by Morris West
‘It’s not much of a choice, is it?’ The Georgian was sour. ‘Either we accept the crooks and let ‘em cut our throats afterwards, or we give back the Kurils and sign an exploiters’ contract over our own natural resources.’
‘Or we forget the whole thing,’ said Boris Vannikov, ‘and try to muddle through with what we’ve got.’
‘Which isn’t very much,’ said Tanya sharply. ‘Today’s news is the Germans are sending us the surplus food they’ve had in store since we blockaded Berlin, and there’s rationing in Leningrad, Moscow and other major cities. So, what’s your best advice, Mr Gil Langton?’
‘You heard it tonight, when I was paying my golf debt to Tanaka. I was quoting his own words: “The game isn’t over until the last shot on the last hole. “ There’s a lot of money on the table; black or white, it’s money. There’s a lot of open ground to be covered before either side is forced to a last ditch stand. I’d say keep talking, keep working on Moscow to offer terms and concessions that will attract more reputable investors to bolster the ones Carl Leibig has brought in. Meantime, leave the money on the table. What more can I say?’
‘Nothing, I guess,’ said Lavrenti.
‘I think you’ve earned another drink,’ said Boris Vannikov.
‘I’ll pour it.’ Tanya slid off the bed and rumpled my hair as she passed. ‘He looks so damn benign but he’s as shrewd as an Armenian carpet peddler.’
It was after midnight and I was slightly less than sober when I got back to our guest house. The lamp on my side of the bed was turned down to low power. Marta was sound asleep, the covers half thrown back to reveal her naked breast and the curve of her thigh. Her hair made an aureole on the pillow and she was smiling as if at some pleasant dream. I undressed, went to the bathroom and made ready to slip into bed beside her.
It was then that I noticed the fragrance. Marta herself always used one with the faint, fresh smell of lemon blossom. This one was heavy and musky and it clung to the fabric of the pillow and the coverlet. I crawled carefully into bed, shivering at the cold touch of the covers. There was warmth only a hand’s reach away, but I could not bring myself to seek it. Marta stirred and murmured in her sleep. I could not respond. I switched out the light and lay staring up into the darkness, lapped in the cloying fragrance of Miko’s perfume.
I prayed that tomorrow would come and go quickly. I wanted no more arguments, no more discussions, no more protestations. I was too old and too cynical for the games they played in the world of flowers and willows. Besides, the fox-woman was inside the house now and I was full of fear.
At seven in the morning, while Marta was still asleep, I was in Carl Leibig’s office making phone calls. The first was to Sir Pavel Laszlo in Sydney. We spoke in Hungarian, in case of leaks on the satellite channel. He listened in silence, then burst into a stream of colourful obscenities. He would meet me in Bangkok on Saturday. We would try to work up emergency plans before the others arrived. I told him I needed a first rate PR girl to administer the press office. He said he had the best in the country. He would bring her with him. Then he told me: ‘Keep those two bastards out of Bangkok, even if you have to hang ’em on hooks in a cold store. If the press gets a whiff of that story, we’re all dead. How’s Carl Leibig behaving?’
‘Very well. Much better than I expected.’
‘And Marta?’
‘Has developed a big crush on Miko.’
‘Dear God!’ Laszlo swore again, volubly. ‘This we need like the Black Death.’
At seven forty-five Franz delivered me a manila envelope filled with photostats of press cuttings. I locked it in my briefcase, then went to breakfast with Leibig and Tanaka. I gave them a full account of my evening with Vannikov and the Georgian and, in response to a question from Tanaka, offered my personal conclusion.
‘They’re in a cleft stick. They don’t like the association with Cubeddu and Hoshino. On the other hand, they need money and action very quickly. The whole situation in the Soviet Union gets worse as winter gets closer. I explained your dilemma. I was open about your hopes. I recommended that Vannikov and his team work through the conference in Bangkok and see how far Moscow will bend on the Kurils or any other concessions that might bring the keiretsu to your side. I believe that’s the course they’ll recommend to Moscow.’
