The 47th Samurai

40

“You’re sure,” said the Shogun.

“As sure as I can be. I told you, Lord, this is a determined and creative adversary. But now we have him.”

“I worry that at the park, it will be difficult to control. It will spill into a mess, and the news stations and the-”

“I will have ten men concealed. They are experts at camouflage. Ninja, almost. Not really, but close. I myself will be there. It’s early, we control access to the park. No one will interfere. Certain suggestions have been made to the police to stay away. It’s very, very early, barely dawn. We control the terrain. He has no choice but to come, if he loves the child, and he loves the child. I saw it in his eyes. At a signal I can get forty more men in the park almost instantly. He has some skill, I admit. But not enough to overcome me and certainly not enough to overcome fifty men. That only happens in movies.”

“Suppose he brings-”

“He can’t. He won’t have time. He cannot locate us until we call him. He will have to travel at extreme speed across Tokyo. We will be watching all the roads as he approaches and will know if he has allies. But he can’t get allies close enough in time. It’s a very solid plan.”

“The child-”

“The child must die. She’s seen too much. It is a small matter. It means nothing.”

“It’s just that I-”

“Lord, it means nothing.”

“Yes, Kondo-san.”

They sat in the living room of the mansion next to Kiyosumi Gardens. It was nearly midnight. Kondo had spent the day going over his preparations. He had his own trained men; he had his kobun Nii, his most trusted fellow, virtually connected by tether to the child; he had forty toughened soldiers from Boss Otani, ready to die for him. No, they weren’t the best and they preferred to fight with Kalashnikov and Makarov than katana and wakizashi, but they would still rather die than yield, and would kill at the drop of a hand. And, if necessary, he had plenty of Kalashnikovs and Makarovs.

Still, the Shogun was nervous, Kondo could tell. He sat there, licking his lips, his face glowing in the light of the fire, swallowing, twitching occasionally, trying to control his nerves. He wasn’t so brilliant at this kind of thing. The Shogun didn’t even need to be there, but he had insisted. Still, regret seemed to cloud his thought.

“I just wish all this hadn’t happened,” he said petulantly. “We are running out of time.”

Pornographer! thought Kondo. There was no point in explaining to him that what happens is what happens. Feelings about what is past are silly; they contribute nothing; one must only look at the now.

“Lord, I have made all the arrangements. The koshirae will be completed in record time. The hard part was the polishing. Getting that done-and I understand the old man did a superb job, maybe his best-was the key. You will have the sword in plenty of time to announce it, to enjoy the prestige and attention, to empower your plans. All the things you desire will be delivered to you, exactly as planned. This unforeseen business-a trouble, I admit-is unfortunate, but we have it under control.”

“The stroke of the child. It was brilliant. We went from losers to winners in that single instant.”

“Strategy is very important.”

“You are a genius, Kondo-san. You will be well rewarded.”

“My service is my reward. But I’ll still take that four million dollars. Tomorrow at this time I will have both my fortune and my opponent’s head. I think I’ll take a nice vacation.”

“Try Los Angeles. I’ll give you some numbers. Fuck some blond white women. Very enjoyable. Once you do, you’ll see why only certain Japanese should be allowed that pleasure. It would corrupt the general public and soon the concept of ‘Japanese’ would be gone! We must protect the sexual powers of our men, the submission of our women, and the purity of our-”

You had to stop him or he’d go on for hours and Kondo wanted a little sleep. “I look forward to it,” he said.

Miwa went to pour himself another Scotch. He watched the amber fluid splash across the ice cubes. Then he raised his eyes and peered out the window, where the many spotlights created an intense and impenetrable zone of illumination.

“Kondo-san,” he said, “look! It’s snowing.”