Conspiracy

by Allan Topol

  "Unfortunately not. It's a political matter of the greatest urgency."

  He was taken aback by this announcement. Then, as he remembered her connection to the senator, he recovered himself. "Please tell me."

  She gulped hard, then began her saga with her conviction that Senator Boyd had been murdered. She talked about Cady's role, then the investigation in Napa, and how they had almost been killed by Terasawa in Rock Creek Park. She omitted only the involvement of the chief justice and General Clayton, making it appear as if she had come to Los Angeles by herself, because that was what General Clayton had told her to do. Like any good lawyer, she decided instinctively to hold back one piece of evidence, so she didn't tell him about the recording McDermott had made of his conversation with Harrison. In all, she talked for almost an hour. Fujimura listened intently, smoking one cigarette and then another, but showing no emotion or visible reaction. When she was finished, she handed him copies of the materials she had taken from Harrison's office. He put his cigarette down and studied the documents.

  "You've made some very serious accusations," he said solemnly. "With tremendous implications for the relationship of our two nations."

  "Only with the greatest reluctance. I firmly believe that they're true."

  His eyes, magnified by his thick glasses, looked up at her. "Could someone be intentionally misleading you?"

  She paused for a few seconds before answering. "I honestly don't think so. It all fits together too well."

  He still wasn't satisfied. "Is it possible that Harrison alone is responsible, and he's arranged matters to appear as if Sato is his partner?"

  She shrugged her shoulders. "All of the evidence seems to suggest otherwise."

  He stroked his chin with his thumb and forefinger, weighing her words. "Why did you come to me?"

  "For your advice, if you feel comfortable providing it. Cady is waiting for me in downtown Los Angeles. He has official orders issued by the Justice Department for the extradition of Harrison and Sato. He's prepared to deliver them to your embassy in Washington tomorrow."

  "Which would precipitate an enormous crisis between our two countries."

  "Precisely. That's what I hope to avoid. I'm aware of your personal relationship with Prime Minister Nakamura. I believe that these matters warrant his attention. Perhaps he can suggest a less formal way to resolve this matter. If he cannot, at least we will be providing him with the courtesy of advance notice, to which he is entitled as the leader of a close ally."

  Fujimura lit another cigarette, rose, and paced slowly around the room, deep in thought. She closed her eyes, letting a wave of weariness pass over her body, and waited.

  "I'm prepared to fly back to Tokyo this evening," he said softly. "There's a late plane. But I don't know whether Prime Minister Nakamura would be willing to discuss these matters with me."

  Taylor decided to press her case, even at the risk of alienating him. "May I respectfully suggest that when you talk to the honorable prime minister, you give prominence to the recent death of Alex Glass, which occurred in Japan. Were that fact to be made public along with everything else, it would be unfortunate."

  Irritated, Fujimura responded in a cool voice, "I'm well aware of that."

  Realizing she had gone too far, Taylor quickly backed off. "Would you like to take the Harrison documents with you? I could make copies here at the hotel."

  "For now, you keep them safe. My suggestion is that you stay at the Bel Air tonight in my suite. From Japan, I'll call you here tomorrow and give you a report."

  Taylor glanced at her watch. In fifteen minutes the second hour would be up. Clayton with his marines would descend on the Bel Air. She stood up abruptly.

  "I have to go back to my hotel to get my things," she said. "Later, when you're gone, I'll return."

  He didn't notice her distress. Instead he handed her a room key. "It will all be arranged with the reception desk."

  As she started toward the door, she turned around and looked at the worried Fujimura. The furrows had deepened on his forehead. He looked much older than when she had arrived.

  * * *

  "Would you say that he was surprised by what you told him?" Clayton asked when she returned to the van.

  "He's not a man who shows his emotions, yet I dropped a bombshell on him. He had to be surprised."

  "Unless, of course," interjected Cady, "he's been a part of this from the beginning, in which case he wasn't surprised at all."

