I fetched it, slid onto the floor next to her, and stretched to stir
the coals. Ben sauntered over to keep me honest, plunked down, and was
immediately out like a light.
"How're we doing for warmth?" I propped the poker against the side of
the mantel, then reached over and touched her tangled hair lightly with
my fingertips. To my everlasting surprise, she leaned next to me.
"Much better."
"Maybe we should both bail out right now. Tonight. Why not just go down
to my place in the islands and monitor the apocalypse off the satellite
dish? Watch MITI eat America."
Was I joking? Only partially. Down home we have a saying about folks
with a certain . . . _je ne sais quoi_. They'd do to ride the river
with. In my book Tam was definitely one of the riders.
The fire snapped and startled Ben, who glanced up, checked out the
sleet-covered garden, then grimly resumed his snooze. She reached over
and gave him a pat. The first time. "You know, I can't believe MITI is
behind all this. I know at least one MITI person myself."
"You know somebody in MITI?" I was a trifle taken aback. "Who?"
She stared at the fire. "His name is Kenji Asano. You wouldn't have
heard of him."
I lay there for a moment listening to the quartet, my memory registers
running a quick sort. Then it came to me. Kenji Asano was the MITI guy
Henderson said had masterminded Japan's rape of the U.S. semiconductor
industry.
"You actually know him?"
"Sure do." She smiled. "Very well."
Shit. I didn't really need to hear this. "That sounds like a little
more than a professional acquaintance." I looked at her for
confirmation.
"A little."
Okay, I thought. Guess we're getting down to the straight story here.
Press on. "Well, I have some news you may not like. This Asano genius
personally engineered the destruction of the U.S. industry in RAM
chips. Probably the most devastating sneak attack on America since
Pearl Harbor."