advice in the spirit of friendly cooperation. Which is why," he went
on, "I am so happy to have this opportunity to review our program with
someone such as yourself. Your understanding of America's industrial
malaise has not gone unnoticed by those Japanese who take the longer
view, who worry about world economic stability."
Jack tugged at his silk tie and nodded his thanks. Then Noda continued.
"You will be pleased to know I have been in contact with the Japanese
trade organizations that have political action committees, or PACs as
you call them, in Washington. Last year we distributed over fifty
million dollars . . . at least if you believe the Senate Foreign
Relations Committee's staffers . . . in an effort to clarify
misunderstandings about Japan's trade and investment position here." He
smiled. "That averages out to about a million dollars per state, to
take a somewhat clinical view. Of course I will try to use my influence
to see what our PACs can do to help you next fall."
"Mr. Noda, your expression of support is, naturally, appreciated." Jack
was turning politician again. "However, you should be aware of Section
441(e) of the Federal Election Campaign Act, which states that 'no
foreign national shall make a contribution, or an implied promise to
make a contribution, in connection with any federal public office.' I
don't think this discussion is proper."
"That law says nothing about PACs of duly incorporated American
subsidiaries of foreign-owned organizations, Senator. For example, Sony
of America and a coalition of Japanese investors recently contributed
hundreds of thousands to legislators of Florida and California to
encourage the defeat of those states' unfair unitary taxes on foreign-
owned companies. Sometimes it's necessary to remind your federal and
state governments that Japanese investment can be very problematical in
an uncongenial environment." He smiled. "Americans investing overseas
have a long history of making their interests known to those
governments; why should Japanese businessmen be expected to do
otherwise?" All of a sudden Noda glanced at his watch, rose abruptly,
and bowed. "Well, the afternoon seems to have gotten away from us. I
wish you to know I am extremely honored you've taken time from your
undoubtedly busy schedule to visit with us, Senator. It has been most
pleasant."
He shook hands with Jack as he continued. "Of course I have not yet had
the opportunity to review the thinking of the man expected to oppose
you in next fall's senate contest. I believe he is Representative Mark
Reynolds, is he not?"
Jack's polite smile sort of froze on his face.
"But, I'm sure I will," Noda proceeded blandly. "Again let me stress
that voices such as yours are important. There are so few opinion-
makers in America, individuals such as Dr. Richardson and yourself, who
have the receptivity to appreciate the importance of Dai Nippon's
program and its objectives."
I quickly offered to show the distinguished senator to the door, hoping
I wouldn't need that Christmas-gift dog muzzle. He was still closing
his briefcase as we passed the guards, a couple of guys who looked like
the heavies in an old Bruce Lee karate epic. Click, we were on the
elevator, click, we were headed down.
"Good Christ!" He exploded. Before he could say anything else, I waved
for silence. Around here the walls probably had ears. (Shortly
thereafter I discovered I'd underestimated even that.)
In minutes we were on Third Avenue, autumn wind in our hair, with
O'Donnell positively awestruck by Matsuo Noda's balls.
"Matt, did I hear what I thought I did?" His eyes were grim.
"That he's got X million bucks that say you get retired if you fuck
with him?"
"My reading was, I play ball with him and his crowd and he'll write a
blank check for my campaign next year. I cross him and I'll be watching
the Mark Reynolds show every night on prime time right through election
day." He was livid. "Matt, take my advice and get out of this thing.
That bastard thinks this country's for sale. If he expects me to run
interference for him on the Hill while he gears up for World War Three,
he's making a big mistake."
"Jack, I can't quit now. Who else is going to keep an eye on this guy?
Besides, he'd never let me. I know too much."
"So what? He's got to be stopped."
"Look, if you're so worried, then deliver a major speech on the Senate
floor. About all these Japanese billions rolling in, absorbing
companies, with a lot of samurai fanning out to take
names and kick ass across the boardrooms of America. It ought to get
picked up by the Nightly News. Then we'll see what the country wants to
do about it."
The problem, obviously, was what _could_ the country do about it. And
more than that, where would it eventually lead? Did anybody--Tam
Richardson included--seriously believe this was merely a temporary
helping hand? History had a practice of going in one direction--forward.
