence, money in the billions, and accomplices where they were leastsuspected. Perhaps even inside MITI.
This last disturbing prospect had convinced Kenji Asano that the timefor operating within the rules was past. He had already taken a firststep, aided unwittingly by a bureaucrat of immense ambition within theministry. His first counterploy against Noda had bought time--how muchhe didn't know-- but the next move must be decisive.
He glanced around his office, then at the MITI reports stacked high onhis desk. Benkei at the Bridge. For Kenji Asano only one course wasleft. He would now have to use his own master, MITI, to destroy MatsuoNoda.
His mind went back to the meeting at his MITI office Monday of theprevious week. Although he was on temporary assignment at theInstitute, he still checked in daily at the ministry. Filing into hisoffice at nine-thirty sharp had been the three men whose "consensus"was crucial. The difficulty was, they must never know what he planned.
Michio Watanabe, International Trade Policy Bureau,
Trade Research Section: heavyset, early fifties, a professionalbureaucrat with powerful eyes and a permanent expression of skepticism.He had been a close colleague of Noda's for decades.
Tanzan Kitano, Industrial Policy Bureau, International EnterprisesSection: gray hair tinged with silver, immaculate dresser, spoke fivelanguages. He had been in MITI over twenty years and had maintained thesame mistress for fifteen: a man respected for his long-range thinking.
Hiromu Ikeda, Industrial Technology Agency: late thirties, thrived onexpediency, doing the job no matter the consequences. Part of a hardnew breed, he was Japan's future. And MlTI was his future.
While the men moved toward the wide couch across from his desk, KenjiAsano opened with offhand pleasantries, directed mainly towardWatanabe, partly because he was eldest and partly to sound out hismind-state. Next he welcomed Kitano with a few inquiries concerning hiswife and son, a transparent formality since he was known far and wideto despise them both. Finally he greeted Ikeda and indicated themeeting would be short, knowing the younger man liked to move directlyto matters at hand and regarded the usual preliminaries as an old-fashioned waste of time.
Agenda: The American companies Matsuo Noda was acquiring. A propositionhad surfaced (in Japanese bureaucracies, all ideas are anonymous andthus devoid of repercussions) that certain MITI personnel be put onleave of absence to serve on the boards of those U.S. concerns. Giventhe heavy participation of Japanese monies in Noda's American program,perhaps a more formal monitoring mechanism would be helpful to head offpotential anxiety in Tokyo's financial community.
The idea, of course, was Kenji Asano's. He had first laid thegroundwork with a few oblique hints to several of Dai Nippon's majorinstitutional backers, particularly the Dai-Ichi Credit Corporation,Ltd. That move had borne fruit. Within days they had begun wonderingaloud whether the ministry might wish to consider helping overseeNoda's American investments. So far, so good. Now MITI itself had to beconvinced. This meeting would undoubtedly be the first of many,resulting eventually in a consensus. Would the ministry go along?
Having set forth the topic, Kenji Asano surrendered the floor toWatanabe, the senior man present--and therefore the one whose views, inkeeping with convention, would be listened to and applauded by everyoneelse in the room whether they agreed or not.
"In my judgment, the original objectives of Matsuo Noda and Dai Nipponare the most desirable means of maintaining the long-term security ofJapan," Watanabe declared. "It is in our strategic interest that he beallowed to succeed. Which is why MITI should stay 'hands-off,' shouldlimit its participation to an advisory capacity, nothing more. Anythingfurther could well prove extremely counterproductive in our relationswith the United States. We do not need more friction."
"So deshoo, Watanabe-san." Kitano, the man second in seniority, noddedafter a moment's pause. "I totally concur with the basic aspects of theviewpoint you have expressed." He was telling everybody he hadn't madeup his mind.
"I also support fully Watanabe-san's insightful summary of the relevantissues." Ikeda spoke up, his honorifics far more polite than necessary,a signal. "_Keredomo _(however) . . . it might possibly be prudent toexamine briefly the considerations advanced by those who differ withthis wise assessment in order that we may counter their concerns morethoughtfully."
That was it. Kenji Asano had a head count. Watanabe was against sendingMITI personnel. Kitano was waffling. Hiromu Ikeda was foursquare andhell-bent in favor of the idea. He had just announced it to the room.
Was Watanabe in league with Noda, willing to give him free rein? Was heone of Noda's operatives inside the ministry? Or was he merelyadvancing his own ideas, genuinely fearful an influx of MITI personnelinto the U.S. could precipitate a severe diplomatic flap?
On the other hand, why was Ikeda so in favor of having MITI move in onNoda? The answer to that was hardly a puzzle. MITI's young prince ofambition, Hiromu Ikeda, scented the possibility of grabbing a part ofMatsuo Noda's new American empire for his own. Handled skillfully, itmight well catapult him directly to vice minister inside a decade.
