Japantown by Barry Lancet

Author:Barry Lancet [Lancet, Barry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9781451691696
Amazon: 1451691696
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2013-09-03T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 41

HE was a hundred ten pounds of brittle bone and sagging yellow flesh bundled up in an Italian suit and a chrome-plated wheelchair that seemed to swallow him whole. His hands lay like dead fish under a scarlet lap cloth.

Fifteen minutes after my abduction, the limousine had rolled up to a redbrick neoclassical edifice built in the early 1900s and I was handed over to a more presentable pair of private bodies in blue suits, silk ties, and cologne. The second guard ushered me into a gloomy, high-vaulted room lathered in textured wallpaper, plush carpeting, and floor-to-ceiling velvet drapery—all in scarlet. Overhead, a silver chandelier added the final touch. It was a concept of Old Russian or European elegance that Japan’s powermongers of generations past had embraced for their parlors.

“I hope you’ll excuse the dimness of the room,” my unknown host said. “Bright light hurts my eyes.”

Not knowing whom I was dealing with, I remained silent. All interior lighting had been extinguished in favor of a dim illumination courtesy of a north-facing window overlooking a shaded rock garden. I’d been in midnight power outages with more light.

“Please have a seat, Brodie-san.”

“Thank you, ah . . . forgive me, I don’t know your name.”

“All in good time.”

Though evasive replies were second nature for men of his make, the answer displeased me. It was cagey and heralded anything but a fruitful meeting. With reluctance, I dropped into a stuffed armchair across the room, the only seat in the spacious parlor not on wheels. Between us lay an oversize coffee table chosen, no doubt, to maintain distance. Seeking a clearer view of the man before me, my eyes struggled to adjust to the daytime dimness.

“I apologize for the suddenness of my summons. Allow me to offer you some refreshment. Fresh juice? Coffee, beer, whiskey?”

Two female attendants hovered nearby, attentive to my answer. Their kimonos were silk and expensive, their manner solicitous but lacking the effortless grace of the highly trained.

“Nothing, thank you.”

Hearing my reply, the kimonoed servants bowed and retreated. The scented watchdogs settled by the exits at either end of the room. I wasn’t going anywhere without permission.

“I am told you are conversant in our ways,” the old man said. “Do you know the expression No aru taka was tsume o kukusu?”

“ ‘The clever eagle hides its talons’? Sure.”

“Good. For that is what I wish to discuss.”

The phrase embodied a way of life for many Japanese: Never show your real power. A faceless form in the shadows is a position of strength. It is how Japan deals not only with its own but the world at large. The pose has the additional benefit of being hard to attack. Targets are tough to zero in on if they can’t be pinned down. The most influential men in recent Japanese history were the hidden kingmakers who shied away from the limelight. These powerbrokers were sometimes called kuroko, after the nearly invisible Kabuki stagehands dressed in full-body black who assist the actors during onstage costume changes in full view of the audience.

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