‘So, we have a breathing space.’
‘You may get more if you handle the conference this morning the right way.’
Which is?’
‘Admit the money connection is tainted. Take the trouble to explain the problem, but lean on the fact that with their co-operation you may yet provide better allies. Meantime, I’m leaving for Tokyo in an hour.’
Tanaka gave me a swift, suspicious look. ‘Why? We may need you here.’
‘I don’t think you realise, but no work has been done to set up the press office in Bangkok. I’ll have to see to that today and tomorrow.’
‘That’s true, but…’
‘Also, I think you need me out of here. So long as I hang around, I can’t avoid some commerce with Cubeddu and Hoshino. That, believe me, will make a bad impression with Vannikov and his political officer, not to mention the interpreter, who is also a Moscow monitor. And one other thing: no way in the world can Cubeddu or Hoshino be seen in Bangkok. The money front must be represented by you as a Japanese banker and by Forster as lead name for the European funds. You must trust me in this.’
Carl Leibig added a persuasive voice. ‘He’s right, Kenji. We can’t take any risks at the big event. I am still far from happy, but I would not be here with you now if Gil had not persuaded me that a change was possible.’
‘Why,’ asked Tanaka dramatically, ‘why am I cast as the villain of the piece?’
The answer to that came tripping off my tongue. ‘Because that’s the way you yourself constructed the script. Carl didn’t write it. I didn’t. You just handed us the lines and demanded that we play them. Well, we’re doing our best, but we can’t work miracles.’
He gave a non-committal grunt and changed the subject. ‘The helicopters won’t be here until four this afternoon. How will you get back to Tokyo?’
‘By train. Franz can drive me to the station.’
‘Is your woman going with you?’
‘No. Carl needs to work with her on her presentation for Bangkok.’
I prayed Leibig would not miss the cue. He picked it up instantly. That’s right. She made a good impression on the Russians yesterday. I’d like to build on that. Her economic and historic arguments will take some of the curse off the Cubeddu/Hoshino provenance.’
‘It’s your decision, of course.’ Tanaka seemed to have lost interest. ‘Call me if you need me, Gil. I’m staying in Tokyo until Sunday. Otherwise, I’ll see you in Bangkok.’
When he had gone, Carl Leibig poured more coffee for us both and asked: ‘Woman trouble?’
‘Double trouble. Miko and Marta.’
Leibig frowned unhappily and shook his head from side to side in disbelief. ‘I don’t understand the game Miko is playing. She likes men; she likes women; that’s one thing, but here she is meddling in a ten-billion-dollar deal. I cannot believe that Tanaka doesn’t see it.’
‘I think he sees only one half of it. I’m sure he’s been using Miko as the go-between with both the Yakuza and the Mafia. She has a whole network of contacts on the West Coast, here in Tokyo and, I suspect, in the Philippines and other places. With that she serves Tanaka’s interests. But she also serves her own.’
‘How?’
‘What happens to her when Tanaka dies?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve never asked.’
‘Whatever provision he has made, it will not equal what she has now. Once the family takes over, she is finished in the Tanaka Group. So, my guess is that she’s working for Cubeddu and Hoshino as well. Her contacts, her intimacy with Tanaka, his increasing dependence on her, double her market value to them. What does the Bible say? “Make friends with the followers of Mammon, so th
at when you fail, they receive you into their houses.” ’
‘And Marta? Where does she fit in?’
‘One more lover, one more ally for Miko.’
‘Are you sure that’s all?’
‘No, but for all our sakes I hope so. If there’s more, we’re up to our necks in a cesspool. That’s why I’ve got to get the hell out of here and back to Tokyo. I need some other allies, and I think you do, too.’
‘Who, for instance?’
‘When I know, I’ll tell you, Carl. That’s the best I can do. I also have obligations to Tanaka. I can’t abdicate those either. One question: do you trust Franz?’
‘We’ve been together fourteen years.’
‘I guess that’s a good enough answer. I’ll be ready to leave in thirty minutes.’