  Cady's observation troubled her. "Do you really think—"

  "At this point I don't know what to think. He could have been their California contact. His being out here is a hell of a coincidence. He knows both Sato and Harrison. How many other people fit that description?"

  After the way Harrison deceived her, she wasn't sure she could trust anyone. She turned to Clayton. "What do you think, General? Am I letting my friendship with Fujimura cloud my judgment?"

  He shrugged. "At this point I can't tell. After Fujimura leaves I'll make an arrangement with the hotel so any phone calls or messages you receive are sent out to the air force base where we'll be. We'll wait there and see what he does in Tokyo."

  "Wouldn't it be better if I stayed in his suite at the Bel Air," she asked, "as he suggested?"

  "You can't expose yourself that way," Cady pleaded.

  "You're missing the point, C.J. That's how we can find out if Fujimura is a part of this with Harrison and Sato. Nobody else will know I'm in his suite at the Bel Air. If someone does come, I'll have to agree he's involved. If they don't, then you have to admit that we can trust him." He was still worried, and she added, "There's no risk. We have six marines who could ensure my safety. Right, General Clayton?"

  The general was weighing her idea. "If you're willing to take the risk," he said, "I'm game. It would be good to know for certain where Fujimura stands. I'm sure I can get the hotel to cooperate with us without telling them what it's all about. I'll have the van take you back to the Bel Air once Fujimura leaves. Cady and I will go out to the base for the night."

  "I want to do it," she replied. "I've got to show you two that Fujimura's not mixed up with Sato and Harrison in this."

  "Well, if Taylor's going to stay at the Bel Air tonight, I'll be there, too," Cady said to General Clayton. "I'm not taking a chance of leaving her alone."

  * * *

  Taylor and Cady watched a rerun of the evening's presidential debate on the television set in the living room of Fujimura's suite while they ate dinner from room service—power food: sirloin steaks and baked potatoes followed by hot-fudge sundaes.

  Unlike the Webster-Boyd debates, which had been civil and dignified, this was a no-holds-barred slugfest. As she watched, Taylor had no doubt who was coming out on top. Crane sounded fresh and sharp, with a vision for the country. The president looked tired. Whether Crane could pull off the impossible, to turn next Tuesday's election into a real contest, remained to be seen.

  Once the debate ended and the spin doctors took over, Taylor turned off the set.

  "Who won?" she asked Cady.

  "Tweedledee and Tweedledum."

  "Gee, I thought Crane came across so much better. It's clear that he wants to make sweeping changes to improve things. Webster just wants to stay in office."

  "Get real. The way I see it, they're both posturing for the public. Who knows what they'll do if they're elected?"

  "You're such a cynic."

  There was a rustling in the trees outside in the back of the suite. Cady jumped to his feet and grabbed the revolver from his jacket pocket.

  "Get under the bed," he shouted to her.

  She hit the floor. On her elbows and knees, she crawled toward the bed.

  "I'm going to look around outside," he said.

  She heard the door slam. Minutes later he reentered the suite and called to her, still under the bed, "False alarm. Nothing."

  She scrambled to her feet.

  Cady said, "It finally struck me when I was walk
ing around outside that I was being stupid. You're right, of course. Nobody will attack us here tonight."

  "Then you agree with me that we can trust Fujimura?"

  Cady shook his head. "That's not it at all. I finally figured out how this thing's playing out. It's like a vortex, a sort of giant vacuum cleaner, sucking us in slowly. They're not going to make any effort to harm us here in California. They don't have to. With Fujimura's help, Harrison and Sato will lure us to Japan and kill us there."

  "You really believe that?"

  "Absolutely. You'll probably get a call from Fujimura tomorrow asking us both to go to Japan. That'll be part of the setup."

  He waited as she mulled over Cady's words, but not for long. "So what are you going to do if Fujimura asks us to go to Japan?"

  "It'll never happen."

  "Meaning that you don't know what you'll do."

  When she didn't respond, he said, "Ah, to hell with all that."