So after Noda had acquired a lot of our high-tech outfits, maybe even
kept them from going the way of Mostek and others, what next? More and
more I was beginning to wonder if this was really preferable to our
blundering along as best we could on our own.
After gazing at the sky a minute, he declared he was going to do
exactly what I'd said. Blow the whistle. He was about to write a speech
that would be read the length of America, maybe even in the White
House--unless, as Henderson claimed, nobody there these days read
anything but TelePrompTers. Nobody was going to buy off Jack O'Donnell.
I watched as he bulldozed a matron and her fur-collared pooch out of
the way to grab the next cab for his midtown office. On the way back
through the lobby I stopped off and grabbed a copy of _Time_. Had we
made the weeklies yet?
Yep. Lead article, all about how the Japanese loved investing here.
Going up in the elevator, though, I happened to flip past a profile of
some recently disappeared luminary in the academic world, the guy who
was supposed to have been the father of artificial intelligence. It
occurred to me the piece might be of interest to Tam. She'd been so
busy she was probably out of touch.
When I got back up to twelve, Noda was gone. Vanished almost as though
he hadn't been there. I wanted to huddle with Tam about his evasive new
song and dance, but since I was holding the magazine, I showed her the
item. The rest of what happened you can probably guess. She had been
out of touch.
"Oh, my God, Allan!"
"Friend of yours? I'm sorry."
"Nobody told me." She grabbed it and quickly skimmed the article.
Finally she headed for her office. "I've got to call Sarah."
"Tam." I caught her arm. I'd finally made the connection.
"I think I already know the story." Then I recounted Henderson's
bizarre tale.
That was the first time though not the last that I saw Tam Richardson
look scared. She obviously knew something I didn't.
"Matthew, something is very, very wrong."
"Just repeating what I heard." I looked at her, now twisting the
magazine in her hands, and decided to press. "Is there more to this
than you're telling me?"
"I don't know." She glanced around. "I really don't want to talk about
it here."
"Whatever you say." I paused. "How well did you know him?"
"He had dinner at my apartment not more than a couple of months ago."
She tossed down the magazine. "And he asked me to do something for
him."
"Did you?" Don't know why I asked. It just seemed relevant.
"No. I guess you could say I did just the opposite. Now it all makes me
wonder if . . . if maybe it has some connection with . . ." Her voice
trailed off.
"What? What connection?"
"Nothing." She was starting to clam up.
She didn't say anything more. And, so far as I know, that phone call
never got made.
Besides, something else occurred that night to occupy her mind. When
she got home, she picked up her mail and decided to crash. She'd been
so busy she still hadn't finished with all the odds and ends that had
stacked up during the Tokyo trip, but that night she was too knocked-
out to bother. She poured herself a glass of white wine, quickly
checked the mail, and was getting ready for bed when she first noticed
the light flashing on her answering machine. For a minute she
considered just letting it wait. There was nobody she wanted to talk
with who wouldn't still be there in the morning. But finally curiosity
got the upper hand, and she pushed "Play."
There was only one message. In Japanese.
Ms. Akira Mori wanted to see her Friday morning, at the DNI offices. It
wasn't a request; it was a summons.
Wait one minute! Mori? When did she get into town? And more to the
point, where did Mori-san come off summoning Tam Richardson for a
command appearance? She had another
glass of wine and finally went to bed wondering who exactly was now
running the show at DNI.
Friday late she awoke still thinking about Allan. What was going on?
She was beginning to get worried, and maybe a little frightened.
Finally, just before lunchtime, she got her briefcase and hailed a cab
for uptown.
After she cleared the checkpoint at the twelfth-floor elevators, she
spotted Mori-san, right there in the midst of the action. This woman
wastes no time, she told herself. Mori, an incongruous peacock of
designer elegance in the midst of the bustling, short-haired staff, was
poring over a stack of printouts assembled on a desk in the center of
the floor. Meanwhile, the office was going full tilt: the green print
of CRT screens glowed; printers hummed all around; data bleeped between
terminals; and staffers were hurrying over selected documents for Mori
to review. Also, since heavy buys were underway, the latest SEC filings
(required when one entity acquires more than five percent of the stock
of a given company) were being readied.