"Perhaps it would be useful to review once more the main elements ofthe situation." Kitano knew he had the middle ground and thus wasoffering to arbitrate. "The condition of America now is very troubling.The question is, how can we best aid them, and ourselves. We in Japanrealize that a nation's true strength is ultimately not in armamentsbut in the health of its economy, its industry. Yet the Americans, bymakin
g themselves a military state, have paradoxically imperiled theirreal security. How long can we continue to rely on an ally so blind tothe main threat to its own strategic well- being? Matsuo Noda iscorrect. Our very safety may soon be imperiled. Something must be done.The only question is how best to proceed."
"_So desu ne_." Watanabe pressed, realizing he would have to force hispoint. "The Pentagon is, ironically, America's most insidious enemy.Japan's greatest benefit from America's defense umbrella has not beenthe billions we've saved on sterile arms; it has been the technicalmanpower we have free to support competitive industries. But the pricehas been the industrial decline of our foremost ally. This cannot, mustnot, be permitted to continue." He paused. "Matsuo Noda, a man I'veknown and respected for years, who guided this ministry to greatness,should be allowed to assist the Americans rebuild their civilian sectorunhindered by us. If MITI involves itself at this time, the Americangovernment may well grow alarmed and step in to stop him. Then theirindustrial stagnation will merely accelerate."
"_So deshoo_," Ikeda finally spoke. "I agree. Unfortunately, however,there are some who believe the task Noda-sama has undertaken cannotsucceed without direct MITI assistance. Again it is a matter of our ownsecurity. The question has arisen concerning whether we should continueto rely on the Americans to rescue their industrial base unassisted byany formal direction. Of course I disagree with such pessimistic views,but some would say we ourselves must now step forward and assume globalleadership in technology to prevent a vacuum from developing in theFree World. By taking charge of America's floundering high-tech sector,we could rescue it from continued mismanagement, while--incidentally--satisfying our own R&D needs in a way that is extremely cost-effective. However, this can only be achieved if we are in a positionto provide hands-on guidance. Which means direct MITI involvement." Hepaused. "These opinions of course are not my own, merely ones I haveheard voiced. I am told, though it is difficult to comprehend, thatthis viewpoint has
been entertained by Nakayama-sama of the Secretariat, and evendiscussed in his weekly conference with the Parliamentary ViceMinister."
The hand of fate! Asano exulted. Hiromu Ikeda has already done my workfor me. He's gone over everybody's head. He swallowed the idea like acarp snapping a hovering dragonfly, then went off and peddled it to theVice Minister as though it were his own.
A man to watch out for in the future, he thought. But a perfect ally atthe moment.
Watanabe said nothing. His ancient face was in shock. Everybodyrealized the meeting was over. It was clear Ikeda had trampled onconsensus and seniority in order to further his own fortunes.
"Watanabe-san, I think we all agree your understanding of the situationis entirely proper," Kenji Asano said soothingly. "But solely in theinterest of continued theoretical discussion at some later time, itmight be prudent if all sections prepared a contingency list of staff,fluent in English, who would be suitable for reassignment to anAmerican sector."
"It is always wise to cover contingencies, Asano-san," Watanabe saiddryly.
None of them realized it, of course, but Hiromu Ikeda's ambition couldwell turn out to be the salvation of MITI itself. But for now, Asanomused, that was something none of them needed to know.
Looking out the window at the freezing streets below, glimmering fromheadlights and neon, Kenji Asano told himself that a dangerous game layahead. Noda's first gambit had been countered, but there would be more.What he needed was a preemptive strike.
He had made the plans for that strike, a play of pure, absolute genius.The catch was, Tamara would have to cooperate.
With that thought he reached down and unlocked the top right-handdrawer of his metal desk, then drew out a large red and blue envelope.It was air express from a university address in California. As hefingered the stripes along its side, he recalled how it had arrivedhere at his office at The Institute for New Generation ComputerTechnology while he'd been in Kyoto with Tamara.
Finally he opened it again and slipped out the contents.
Inside was a confidential memo on the old Nippon, Inc. letterhead,unsigned but obviously authored by Matsuo Noda, a top-security documentthat had been clocked in at a document station at Tsukuba Science City.How had Allan Stern stumbled onto this? Had he stolen it? Picked it upby accident? It was in Japanese, so how could he have sensed its realimport?
American ingenuity, he told himself, defied all understanding. Thememo, which outlined the timetable for a massive scenario, had been thefirst step of a long path of discovery leading Kenji Asano toindisputable proof of Matsuo Noda's real objective. Allan Stern musthave had this translated or somehow intuitively guessed Noda's plan.And then . . . Allan Stem had tried to warn MITI. Why? Out of pastregard for Dr. Yoshida, former head of the Institute and a closefriend?
Stern reportedly had vanished the same day this envelope waspostmarked. Noda had acted, but not swiftly enough.
Who at MITI had been the original recipient of this memo? Maybe, hethought, it no longer mattered. There was only one real way to stop DaiNippon. . . .
At that moment his phone buzzed. As he punched the button, hisflustered secretary announced that an in-flight call was waiting,channeled through MITI's satellite security link. It was the presidentof Dai Nippon, International.
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