  He walked over and put his arms around her, pulling her close. For an instant he hesitated, waiting to see if she would resist. When she didn't, he leaned down and kissed her. She returned the kiss with an urgency that answered any doubts he had. He slid a hand around to her front and stroked the side of her breast.

  When she finally pulled away, her face was flushed. "There's a large Jacuzzi in the bathroom."

  He smiled. "But I didn't bring a bathing suit."

  "Neither did I. Let's crack some champagne." With her next thought, a devilish twinkle appeared in her eye. "Also, why don't you get the leftover fudge from the sundaes?"

  "Why do you want that?"

  Turning him by the shoulder, she pushed him in the direction of the bar. "Do you always have to be in charge?"

  When he entered the bathroom a few minutes later, she was wearing only her white lace panties. As he watched, she slipped out of them and leaned over the tub, adding bubble bath and adjusting the temperature. It was the most erotic sight that Cady had ever seen.

  He placed everything on a small table and reached for her. She was too fast for him, slipping into the tub and disappearing under the suds, except for her head. She turned on the jets as he yanked off his clothes. "Hey, hurry up."

  Inside the tub, he sat down facing her and poured two glasses of champagne. As he raised his glass, he said, "Getting to know you has been the only good to come out of this mess."

  She tapped her glass against his. "Ditto. I'll drink to that."

  They relaxed in the tub, intensely aware of each other's naked bodies, while they finished their champagne. Then Cady leaned forward and kissed her again. He ran his fingers slowly around her breasts, first one and then the other. They were soft and warm from the water. When her tongue darted into his mouth, he dropped his hand lower, rubbing and stroking while he continued to kiss her. He spread her legs apart and inserted two fingers inside as he continued caressing her with the heel of his hand, rubbing it in a clockwise motion, faster and faster until her whole body convulsed.

  Once she recovered from her flight to ecstasy, she moved her toes over his penis and testicles. She kissed him deeply, touching his chest lightly with the tips of her fingers, playing with his nipples, exciting him even more.

  "Bed," he mumbled, standing up and holding out his hand to help her up. "Let's go to bed."

  But she refused to budge. Instead she ran her fingers over his rigid member, touching and probing, sending twinges throughout his entire body.

  "Bed," he mumbled again. "I want you now."

  With her knees on the floor of the tub, she reached for the silver pitcher with the thick, cold fudge. She poured it over his erect penis, then spread it around with one hand. When he was coated, she ran her tongue over the tip of his penis and then along the shaft, licking as she went. "Um, I like fudge," she said.

  He closed his eyes and gave himself over to her. She took the whole thing into her mouth and sucked. He was powerless to do anything at all. She had achieved total control over him. With her wet mouth around him, he felt the excitement rising to a climax. But then she squeezed the bottom of his penis firmly just above the balls, and that pulled him back from the brink.

  At last she rose and led him to the bed. With their bodies still dripping wet, she pushed him down flat on his back, and she mounted him. They moved together in a slow, undulating rhythm. When his body began to shudder, at long last finding relief, she drove herself to climax as well. Their bodies trembled together. She remained on top of him, pressing down, resting her head on the curly hairs of his chest long after he slipped out of her.

  She leaned up and kissed him gently once more. Then she rolled off. That was the last thing either of them felt before they disappeared into a deep sleep.

  * * *

  A powerful storm worked its way through the Pacific and lashed the island of Honshu. Torrents of water poured from the sky, flooding narrow Tokyo streets. A large black limousine pulled up in front of the office of Prime Minister Nakamura. Yahiro Sato emerged from the back of the car. Under an umbrella held by a staffer, he walked smartly into the building. Despite the hard rain, Sato had a broad smile on his face, projecting the image of a man close to attaining his cherished objective: becoming the prime minister of a remilitarized Japan. Inside, though, his stomach was churning. He wasn't able to dismiss Harrison's warning, despite his verbal bravado to the American. As long as that woman, Taylor, was in pursuit, everything he had worked for was at risk.

