a twenty-digit password. E-mail the encrypted file. Courier the password on a single piece of paper directly to me and show it to no one. I will show the report only to our attorneys. If I didn't need someone over there on an immediate basis, I would recall you. Do you understand?'
'Yes.' It was the reply of a beaten man.
Yoshinari made few errors, but sending Satoru had been one of them. He instantly saw Satoru's foolish game-a transparent attempt to have Kenji removed so that he could be advanced. But Yoshinari also knew that his daughter might not disapprove of a plan designed to test her husband's fidelity.
As for Kenji's secret project, perhaps Kenji saw honor in surprise and in solitary accomplishment. It was the American way, not the Japanese way. For the Japanese, making many work as one was the highest honor, and the honor went to all.
As he wondered how hard he should search for Kenji's tapping spot, Yoshinari realized he had already made a decision. He knew people from all walks of life. He knew political leaders, he knew business leaders, and he had access to those who served them. But even with his great wealth, it was favors owed him by the emperor's family that would get him what his money could not buy. The emperor had access to the most trusted men of the shadows. These men could blend into a crowd, slip into a bank vault, disappear in the night, kill with a single blow. They were as wise as serpents and much more dangerous. They fought only to protect those who hired them or to save an innocent life.
But when they fought, they fought to win and they fought well.
Yoshinari not only needed such a man, but he required one. One who was schooled in the ways of the Americans and who spoke English.
Using all the political capital he had accumulated in a lifetime of fortune-making, he had his man within forty-eight hours. A day after that, the man Shohei was off to the United States. Although ' 'shohei'' meant' 'giant,'' his height was normal, his body highly conditioned and wiry. Someone needed to determine what mischief Kenji might yet have in mind.
9
Dan Young's house was a large, comfortable rambler surrounded on the back and sides by towering redwoods that made it seem miniature in comparison. Located on a large piece of property at the end of a wooded road, the four-bedroom dwelling appeared secluded from neighboring homes.
As they made their way up the front walk, Maria studied the illuminated shrubbery. Weeds had sprung up among the rock roses and the rhododendrons. One of the azaleas was dead and another appeared on its last legs. There was a splendid dogwood in the middle of the front yard. It had probably been Tess who took care of the gardening, she surmised.
The back door opened into the family room and the kitchen. They walked in and Dan tossed his hat like a Frisbee. It sailed about five feet onto a prong of a large coatrack.
She glanced at him. 'Impressive.'
Dan nodded at a large dark-haired woman. 'I discovered her,' Dan said with his arms flung wide in Pepacita's direction. 'The all-purpose live-in mother.'
The big woman turned from whatever she was cooking. ''I get more buenos than most wives.'' Her lively dark brown eyes appraised Maria with obvious curiosity.
Maria smiled and shook Pepacita's hand.
''You and Dan look like you fell on hard times?'' Pepacita asked.
Maria smoothed her tattered and stained clothing.
'I must look awful.'
'I told her we would pull some of Tess's clothes out of the closet,' Dan said.
'Ah, comprendo. I will see what I can find.'
'We're dying of hunger. How about something to gnaw on while we wait for dinner?'
Pepacita nodded and whisked out some smoked salmon; then as fast as any chef, she sliced a couple of hothouse-ripened tomatoes and garnished them with crumbled Feta cheese. Dan disappeared for a couple of minutes and reappeared in jeans.
Each taking a plate, they moved to the couch, where Dan sat at one end and Maria the other. After a few genuine compliments about the house, Maria turned earnest.
'So what do we do with these documents?'
''For the moment keep it in your purse,'' Dan said. ''We'll figure out where to put it after dinner.'
'I need to use your phone. I've got to call my mom and my boyfriend. Late as it is, they'll think I died.'
'Right there,' Dan said, pointing to the phone in the family room.
Her mother was easy. In that special tone that said 'I'm really tied up,' Maria told her mother that she would call her in the morning.
'Hey, you,' she said to Ross, glancing at Dan out of the comer of her eye. Thankfully, he rose to leave but not without a little knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. She recalled liking his mustache. She knew she looked uncomfortable and tried not to. Can't pull it off.
Dan disappeared down the hall.
'I got hung up. It was a real adventure.'
'What do you mean?'
'Don't sound so worried. I'm sorry I didn't call. I'm just fine. I was out in the woods and I ended up in an industry laboratory and it's a very long story. I can't tell you now. It would take too long. I'll call you first thing tomorrow.'
'You're at the Palmer Inn?'
'No, I'm staying with some friends.'
'Do I know them?'
'It's a lady named Pepacita, and a fellow named Dan Young.'
'Why do I know that name?'
'Sometimes he handles environmental cases. Ross, I know this is really going to sound strange to you, but you have to trust me here. He's the lawyer for Otran Enterprises.'
'That Dan Young? Why the hell would you-'
'Calm down. It's one night. There are a lot of people here and there is a good reason.'
'Does this Dan Young know what I don't get to know?'
'Don't say it like that. It's attorney-client privilege for him too.'
'Oh great, some industry asshole…'
'Wait, wait, I can see this is going to be a thing. I will get permission from Patty to tell you ninety percent of this. Hey, I don't even know all of it. Dan Young's not telling me what I'd like to know.'
'When can we talk?'
'Tomorrow. I promise.' She hung up.
Not so mysteriously, Dan reappeared.
'Do you always eavesdrop?'
'Only when vital national-security interests are at stake.' His eyes were bright, but he betrayed only a hint of a smile.
'I'm not laughing.'
'Well then, I guess I won't, either. Hey, Pepacita, how are we doing on the clothes?'
'I will show Maria to the clothing and the shower. Nate's in his room. Supposedly in bed, but probably reading under the covers with a flashlight.'
'Excuse me, I'm going to check on my son,' said Dan.
'Surely.'
The kitchen was redolent with the aroma of home cooking, of spices simmering slowly on long, lazy afternoons-garlic, cloves, onions: a potpourri of smells. Pans of all sizes hung on a wrought-iron frame suspended above the island stove. Racks laden with a wide assortment of spices perched in long rows behind the cooktop. A