‘What are you going to tell Marta?’
‘I have work in Tokyo. You need her here.’
‘And in Bangkok?’
‘You lodge her away from me.’
‘I’ll see to it. This is hard for you, Gil’.
‘I’m afraid it’s going to be harder for her in the end. I must run. I want ten minutes with Vannikov before I pack.’
I found him just at the end of his jogging circuit round the golf course. He told me he was working off his hangover. I told him I was going back to Tokyo and I needed the answer to three questions.
‘Let’s hear them.’
‘How badly does Moscow want this deal?’
‘Almost, but not quite enough to buy the present package.’
‘If it had more orthodox components, big name bankers and such?’
‘Then I’m almost sure it would be agreed in Bangkok.’
‘I’m going back to Tokyo to put together the elements of our press office. How many people do you want to provide?’
‘Just one. I’ll move Tanya in there. I’ll supervise her output. What about your people?’
We’ll have Marta on the political side. Laszlo, to whom I’ve just spoken, is flying in his best PR girl to run the administration. I’ve got a meeting in Tokyo with Alex Boyko of Associated Press. I’m almost sure he’ll come himself. That’s all we really need: one good Bureau man with the right outlets. Are you content to let me handle that part?’
‘Sure. I confess to you, Gil, I’m scared. Things are so bad at home, worse than any of the press reports. This is a ten-billion-dollar aid package with a fatal flaw in it. We need the money, God knows! We need everything else that’s offered, but the thugs will strangle the deal.’
‘Keep hammering that into Tanaka’s head when you meet this morning. Leibig and I will be doing our best to change things.’
‘Why do you care so much, Gil?’
‘Because I hate being screwed by people I don’t like.’
‘Reason enough,’ said Boris with a grin. ‘And talking of screwing, you’ve made quite a hit with Tanya. If you’d like to take her off my hands …’
I answered him with a laugh I did not feel. ‘Thanks, but no thanks. I’ve got more than enough problems. I’ll see you in Thailand, my friend.’
I left him to finish his run while I walked swiftly back to the guest house to tell Marta I was leaving. I found her naked in the bathroom, drying her hair with an electric blower. I kissed her, because I was still fool enough to desire her and cynic enough to complete the last rituals of deception. She reproached me mildly.
‘Why didn’t you wake me when you came in last night?’
‘Be glad I didn’t, schatzi. I wasn’t exactly sober.’
‘And why not this morning?’
‘I hated to wake you. I’ve been up since six-thirty. I leave for Tokyo in thirty minutes.’
‘But why? I thought today was to be the big event.’
‘It still is; but my job was done last night. Now I have to organise the press office for Bangkok and set a few of my own affairs in order.’
‘Can I come with you?’
‘I’m afraid not. Carl wants you here.’
‘That’s a bore.’
‘I know. I’m sorry. What did you do with yourself last night?’
‘Nothing very exciting, but it was fun just the same. Tanaka wasn’t well. He went to bed early. Miko came over here. She brought a pack of Japanese cards and she taught me a game called hanafuda. We sat up in bed like schoolgirls and played. We hoped you’d be back in time to have a drink with us. Miko left about eleven-thirty. I fell asleep. I didn’t even hear you come in. What time was it?’
‘About a quarter to one, I think. You’d better finish dressing. I’ll pack.’
‘Gil?’
‘What?’
‘You’re not angry with me, are you?’
‘About what?’
‘Miko.’
‘Why should I be angry? Didn’t we agree yesterday that I would never try to hold you? You’re still the bird on my open hand, singing happy songs; at least, I hope they’re happy.’
She lifted her head in a swift defiance. ‘Yes, they are. They’re very, very happy.’
It was only then that I remembered to ask her the meaning of the riddle she had put to me the previous day: what will you do, I wonder, when the white crow turns to black?
