Free The Miko - 02 by Eric Van Lustbader

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 if—Buddha 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 dōjō ’s bound to be in turmoil for the next few days at least. Even they need time to gather themselves. They haven’t picked Kusunoki’s successor yet, have they?”
    “There are meetings going on to which I am not privy. As yet there have been no announcements. But tension is high all through the dōjō .”
    “Good. Now is the time to burrow in. Get as close as you dare. Strike in the midst of this confusion; our tactics are more efficient in this atmosphere.”
    “Kusunoki’s death has turned them into alarmists; they see hostiles in the movement of the shadows.”
    “Then be especially bold.”
    “The danger has increased.”
    “And has your dedication to the goals of the Motherland therefore decreased?”
    “I will not waver from the cause; you know that.”
    “Good. Then this conversation is at an end.”
    A light went on atop the scarred metal desk, dim and buzzing, coldly fluorescent, emanating from an ancient khaki gooseneck lamp that had been functionally ugly when new and now was light-years away from that.
    This fitful pale mauve illumination revealed a face no more unusual than an accountant’s or a professor’s. Black eyes above sloped Slavic cheekbones were penetratingly intelligent, to be sure, but his