As it happens, I was already on hand too, over in Noda's office where
we were going over some paperwork. The day's news as far as I was
concerned also was Mori-san. She'd appeared bright and early, held a
closed-door confab with Noda, proceeded to do some photocopying, then
commandeered an office.
By purest coincidence I was doing some copying of my own round about
then and ended up on the copy line right behind her, inhaling her
perfume. Next an odd thing happened. As we all sometimes do when
rushed, she'd snatched up her copies while the last original was still
on the machine. Then she asked me if I wanted regular size or legal.
Legal, I said, and she reached to flip the switch. As she did, though,
she accidentally clicked the "print" button with those long
fingernails, whereupon she stalked off, rummaging through her copies
and forgetting the original.
Not for long. Two seconds later she was back to claim it, but by that
time an unauthorized copy was lying in the output bin. I didn't even
see it. However, when I scooped up my own pages a minute later, mixed
in with them was a sheet listing some names and numbers with REVISIONS
lettered across the top. I started to toss it, then paused to glance
over the names for a moment.
Hang on, everybody, this is very out of line. That's when I decided to
slip it into my briefcase.
When Mori saw Tam come in, she quickly stacked the printouts she was
reviewing into a neat pile, then beckoned her toward the far corner of
the floor. Tam noticed that Mori's new office was at the opposite end
of the building from Noda's.
"I understand Noda-san has appointed you director of this division."
Mori was ushering Tam into the office, all the while running her
fingers nervously through her sculptured black hair. "Congratulations."
Not exactly a great opener. It sounded even harsher in Japanese, since
it was so at odds with the usual polite greetings.
"I've been hired to do a job, Mori-san, and I intend to do
it."
"_So desu ne_," Mori concurred in Japanese, her voice a trifle
strained. Tam thought she looked a bit bleary-eyed after her flight in
from Tokyo, but there were no half measures about the woman. She was
all business in a prim silk suit shading to gray with a bright blue
scarf tied at the neck. She wore high heels, but they didn't slow her
brisk stride as she paced around her desk. "I am sure you will do it
well. I would like you to know I am prepared to assist you at every
step."
Well, Tam had a pretty clear idea of how she intended to proceed, which
didn't really include a lot of assistance from Akira Mori. What exactly
had Noda been telling this woman? Maybe, she mused, Mori-san just
hadn't been fully brought up to speed.
"I noticed that you're reviewing our analytical sheets." Tam continued,
"Those are the firms we're going to start restructuring first."
"And if you do not receive the desired cooperation? What will you do
then?" Mori asked evenly, as though she didn't already know the answer.
"We'll just keep up stock acquisition till we have whatever we need.
Also, I intend to appoint a representative to sit on the board of
directors, to monitor performance and make sure our program is
implemented."
"That is my understanding as well." Mori went on, "And concerning the
matter of who will be assigned--"
"I've just finished putting together a list of management experts.
They're dedicated people. Most of them will probably help us for a
small honorarium instead of their usual consulting fees."
"These personnel are an area I wish to discuss with you," Mori pushed
ahead, almost as though not listening. That was when Tam realized she
was finally getting around to the real agenda of the meeting. "It is
our opinion that, at this stage, the heavy involvement of Americans in
that capacity would be counterproductive."
"'Our opinion'?" Tam didn't like the sound of this. "Who exactly is
'our'?"
"I have reviewed Dai Nippon's program in some detail with . . . the
interested parties in Tokyo." Mori appeared to be making an
announcement. "They have concurred that at this stage it would be more
efficient if we assigned our own specialists to assist in the
management of these companies."
"Your own specialists?" Now Tam was starting to bristle. "Just whom do
you have in mind?"
"Industrial experts such as Kenji Asano, for example, may be involved."
She continued, "We have a great reservoir of talent to choose from,
particularly within the Ministry of International Trade and Industry."
"MITI?" Tarn stared at her, dumbfounded. She couldn't believe her own
ears. That was like calling in a fox to fortify your henhouse. "You've
got to be joking."
