His schooner of ale was half-gone when the gentlemen he’d come to meet stepped onto the deck. For a minute, they looked around, and then they spotted him.
They approached with the measured tread of hunters following the track of a wounded leopard. Did they know something or were they just being cautious?
They stopped a few feet away and the one he knew only as the driver said, “Mr. White?”
“Yes.”
He held up the card that John had given him earlier. “The same Mr. White that works for the Blalock Security Agency?”
He was fishing. John didn’t nibble. “The same.”
“Curious company, the Blalock Agency. It seems there are several employees listed in the state register, but they are all named John.”
“What a coincidence,” he said and took a sip from the schooner.
“There also seems to be no evidence of employees except on the state register. It would seem, to an honest businessman such as myself that the Blalock Agency has something to hide.”
“Nonsense, the agency is strictly a legitimate enterprise. I am merely ... an honest businessman.”
The driver stared down at him for a few seconds then made the slightest of bows, nothing more than a tip of his head really. His associate pulled out a chair and sat down.
The driver continued, “Very well. Let me introduce Mr. Ichiro Hosokawa.”
Hosokawa’s head tilt was more of a lowering of eyebrows than anything approaching a level of courtesy. No one would have seen it except the person he was facing at close range. If the Japanese still used head bows as a symbol of respect, he wasn’t awarding John much.
“Please to meet you,” John responded automatically and gave him a slightly deeper eyebrow dip. His driver took it as an insult. At least, that was John’s impression from the man’s low growl. “Have your man sit. He will draw attention if he stands at your side while we talk.”
Hosokawa made a simple movement with his left hand. The driver bowed, tilting until John thought he might fall over. Then the driver straightened quickly and walked to a point on the rail where he could watch them while he appeared to be studying the sea lions on the jetty.
“Mr. White,” Hosokawa began. “You represent a Ms. Caitlin Maxwell–”
“My agency,” John interrupted.
“Pardon?”
“My agency. The Blalock Security Agency has Ms. Maxwell as a client.”
“There’s a difference?” Hosokawa asked.
“Of course,” John answered. “We don’t normally give out that kind of information, but since we registered a contract with Ms. Maxwell it would be foolish of me to deny it. However, I make no claims to being the person handling her case.”
Hosokawa stewed on that for a few seconds while keeping his face a death mask. His English was excellent, with little of the accent so well publicized in the old movies. “Very well, we’ll play the game your way, Mr. White. Your client has something that we would like to purchase.”
“I see,” he said, not seeing at all. “And what would that be?”
“If she hasn’t told you what it is, then I see no reason to tell you myself. Employees do not need to know the business of their employers. You can tell Ms. Maxwell that we are prepared to negotiate a price for the item in question.”
John took a sip from his beer and gazed off toward the driver. “I suppose she might be willing to sell it, not that I can guarantee anything.”
“Of course,” he agreed. “I am just requesting that you relay our offer. I am sure she would be most satisfied with our negotiations.”
John nodded slightly. “Really? Well then, I’ll definitely let her know what you’ve said. Do you have an initial bid?”
His mask cracked. “Pardon?”
“An initial bid. You know the drill. She has something you want. She’s placing it up for bid. You make an offer; the other interested parties make their offers. She goes with the highest bidder.”
Hosokawa frowned. “We have no intention of getting into a bidding war, Mr. White. We are prepared to pay handsomely for what has come into her possession, but there are limits to everything.”
“I don’t think so,” John snapped. “You aren’t the only interested party Mr. Hosokawa. As an honest businessman, you know that price is governed by demand. In this case, it seems that demand is high, so we expect an equivalently high price.”
Hosokawa’s mask slid back into place as he thought over John’s words. “Mr. White, I can see you are a businessman of some intelligence. This thing in Ms. Maxwell’s possession came to her through no fault of her own. She didn’t design it, buy it, or steal it. It has simply been left in her care. We have already paid well for the delivery of this item and are not interested in seeing it end up in someone else’s hands.”
“So you are saying this ... this thing belongs to you. It’s something you paid for and are still awaiting delivery.”
“Exactly.”
“You know the NCIX is interested in this thing?”
Hosokawa’s attention sharpened. John might as well have waved a steak in front of a pit bull.
“No,” Hosokawa said. “What business would they have with it?”
“I can’t answer that. I’d like to, really I would, but you can see that with the Feds involved, I, as a legitimate businessman, would have to turn it over to them until they determine proper and legal ownership.”
The tension in Hosokawa became a physical force that insinuated itself into his words. “Mr. White, we have worked long and hard for this device. My partners are not tolerant of failure when they have invested so much time and money. As one businessman to another, I am sure you can see our