‘Oh, that!’ She gave a small, embarrassed laugh. ‘It was a phrase my mother used to use. One of her producers, I remember, was a great gambler. Whenever they played in a town with a casino, he would spend the whole night at the tables. Every night he knew he was going to be lucky. Almost every night he lost. My mother used to shake her head mournfully and say: “Rudi, will you never learn? A lucky man is as rare as a white crow.” You’re lucky, Gil, I know you are; but I wonder what you’ll be like if the luck runs out?’
I could not tell her that I was just embarking on a venture which would test my luck to the limit.
Ten
I was back in Tokyo at two in the afternoon. I went straight to my office and telephoned the Australian Ambassador. Our conversation was brief. I told him he might get a call from the Americans to check on my character and my security rating, if any. He promised to classify me A1 at Lloyds. I thanked him and told him I would try to keep him out of gaol too. Then I called Max Wylie at the United States Embassy.
‘Mr Wylie, this is Gil Langton. We have a mutual friend, Marta Boysen.’
‘A pleasure to hear from you, Mr Langton.’
‘Thank you. I’ve just left Marta in Nara. She’s working there with Carl Leibig’s team, as she told you.’
‘She did mention she might be going out of town.’ I noted the instinctive caution of the reply. ‘What can I do for you, Mr Langton?’
‘Marta did express the thought that she would like to bring us together. I think this might be an opportune moment. Would you be free for a drink this evening? Say, five-thirty at the Seiyo Ginza. I have a suite there, we can be quite private.’
‘Is this business or pleasure, Mr Langton?’
‘Let’s say the liquor’s honest and the talk should be interesting.’
‘I’ll look forward to it. Five-thirty at the Seiyo Ginza.’
So, the die was cast and I was back once more in a world through which I had walked briefly but without any sense of attachment or real commitment. Strangely enough, it was my father, that most liberal and free-spirited of men, who had first introduced me into the demi-monde of spooks and snoopers and sundry intrigues and guardians of buried secrets. We were in Canberra, the Commonwealth capital of Australia. We were lunching with the Governor-General, who was an old friend of my father and who wanted to honour his retirement. I was well launched by then. Polyglot Press was making a sound profit. I had flown home from London to be with the old man for the closing ceremonies of his academic career and then to take him marlin fishing among the northern stretches of the Great Barrier Reef.
Among the guests at the luncheon was another of my father’s friends who turned out to be the director of the Australian Security Intelligence Service. My father, as fathers do, had made a hymn of praise about my acc
omplishments as a linguist. The director offered me a job. I declined. He asked me would I be open to occasional assignment; for example, as an observer or consultant to diplomatic or trade missions. That seemed innocuous enough, but my agreement led me into some strange byways. My training provided me with a certain professional status which might help in my encounter with Max Wylie.
I was just settling down to a little quiet tactical planning when Tanizaki came in almost at a gallop. Had I heard the news? What news? Matsushita had just bought out the US entertainment giant Universal-MCA with all its associated enterprises, for six point one billion dollars! This was big money in any financial language. Following on the Sony purchase of Columbia, it meant that the Japanese now had control of two of the major elements in worldwide popular entertainment. The size of the deal, which obviously had been constructed in typical style from many interlocking interests, explained the reluctance of the keiretsu to pour risk money into long-term development in the now unstable Soviet Union. It also made me ask how and why Tanaka’s own thinking was directed westward into the heartland of Eurasia, rather than eastward to the mainland of the United States, where the Japanese Imperium was already well established on the foundations of old-style American capitalism.
We talked for a little while; then I asked Tanizaki to bring me a copy of our presentation volume The Gift of Tongues. It was a handsome piece of work, a combination of all the arts of book making, ancient and modern: typography, design, binding, colour printing, paper manufacture, photography … It contained a historical account of the development of Polyglot Press and examples of its work in all the languages in which we published. It had won us many awards and a lot of business and I confess I was inordinately proud of it. I was proudest of all of the epigraph which my father had chosen and which was repeated in translation in every alphabet. It was from Milton’s Areopagitica, which may seem to you to be a very strange and English thing to preface a multilingual book, but which somehow sits well in the minds of all readers. ‘A good book is the precious life-blood of a master spirit, embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life.’