you. To kill is the last move; I wasn't ready for it.'
'Are you ready now?'
'No,' the daimyo said, and smiled, 'but I am ready to discuss the possibilities of cooperation. You two gentlemen are from Amsterdam, Holland, and Holland interests me. I have been to your city twice, as a tourist, and I liked its atmosphere and location. Many of my countrymen are settled there now and are delighted. Of all the cities I have visited I like Amsterdam and Kyoto best. Kobe is my own city, and I spend a lot of my time either in Kobe or in my house in the Rokko mountains close by, but I prefer the peace of Kyoto and the harmony of Amsterdam. I have done my best to extend my organization so that it would include Amsterdam, but things have gone badly. Not everything can be foreseen. My friend Nagai was shot by my employee Fujitani, a harmless man who didn't have the courage to speak back to his own wife. How could I have known that the harmless man would plot and execute a murder, and be caught, and expose, by his muddled ways, plans which were totally disconnected from the death of Nagai? And yet that is exactly what happened. A frightened girl made accusations and the police arrested my lieutenant and all his men. The art and drugs connections were opened up and broken; two of my Kobe men who were enjoying a simple vacation landed up in jail.' The daimyo looked up and stared at the sky. The small plane was still circling and he spoke into the microphone. The plane banked and headed for the hills.
'Yes,' the commissaris said. 'You lost business. But you might have lost it anyway. Our organization works, perhaps, like yours and we became aware of your activity.'
The daimyo looked at his watch, a large flat watch strapped to a solid gold chain which circled his hairy wrist. The commissaris sat back and rubbed his hands. He had enjoyed his day, cruising around the lake. They had taken their food with them from the inn and had lunched in the launch, anchored in the shelter of the shore. Most of the time they had been able to see de Gier's cutter through their binoculars for its sails stood out against the soft colors of the lake and the island. He hadn't worried when the cutter had disappeared for he expected the sergeant to spend some time on the island. He hadn't been worried about the daimyo's next move either. If the daimyo had wanted to kill either himself or the sergeant he had plenty of possibilities, so why do it on Lake Biwa? Everything was still going according to plan, his plan and the daimyo's plan, but their lines of reasoning and consequent activity had now met. Maybe the charade with the launch with Dorin and his Snow Monkey lieutenant and the submachine guns hadn't been necessary, although some show of force on their side might help to make the right impression.
He smiled at Yuiko, who had knelt down next to the daimyo and who was frowning with concentration, ready to instantly translate the next flood of words which the daimyo might utter in his heavy rumbling voice. He hadn't been able to visualize the enemy's general before. He had suspected, perhaps because of the practical jokes with the mask and the theater and the flies, that the daimyo might look like an evil wizard, a necromancer with a high pointed hat and a gown reaching to the floor and a staff with a bat's head for a knob. But the man looked fairly ordinary. If it hadn't been for the eyebrows he would have looked like many men the commissaris had met in the streets of Tokyo and Kyoto. A director of a commercial firm or a lawyer or even a doctor perhaps.
'So the game is stalled,' the commissaris said, and Yuiko translated. 'What do you suggest we all do now?'
The setting sun burst through a dip in the hills surrounding the lake and the daimyo's face was suddenly lit up. He closed his eyes and smiled widely, enjoying the warmth spreading over his face. 'Go home,' he said leisurely. 'Let's all go home. It's been a good day but nothing lasts and we need a meal and a rest. I would like to invite you gentlemen to a party at my house in the Rokko Mountains. It's hard to find so I will send a car. The car will take you to the airport and a plane will get you to us in half an hour. We have a private airport close by. Today is Wednesday, how about Friday night? The car can pick you up at your inn at four in the afternoon?'
Dorin's lips were still a narrow line in his face. 'A party?' he asked flatly.
'Yes. And you can all stay the weekend. I think we should have time to talk. The business you have interfered with is very profitable. We can help you buy at this end and you can sell at your end, in Holland and in the other European countries. Dorin-san has proved himself in many ways during the last weeks. He can be the communication officer. You have been winning for some time now but nobody wins forever. If we join forces our chances will increase.'
'A fusion,' the commissaris said, and offered the daimyo a cigar from his flat tin. The daimyo struck a match and the two old men bent toward each other.
'A party,' de Gier said. 'Will your musicians from the Golden Dragon bar be at the party too?'
'Surely,' the daimyo said. 'You like jazz, don't you?'
'Sometimes,' de Gier said. 'Your musicians are very good.'
'They have had a lot of practice and they are talented,' the daimyo said. 'I like jazz myself. I heard them play on a ship once. We were on a cruise. They said they would like to settle in Kyoto, that was some years ago. Since then they have played in our bars and nightclubs and they are well known now. Yes, they will be at the party and I am sure they will do their very best.'
'I'd like to go,' the commissaris said to Dorin. Dorin bowed. He was looking at the daimyo. His eyes glittered and his hand on the machine pistol's grip twitched.
'Don't bother to bring your arms,' the daimyo said, and waved at the cutter, which turned and began to sail toward the two tied-up boats. 'We are honorable people. You will be our guests until the moment we return you to your inn. If you disagree with our suggestions you will still be our guests. The yakusa believe in friendship.' He put his hand on Yuiko's forearm. 'Jin-gi.'
'Jin-gi,' Yuiko said. 'The daimyo wants you to hear the word in Japanese. It means more than friendship.'
The daimyo's thick index finger was tracing the characters in the air. 'Jin-gi,' he said again. 'Dorin-san will be able to explain it to you. A most important word. You have shown us that you know the idea behind the word.'
He bowed to de Gier. 'You saved the life of a yakusa girl.'
He turned heavily and bowed to the commissaris. 'If you hadn't dressed Kono's wound he might have lost his hand. Our doctor said so. Kono isn't a healthy man; microbes can catch him easily.'
The cutter came alongside and the daimyo got up and grabbed the rope on the sailboat's foredeck. The young man who had been pushed overboard by de Gier came aboard the fishing boat.
'Perhaps we should all return in our own boats,' the daimyo suggested.
There were bows and smiles. Dorin smiled too, but his eyes still glittered.
\\ 26 /////
'Aha,' the Commissaris said, and readjusted the sash of his striped kimono. 'That was an excellent meal, sergeant, and it was an excellent day too.' He grinned delightedly and got up. They had been eating in their room and the two maids had just cleared the table. They had left a full coffeepot and two cups and cleaned the ashtray. The room was spotless as usual, and the soft colors of the tatamis blended with the evening light coming in through the open balcony doors.
'I am glad you feel well, sir. I thought the day on the water would have affected your legs.' The sergeant was lying flat on his back, his head resting on his clasped hands. He had found the commissaris in the bathroom when he came back, after having dropped Yuiko off at her apartment. She had asked him in but he had excused himself, promising to phone the next day to make arrangements for picking her up for the daimyo's party. He had been sure that the commissaris would be in pain, but the old man had been singing in the wooden bathtub, only pausing long enough to ask de Gier to light a cigar for him.
'No. I feel fine,' the commissaris said. He had opened the door of the cupboard and rolled out his matress. 'These hard little pillows are really very comfortable once you get used to them.' He knocked the pillow into shape and lay down. 'You pour the coffee, sergeant, I am not going to do anything anymore. How did you like me waving that machine pistol? Did I look dangerous?'
De Gier grinned. 'You looked deadly, sir.'
'Yes,' the commissaris said, sitting up to accept the cup. 'I always wanted to say, 'I'll pump you full of lead.' It's such an idiotic statement to make. Why don't you ask Dorin to come over, maybe we can cheer him up. He
