public with this process?'
'With all due respect, that's partly a political question. If they find out what happened out here, it could be real tough. Maybe impossible. There'll be public outrage.' Herschel gave an inappropriate chuckle. 'Probably a major motion picture.'
'But if they don't find out. And if we find a way to make it harmless-'
'Then you and the company will be heroes. Environmentally and otherwise.'
'You're sure your person got all the pictures?' Kenji looked into the calm blue eyes of Hans Groiter.
'She got the pictures at the photo shop.'
'So what are you saying?'
'We'll have to listen. See if they have a duplicate set. I doubt it. But it's possible.'
'How long till they discover the eavesdropping?'
'No way to know. They haven't talked about the possibility yet.'
'Take the mike out of the bushes,' Kenji said. 'It's too easy to find.'
'We've done that. We have the phone bug and the spike mike under the couch.'
Kenji nodded, and turned to Herschel White. 'When am I going to have a solution? When can I announce the process?'
''We're going as fast as we can. We can't tell the brightest guys about the spill or the problems with the effluent. It's touchy. It's-'
Kenji held up his hand as if weary of the explanations.
Herschel continued anyway. 'I think within two months we should have it.'
'We may not have that long with this pair of lawyers all stirred up.'
''If they still have copies of those pictures they have some tangential evidence of our discovery and indirectly of our little problem,' the lawyer said. ''And proof of what we're really doing if they're smart enough to figure it out.'
'They aren't going to unravel anything,' Groiter said. ''It's an obscure leap from what they've got to understanding our situation. And besides, they probably don't have any pictures anyway.'
'A little thread, if nurtured and pulled, can make a fatal hole in a pair of trousers,'' Kenji said. 'These people, these lawyers, can be determined and therefore deadly. Life can turn into a typhoon when we depart from the ways of tranquillity. These two need to learn that.'
They all understood Kenji Yamada.
Slowly Kenji poured himself the steaming hot sake. It had only required a second five-minute telephone call to the vice president of the railroad for Kim Lee to decide that the railroad would not sell its remaining rights in the property. Worse, Kim wanted to tell Kenji's father-in-law the whole story, including the part about the chemical spill and the bats. Only brute intimidation had kept him quiet to date. When it came down to it, Kim would save his own hide and sacrifice Kenji.
This was the chance of ten lifetimes and Kim had given up without coming up with even one creative plan. Success could advance the Asaka holdings beyond anything that any of them had ever dreamed about. By comparison, the computer giants of America would be midgets.
Kenji wondered about himself-how far he would go to attain his goal. He was a realist, dealing honestly at least with himself. So far, he had stolen and taken two lives. Kim Lee was now nothing but a liability. Kenji had watched the nervous tremor as Kim had wiped his brow. He could feel the man's weakness. Kenji felt as if he were being suffocated by the ineptitude of those around him. And all on the brink of greatness.
In the larger context of the Kuru holding company, Kenji's was a relatively minor post. On a fiscal basis Amada accounted for less than 8 percent of the family's net worth. Still, with the jolting discoveries of the past two years, it seemed possible at last that on his father-in-law's death Kenji might very well take over the parent company. If his ideas proved successful.
As the magnitude of the discovery became apparent, his ambition also grew. Slipping into violence would have seemed unthinkable even five years ago. Ambition had slowly seduced him and now had him in a stranglehold.
If he had not fallen under the spell of Catherine Swanson, his life would have been simpler. Fortunately, Groiter executed a perfect setup with the photographer. A few of the photographer's hairs and some of his semen was all it took. Groiter had been very clever about extracting the man's semen. And about removing from Catherine all traces of Kenji.
Now that he had killed twice, taking a third life (or fourth and fifth) to protect his plan didn't really matter. Getting rid of Kim had side benefits. It was important that someone in the Amada fold suffer violence at the hands of extremists. That would tend to eliminate Amada as a suspect.
Dealing with the fear was the hardest part. All great leaders had to overcome it or it ate them alive. Fear of the derision and ridicule of others was the worst. But he had already learned to live without them. Learned that he didn't need to be in the 'in group.' For just a moment with Catherine Swanson, he had forgotten that lesson. Once he remembered it, he had her anyway. And when he had her, it was without the anxiety-it was the way a man should have a woman. He had felt like a man, not some street scum who had landed in the palace between her thighs.
He stabbed a preprogrammed dialing button. Groiter answered immediately.
'I've been listening to tapes. They still have a set of pictures.'
Kenji's breath hissed like steam from a ruptured boiler. 'Anything else?'
'They've gone to the library. Found articles on the disappearance of Catherine Swanson.'
'Why would they do that?'
'Well, it happened just a month ago, and violence is rare around here, so they're looking for any connection to the person who took their money. Dan Young's got a bulletin board at home, and he's plastering it with stuff just like a good little detective. They're making a list of everybody who lives in the mountains. It's a pretty good profile. I think it's only a matter of time before they add Schneider to their list.'
'We should never have let them in. Never. Make sure you let me know the minute they are on to something that matters.'
'I'll let you know a minute before.'
'I called about another issue.'
'Oh?'
'I will be deeply moved by the death of our associate Kim Lee at the hands of extremist elements.'
There was a long silence, and then an exhale of breath from Groiter. 'Are you sure?'
'He's been talking to Satoru about things that could profoundly affect your retirement.'
'Corey is crazy, but it'll take some doing to get her to pull this off.'
'I didn't say that Schneider actually had to pull the trigger.' But something told Kenji that Groiter would protect himself and the best way to do that was to find someone else with an obvious motive. 'I'm confident you'll think of something. I think it's time you got another bonus.'
There was a steady rhythm like a drumbeat that echoed through his body, deep breaths that sounded like muted snorts, the leather, and the sweat smell. His body floated over the horse, its gallop impeccably regular as he raised the six-foot wooden bow. The target stood to his right at ninety degrees.
The contest took place on a three-foot-wide dirt track about one hundred yards long with three targets equidistant along the run. As the arrow slid from his fingers, he saw the exact spot on the bull's-eye where the arrow would strike. And it did.
The sport was called Yabusame and was conceived by a ninth-century warlord whose family name was Ogasawara. Yoshinari's horse was a big bay girded with the armor of the samurai, as was Yoshinari's own body. Twenty years previous he had been the Yabusame grand national champion of all Japan. As a senior he had held that title in the over-sixty class, five times running. Only a few of the younger men could best him, and only due to their superior physical endurance. They could retain the absolute stillness of mind and body required for perfection over many attempts. Today the crowd bowed and displayed appropriate awe, making him smile inwardly at his vanities.
Finished for the day, he rode back to his stables. As often as possible he held tournaments at his castle, for
