Free The Burma Legacy by Geoffrey Archer Page B

the reporter he’d selected, but it was too late. A pushy television correspondent had stepped forward.
    ‘Mr Kamata. Do you recognise yourself as the same man who tortured British prisoners of war fifty-six years ago? A man for whom the sanctity of British lives was at that time of no significance whatsoever to you?’
    The PR man winced and turned to his client. As the question was translated, the chairman’s only reaction was to blink. Then, staring at some fixed point high up on the far wall, he began his reply. His voice was thin and reedy, the words coming out as a monotone. His answer was brief.
    ‘War changes a man,’ Miss Kimura translated in a strong, clear voice with an American accent. ‘But fortunately once that war is over a man can change back to the way he was before.’
    ‘Did you enjoy torturing British soldiers, Mr Kamata?’ the TV man persisted. There was a growl of ‘oh come on!’ from further back in the room.
    ‘Please,’ the PR interjected, puce-faced, ‘we’re here to talk about the MoU and the rescue of a car factory.’
    Kamata listened to the translation of the question. For a split second there was a flash of anger on his face, then he curbed it and began to speak. He was in control and had every intention of staying that way.
    ‘The war in Burma was indescribably horrible,’ Miss Kimura interpreted, a few seconds later. ‘One hundred and sixty thousand Japanese soldiers died there. It was not something to enjoy. Men on all sides were reduced to the level of animals. But whoever they fought for, they believed that what they did was justified by their cause. Imperial Japanese soldiers hadbeen trained to believe that their race was superior to any other. We were taught that enemy prisoners were sub-humans, not deserving of our respect. I appreciate that for people of your generation it is hard to understand the effect of such a culture and training on young minds. Today we know so much more about the other peoples in the world. We know how wrong those old attitudes were. And if we continue to forge international bonds such as Matsubara’s link with the Walsall Motor Group, then it must surely make it impossible for such terrible things ever to happen again.’
    Sam kept his eyes on Kamata’s face while Miss Kimura did her stuff. The old torturer’s eyes flicked from side to side, gauging the audience’s reaction.
    ‘Now,’ the PR interjected quickly, ‘a question about the MoU please.’ He pointed to a grey-haired industrial correspondent from one of the broadsheets. ‘Bill.’
    ‘How certain is it that this purchase of Walsall Motors will be completed, Mr Kamata? Is there a danger that once you study the books you’ll decide to pull out?’
    Safer ground. But Sam had been impressed by the old man’s blocking of the TV man’s bouncers.
    ‘It is our firm intention to complete the purchase,’ came the stolid reply. ‘We are not anticipating any unsolvable problems.’
    A string of industrial questions followed, mostly about job numbers and guarantees that the company would stay in Britain if the going got tough. Thereplies were vague, citing the unpredictability of the market.
    ‘Time for just one more …’
    The reporter who raised his hand identified himself as a representative of The Times . ‘This is your first ever visit to London, I believe, Mr Kamata. While you’re here, will you be taking the opportunity to meet any of the former British soldiers you maltreated? To ask their forgiveness? I’m thinking in particular of Mr Peregrine Harrison.’
    At the mention of that name Kamata flinched. His reply was a single word, uttered in English before the translator could take breath.
    ‘No.’
    The chairman stood up. His entourage encircled him protectively.
    ‘Thank you gentlemen – and ladies,’ the PR muttered. ‘That’s the end of this press conference.’
    Cocooned by his staff, Kamata was swept from the room. Most of the press had their heads together,