He laughed--bull's-eye. I watched as he glanced back at Miss Mori, maybe
a bit nervously. Then he returned his attention. "Merely a small
gesture for the museum. I felt it should be back in Japanese hands." He
continued, his voice now sober. "You do understand?"
"Certainly." I just stared.
"Good. I see I was right." He had paused to examine a large monochrome
screen. It was eighteenth century and he inspected it with only mild
interest, then moved on.
I was still knocked over. Could that be why he'd retained me as his
U.S. legal counsel? Because of some damned antique sword? Okay, I was
already getting the idea Matsuo Noda might be a trifle eccentric, but
all the same . . .
"Interesting." He was pointing at a long picture, part of a series
locked in a wide glass case. "_Honto ni omoshiroi, desu ne_?'
Miss Mori was already there. In a voice scarcely above a whisper she
proceeded to give him a rundown of pros and cons. It was the first time
I'd noticed any enthusiasm out of the woman all night.
I checked my catalogue. The piece was a Heian hand scroll, said to be
"exceedingly rare." After a few moments Noda motioned me over. "Perhaps
you could give us your opinion. What do you think?" He pointed down.
"The subject is intriguing. These are ladies-in-waiting for the
emperor, Fujiwara. Notice the delicate refinement of the coloring, the
matched fabrics, each enhancing the other like flowers in a bouquet.
That was eight centuries ago, just before the rise of the first shogun,
the first 'generalissimo' who would rule in the emperor's name."
When he said "shogun," niece Mori shot him a quick admonitory glance.
There was some kind of unmistakable electricity passing. Something left
unspoken.
"The Heian era ended with the great conflict between the Heike and
Genji clans that led to the death of the ruling emperor in 1185 and the
loss of the imperial sword at sea." Next he said something in guttural
Japanese to Mori, obviously very intent, and indicated one corner of
the painting, where the emperor sat. Her reply was quick and curt. Now,
I only know a little of the language, maybe a couple of cuts above
Berlitz level, but I did manage to pick up she wasn't talking about the
painting. Something to do with the emperor himself, though I missed the
rapid-fire delivery.
In response to Noda's question I tried to sound intelligent, saying the
ink coloring looked well preserved, or some such auction house mumbo
jumbo. It wasn't my thing really, which the man surely knew. He seemed
to know everything else about me. After he listened politely, they
switched back to Japanese and finally settled on a bid. I watched as
she marked it in the catalogue--low six figures.
Walton, I thought, you're dealing with a pair of heavyweights.
By then I'd decided not to bother bidding on anything. There were too
many curious twists, not to mention the building deal. Surely the
ritual had gone far enough, the samurai negotiating ploy of making your
adversary be first to reveal his game plan.
Why not bring up why we were there, just for the hell of it?
When I did, Noda betrayed a fleeting smile. "But of course, the
building." He made it sound like some kind of trivial annoyance, a
nuisance to get out of the way so we could all get back to the serious
work of admiring the pretty pictures.
_Touche_, I thought. Round one to Noda, on points. "I assume you've had
a look at the package of materials I messengered up to your hotel
yesterday?"
A broker friend had put together some listings for office buildings
around midtown--it turned out the market was softening a touch due to
the latest construction binge--and I'd hoped that maybe something would
catch Noda's eye. Matter of fact, there were a couple of real bargains
over near Sixth.
"My people have examined it in detail. We would like to move forward on
the twenty-story building on Third Avenue."
For a second I thought he was joking. Sure we'd tossed in the write-up,
because it fit his profile, but it was a crazy all- cash deal, and they
wanted ninety million, firm.
"Did you read the terms on that one? It's all--"
"There is a vacant floor, is there not? Available immediately?"
"Well, yes, but--"
"There may be a few items to clarify--we would like your legal opinion
concerning the leases of the existing tenants--but nothing major. If the
seller is prepared, I think we could even go to contract early next
week, while I'm here. I would like very much to close as soon as
possible. If some of my staff can meet with the seller's attorneys over
the weekend, perhaps we can start work."
Over the weekend? No counter bid, no haggling? Now, you didn't have to
be a brain surgeon to realize this was a fast-track deal; Matsuo Noda
was a man in a hurry. "Looks like you just may have yourself a piece of
property. I'll try and get hold of them in the morning, if I can, and
start the ball rolling."
"Excellent." He hesitated a moment, as though framing his words, then
continued, "But in fact, Mr. Walton, we'd actually wanted to meet you
tonight for an entirely different purpose. I'd hoped we might be
working together on, well, some additional matters."
"Something else?"
"As you might surmise, we are not enlarging our presence here to no
purpose. Tonight I wanted to tell you something about the objectives of
Nippon, Inc. And then let you decide if what we propose merits your
participation. Your financial expertise could make you a great asset to
us."
Hang on, I thought. This thing is starting to go a little fast.
"What do you have in mind?"
"First let me say you are a man I have long admired. Your style is not
unlike my own. We both understand the importance of moving cautiously,
of keeping our adversaries off guard. Most of all, there is a rigorous
discipline about your work. That is the style of _bushido_, the way of
the warrior." He smiled, and his tone lightened. "I think we could
cooperate very effectively."
Already I was wondering whether I really wanted to "cooperate" any
further with Matsuo Noda. Something about the man, and Miss Mori, made
me very nervous. Besides, I was trying to finish off work now, not
begin more. But he'd found out the one line that would keep me
listening. He'd somehow discovered I was a deep admirer of the old-time
military strategists of the East--such as Sun Tzu and Miyamoto Musashi.