"But why? What did you tell him about me?"
"Nothing, really . . ." He glanced away.
"Curious." She was fully alert now. "Then how did he . . . ?"
"Tam, don't be naive. Matsuo Noda knows who you are, believe me." He
shot her an admiring glance. "Why are you frowning? It's true. He knows
all about your work. He practically demanded you come along. He called
you--what was it?--'that brilliant American professor.'"
"You know, something about this doesn't add up." She was having her
first experience of Matsuo Noda's long arm, and she found it
unsettling.
"Why not? Tamara, you of all people should know we Japanese have a
national tradition of honoring guests. Noda-san is old school, through
and through." He leaned back. "Besides, he's bringing somebody else
along to meet you. Could be very interesting."
"Who?"
He told her.
So here they were in the Dai Nippon limo, a stretch, with acres of room
and green tea that flowed till she thought she would burst. What was
that old line about the roomful of _zaibatsu _negotiators: the one with
the toughest bladder prevails.
Seeing Matsuo Noda in person confirmed everything she'd sensed about
him on the TV. He was a genius. Still, something about him told you
that when you sat down to cards with this man, you'd do well to cut the
deck. What really took her aback, though, was the woman alongside him,
Akira Mori.
Could be it was just her style. Tam was definitely overwhelmed. For the
trip she'd worn her softly tailored Calvin Klein suit (her only one),
in shades of pale, warm gray, and set it off with some simple, stark
silver picked up on a trip to Morocco. Perfect pitch. She looked
smashing, feminine yet all business, and Ken had told her so at least
three times. All the same she wasn't prepared for Mori's ostentatious
fashion statement.
When the DNI limo appeared at their hotel, the International, Japan's
favorite TV money guru was wearing one of her severe Rei Kawakubo
ensembles, a small ransom in gold accessories, and enough makeup for a
haute couture ramp model. It turned out she'd taped an early morning
interview show at NHK's Tokyo studios for broadcast that night, then
come down directly on the Shinkansen. She greeted Tam and Ken with
scarcely more than a frosty nod. Tam found this standoffish manner
puzzling.
On the other hand it did fit perfectly with Ken's quick morning
briefing on Noda's famous niece. Quite a story. According to him, her
father, Dr. Toshi Noda, had been a celebrated figure in years past. An
honors graduate of Tokyo University, he'd been the star mathematics
professor of Kyoto University when he was summarily conscripted by
Prime Minister Tojo to take charge of wartime cryptography, codes. Tojo
wanted the best, and he got it. Consequently mild-mannered Toshi Noda
had been one of the minds behind the famous Purple Machine, used for
Japanese ciphers during the early part of the war.
Eventually, however, the project became redundant. After a time Tojo
ceased to trust the Purple Machine and decided to replace it with that
famous Nazi invention, the Enigma Machine. (On that one, Ken had added
with a touch of irony, Toshi Noda was well vindicated. The Enigma
Machine code had already been cracked by the Allies long before Hitler--
declaring it unbreakable--delivered it to Tokyo.)
Toshi Noda resembled his older brother Matsuo physically, but he
differed radically in outlook, being a devout Buddhist and a pacifist.
After the stunning Japanese bloodbath at Saipan, which demonstrated the
war was clearly lost, he'd been one of those imprudent citizens who'd
spoken out publicly for peace. Not surprisingly, he was immediately
placed under surveillance by the Kempei Tai, Japan's secret police, and
shortly thereafter jailed.
After three months' internment he was released a broken man. A week
later he committed ritual _seppuku_, disemboweling himself for the
crime of having disgraced the family.
Toshi Noda's diaries, published posthumously and read widely in Japan,
revealed his deep repugnance for the wartime
government. He believed that Prime Minister Tojo had become, in effect,
a neo-shogun. Although the shogunate supposedly had been abolished when
Emperor Meiji took control and opened Japan in 1867, Toshi Noda saw it
restored with Tojo, another "shogun" who had come along and isolated
the country once again. Nonetheless, he'd been a man of few words. His
death poem, written only moments before he put the knife to his
stomach, was as simple and intense as his life.
_Darkness upon Yamato,
Land of the gods,