"The decision was made last week." Mori fixed her coldly. "Noda-san has
been informed, and he finds the suggestion . . . acceptable."
"Well, I don't," Tam flared. "It's outrageous."
"There is something you must understand, Dr. Richardson," Mori
continued in Japanese. "The management of a company should represent
its ownership. Since Dai Nippon will be holding what amounts to a
controlling interest in these firms, we are obliged to assist them
using whatever international specialists we feel are most qualified to
contribute. For now we believe that the expertise in our Ministry of
International Trade and Industry is most appropriate since it has
guided corporate growth in Japan for many years with undeniable
success."
"That's irrelevant." Tam steamed. "First, most MITI executives don't
necessarily understand American business. And second, MITI has no right
involving itself in the operation of our industry. It's a flagrant
conflict of interest."
"There I must disagree with you. On your first point, many Japanese
firms have been manufacturing here and have an excellent record of
labor relations and management success. As to your second point, using
specialists trained by MITI is simply the most efficient way to
transfer Japanese expertise."
"It won't be allowed."
"Why shouldn't it be? Any people we bring here will be on leave of
absence. Hence they will no longer have any official ties to the
Japanese government. No law prevents us from appointing whomever we
wish."
Ouch, Tam thought. She's right. Nothing could stop Dai Nippon from
restructuring the boards of directors of the companies in which it held
a voting majority of shares. In fact, several Japanese firms had
already taken over and reopened the manufacturing facilities of some of
the very companies MITI's "targeting" had decked only a few years
before, bringing in Japanese board members as part of the deal. What's
more, Americans loved it. Governors were falling over themselves to
attract Japanese joint ventures to their states.
"Does Noda-san understand the significance of bringing in MITI
personnel?"
"There are many interests to be addressed . . ."
At this point I wandered in, together with Noda, to talk about setting
up a meeting that afternoon. We'd been reviewing DNI's plans for a new
program of real estate investment and construction, part of expanding
the research or manufacturing facilities of the firms it was now in the
process of absorbing.
I passed a pleasantry with Tam, then studied her, puzzled. "You look a
little distressed this morning."
"I'm receiving an update on a change in our program." Tam glared back
at Mori, then turned to Noda. "What's this about bringing in people
from MITI?"
Noda smiled, but he looked a trifle uncomfortable. "Think of it as a
temporary measure." He nodded toward Mori, then looked back at Tam. "We
always like to operate by consensus. And that consensus among the fund
managers who have joined us appears to be that our investments should
initially be monitored by our own people."
"I thought this office was going to be in charge of determining who our
people would be, not somebody in MITI." Tam fixed him coldly, then
turned on me. "Did you know anything about this?"
"Bringing in honchos from MITI? News to me." I examined Noda. "I
understood the management end of this was going to be directed by Dr.
Richardson."
He was smiling again. "But it will be. She will continue to meet with
the CEOs of the firms we intend to assist to provide our preliminary
analysis of their operations, and she will be with us every step we
take."
"It hardly sounds that way." Tam was boiling. "The way it looks now, I
set up a reorganization plan, then MITI's people come in and take
over."
"Merely for consultation, Dr. Richardson. I assure you." He glanced
uncomfortably at Mori-san. Both Tam and I had the same hunch at that
point: Noda's backers had started to get a little edgy about his
investments, so they'd decided to send in some brass from the Delta
Force to keep an eye on things. But you'd never have suspected that as
he continued, "Dr. Richardson, surely you must be aware that MITI
personnel are not in the habit of, as you phrase it, 'taking over.' At
most MITI merely recommends policies to enhance competitiveness.
Furthermore, the individuals we will engage will no longer be
associated with MITI. They will merely be specialists in our hire.
Their participation will be extremely beneficial, please believe me."
"If making decisions like this is your idea of consensus, then I don't
think much of it." Tam was getting increasingly wound up. "And I'll
tell you something else. I intend to review the government connections
of anyone you bring in. I'm going to have final say."
"We all want to work together," Noda continued smoothly. "Our plans are
continuing to evolve. Of course I will insist on full American-Japanese
coordination and cooperation at every stage." He looked squarely at
Tam. "You have my word."