  An hour later, when Sato left the building, an expression of grim determination marked his face. As the limousine pulled away, Sato turned to Ozawa in the back of the car and gave him a series of instructions.

  "There is no room for error," he said at the end.

  Ozawa was dropped at the headquarters of the Self-defense Forces. With the rain pounding down, he stood and bowed politely to his leader until the car pulled away. Then he walked swiftly inside.

  The car continued driving west toward Sato's country house. When they arrived, it had stopped raining. Sato stood in front and stared up at the Japanese flag, the red sun on a white background, swinging gently in the breeze from a pole above the house. If he did not act fast, his entire plan could be ruined.

  * * *

  Waiting for Sato to return, Harrison soaked in the natural hot spring half a mile from Sato's house. Usually the water, so hot that steam rose into the air, relaxed him, but not now. He closed his eyes and thought about that day in Shanghai so long ago. Every detail of that morning—November 21, 1949—was indelibly etched in his memory.

  An hour before sunrise, they had come, pounding on the door of the house in which seven-year-old Philip and his mother had been held in house arrest since his father's imprisonment. Petrified, his mother opened it to see half a dozen armed soldiers waiting out front. "You come with us," the officer in charge said.

  "Is it my husband? Will they release him?" she said. "Have they decided it was all a mistake?"

  Her words were met with a stony silence. The two of them were tossed in the back of an army truck with a red star painted on the hood. In the bitter cold of the morning, the boy huddled close to his mother.

  At the gate to the prison, armed guards pushed them forward. As they were hustled up three flights of cracked and decaying concrete stairs, the terrified boy clutched his mother's hand. On the top floor, the guards pushed them out onto a balcony which overlooked the muddy yard in the center of the prison compound. At the far end stood a single wooden post.

  The boy's mouth opened to cry no as he realized what was happening, but he couldn't speak.

  "This is what happens to spies and traitors," an officer said. He gave an order, and another soldier restrained the boy and his mother to stop them from jumping.

  When they led his father from the jail to the post, he walked with resolute dignity—a man of God who had come to China to do the Lord's work as a missionary. A man who had no regrets about how he had spent his life on earth. A man who had no fear of the world to which he was passing.
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br />   They tied him with his back to the post, his face pointed toward the boy and his mother.

  A soldier offered to put a black cover over his head, but he waved the man away. He wanted to face the six soldiers who constituted his firing squad.

  As the order was given—"Ready, aim..."—the boy saw the words forming on his father's lips, "The Lord is my shepherd...." Bullets from six automatic weapons tore into his father's body.

  His mother uttered the most searing, heart-wrenching screams, which the boy often heard in his sleep at night even decades later. But the boy did not cry out. His mouth opened, but not a sound came out.

  Philip and his mother came back to New York to live with her sister and brother-in-law on the Upper East Side. The firing squad might as well have killed her, for she never recovered. She died of a stroke two years later.

  Two young women approached Harrison, holding towels in their hands. "Sato-van has returned and would like you to meet him," one of them said.

  Harrison climbed out of the pool of water and grabbed a towel. Anxious to hear what Sato had learned, he dressed quickly and returned to the house.

  As Sato told him that Fujimura had been present with the prime minister and reported on the meeting, Harrison became more and more disturbed. He was in deep trouble. The decision to extradite Sato was complex and troublesome for Nakamura, but not the decision to extradite Harrison. Nakamura would grant that in a heartbeat.

  Harrison's only chance now was with Sato. He looked at his Japanese ally hopefully, waiting to see how he had responded.

  "I suggested to Nakamura that he invite Taylor to come here along with Cady," Sato said.

  Harrison was incredulous. "To Japan?"

  "I told him that we should have a chance to confront them and answer these baseless charges. Once he hears both sides, I explained to Nakamura, he will have no choice but to reject the demand for our extradition."

  "But I don't understand. They'll ruin both of us."

  "A trap is being laid," Sato said firmly. "We will prevail one way or the other."