Free Linnear 02 - The Miko by Eric Van Lustbader

face screwed up in contempt. “How could any iteki feel for us, Seiichi, tell me that.”
    “Sit down, old friend,” Sato said softly, taking his eyes off the older man to save him face. “You already hurt enough as it is.”
    Nangi said nothing but, walking awkwardly, managed to sit at right angles to Sato, his back erect, his thin buttocks against the very edge of the chair.
    Sato knew that Nangi was lucky to be alive. But of course life was a relative thing and this thorny enigma was never far from his thoughts, even now after thirty-eight years. Did the man tied to the iron lung think life was worthwhile? So, too, Sato sometimes wished to crawl inside his friend’s head for just the moment it would take to learn the answer to the riddle. And in those moments shame would suffuse him; precisely the same kind of shame he had felt when his older brother, Gotaro, had found him sitting, sexually aroused by their father’s book of shunga, erotic prints.
    There was no privacy in Japan, it was often said. The crowding because of the lack of space that had existed for centuries; the building materialsoiled paper and woodthat the islands’ frequent and devastating earthquakes, the seasonal typhoons dictated be used in order to facilitate speedy rebuilding: these factors went a long way in guiding the flow of Japanese society.
    Because real privacy, as a Westerner understands it, is physically impossible, the Japanese have developed a kind of inner privacy that, outwardly, manifests itself by the many-layered scheme of formality and politeness that each individual lives by because it is his only bulwark against the encroachment of chaos.
    That was why the thought of stepping into someone else’s mind, especially so close a friend, brought the sweat of shame out on Sato. Now he riffled through the file they had compiled on Tomkin Industries in order to cover his intense discomfort.
    “As for Tomkin, we should not underestimate him, Nangi-san,” he said now. Nangi looked up as he heard the note of weariness in the younger man’s voice.
    “How so?”
    “His blustering barbarian ways cannot mask for long his keen mind. He hit us squarely when he said that we’re much too dependent on foreign energy sources to allow ourselves to become isolated from the rest of the world.”
    Nangi waved away Sato’s words. “A mere stab in the dark. The man’s an animal, nothing more.”
    Sato gave a deep sigh. “And yet he’s quite correct. Why else would we be laboring so long and hard on Tenchi, eh? It is something that is critically draining our financial resources; it is the most desperate gamble Japan has taken since Pearl Harbor. In many ways it is more crucial to this country’s future than the war ever was. We were able to rebound from that defeat.” Sato shook his head. “But if Tenchi should fail or ifBuddha forbid!we should be found out, then I fear that there will be nothing left of our beloved islands but atomic ash.”
    “Tsutsumu’s dead, along with Kusunoki.” The voice was flat and cold. It might have been conveying the message, “Here are ten pounds of rice.”
    “Before or after?” By contrast this voice was heavy, thick with foreign inflection. ‘That is the only thing that matters.”
    “Before.”
    There was a muffled curse in a language the first man could not understand. “Are you certain? Absolutely certain?”
    “I was thorough enough to do an anal search. He had nothing on him.” There was a slight pause. “Do you wish me to withdraw?” Still the voice was emotionless, as if all feeling had been trained out of it.
    “Certainly not. Stay just where you are. Any sudden movement on your part could only bring down suspicion and these people are not to be underestimated. They’re fanatics; exceptionally dangerous fanatics.”
    “Yes…I know.”
    “You have your orders; adhere to them. The dojo’s bound to be in turmoil for the next few days at least. Even they need time to gather themselves.