She glanced over at me, trying her best to keep cool. I was toying with
my papers, still posing as a neutral observer, but I was equally
puzzled. Why would Japan's Ministry of International Trade and Industry
let its people be used to assist American companies? Okay, MITI's elite
technocrats were probably the cream of Japan's management talent, but
they already had their hands full.
More to the point, given MITI's sorry history of rule bending and
economic guerrilla warfare, why would it now cooperate in Dai Nippon's
plan to restructure the high-tech segment of U.S. manufacturing? I
asked Noda point-blank.
"Mr. Walton, if you choose to see Japan and the U.S. as competitors,
then I suppose you could regard this as our ancient tradition of
'giving salt to the enemy.'" He smiled awkwardly.
Bullshit. That's what I thought, not what I said, which was nothing.
Tam in the meantime had her own question to chew on. Mori had mentioned
Ken Asano. Was he involved too? Since Mori had specifically named him
as being on the MITI team that she or somebody now planned to enlist,
was this a tip-off that Ken was in with them up to his neck? Was this
the "trust" he'd talked about?
Since Tam looked as if she was getting ready to resign on the spot, I
figured a little cooling-off time for everybody might be in order.
"Dr. Richardson, if we're about through here, could you help me a
minute?" I thumbed toward the open door. "Tanaka wants you to approve
the final setup for the partitions."
I quickly discovered I was wrong about the idea she would quit. As we
worked our way past the computer terminals and stacks of printouts,
retreating toward the center of the floor, she declared war. "MITI or
Mori or whoever's behind this is going to have a fight on their hands.
We don't need them involved."
"Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think we're being kept in the
dark about a lot of what's cooking." I kept my voice low, scarcely
above a whisper, as the Japanese staff milled in and out. "There's a
sheet of paper in my briefcase that I'd like to go over with you. Yet
another example of the curious new developments around this place."
She poured herself a cup of green tea from the large urn stationed in
the middle of the floor. "What do you mean?"
"We'll talk about it later." I poured some tea for myself. "I think
something's gone haywire."
That startled her, and she began to tune in. "Things are pretty haywire
now."
"This may be even worse. I came across something a while ago that
doesn't add up." I looked at her. "I think we ought to talk about it."
"Now?"
"Not here. How about tonight?"
"Can't. There's a damned faculty dinner I have to attend."
"Then tomorrow night?"
"Where?"
"What would you say to my place downtown? I think you live right around
the corner from me."
"This has to be strictly business, Matt."
"Guaranteed." I raised my palm.
"Well, I've got a lot of work--"
"Shall we make it for seven?" I was handing her my card, address and
number thereon. "The cocktail hour?"
She was still glaring at Mori's office as she absently took it. "Well .
. . all right." She glanced back. "Seven."
"See you there."
. . . Jack O'Donnell's speech, to be delivered to the Senate that
Tuesday, sort of slipped to the back of my mind. Maybe it shouldn't
have. After getting back to his office that afternoon he dictated about
three versions before he had it the way he wanted it. Friday morning he
messengered a copy down to my office, and I can tell you it was a
beauty. He'd got it all, and he'd got it right.
Later Friday, however, he received a phone call from Matsuo Noda. After
the usual preliminaries, saying how much he'd enjoyed their meeting,
Mr. Noda confided he was calling as a personal favor to the senator,
since they'd hit it off so well the previous day. Turns out he'd just
been talking to the CEOs of various Japanese outfits scheduled to set
up manufacturing operations in some of the "rust-belt" mill towns in
upstate New York. Here was the distressing development: seems they were
all of a sudden taking another look at sunny Tennessee. The problem
was, they were upset by the anti-Japanese tone a lot of New York
publications were taking these days--Japan bashing in the Times
editorial pages, things like that. Noda, however, felt all this was
very shortsighted of those Japanese investors; and he wondered if
Senator O'Donnell would like him to put in a word for the Empire State.
Pause. He hated to mention this, but people were even talking of
closing certain Japanese-operated factories already in place, such as
that big one in Elmira, Jack's hometown, and moving them south. But he
thought threats such as that were very impolite and he was hoping he
could find time to straighten the whole thing out.
Like I said, it would have been a hell of a speech.