with the director, so we should wait. No need, I said, flashing my DNI
meishi. He bowed and we were waved past the guards, then ushered
directly into the top-security workroom--where the team of white-frocked
technicians was said to be cleaning and retouching the gilding on the
sword's _tsuba _hand guard, the decorative little disc that separates
the hilt from the blade.
Since the _tsuba_ on swords were interchangeable, not necessarily
connected in any particular way to a given piece, they're actually a
separate art form, interesting but not overly serious items. Fact is,
the Imperial Household could just as well have sent this one up here
for work and kept the sword in Tokyo.
Such, however, was not the case. The main attraction itself was
undoubtedly over there on the back workbench, in a big stainless steel
box half the size of a coffin, an armed guard stationed next to it.
Noda must have told everybody we were coming in today because the
technicians parted like the Red Sea at our approach. Although the
president of Dai Nippon was still nowhere to be seen, the _tsuba_ was
there all right, lying exposed on a worktable right next to a pile of
cleaning pads and the gilding apparatus.
And it was a stunner, take my word. One of the most tasteful I've ever
had the pleasure to view. Iron, of course, and about ten centimeters
across, circular. Actually it was shaped like a chrysanthemum, with the
raised image of a mirror on one side and a beaded necklace on the
other. The exquisite metalwork was enhanced by the fresh gilding, which
made the embossing even more striking. My unprofessional opinion? Very,
very ancient. Older than twelfth century? Entirely possible. I really
couldn't say. But a wild guess would be early Heian, certainly no later
than Kamakura. Fact is, back in those days metalwork didn't change all
that much for long periods of time, so there's no real way to date with
precision.
"_Hijo-ni omoshiroi desu_"--very interesting--I said after a respectful
interval, hoping to get into the spirit of the occasion and impress
everybody with my Berlitz Japanese. "And now, would it be possible to
see the actual sword?" I pointed toward the stainless steel coffin.
"Sealed in there, I presume."
The head technician bowed and suddenly looked very troubled. Then he
mumbled something in rapid Japanese to Asano. He didn't budge.
"Problem?" I turned to Ken.
"He says Matsuo Noda has given strict orders that the sword is never to
be viewed by the public when disassembled." He shrugged. "Noda-sama, he
says, has declared it to be sacred and therefore it must be displayed
with the proper ceremonial reverence always. Of course we'll still be
able to see it, but only after the _tsuba_ is replaced. Perhaps later
on this afternoon."
We'd come all this way, and now we were going to be stymied by some
middle-management lab technician?
"Of course"--I bowed back, hoping to bluff--"weren't you informed why we
are here? I have the honor to be Matsuo Noda's senior American
corporate counsel. Noda-sama has ordered me to check and make certain
the hilt remains in place while the _tsuba_ is undergoing repair. So if
you'll kindly open the case, I'll verify that and the matter will be
ended." I bowed again.
"_So desu_." He turned pale. Obviously the grip had been removed.
Whoops. I'd just bungled, creating a problem worse than the one I
wanted to circumvent.
"On the other hand," I continued quickly, trying to recoup, "as long as
it's locked in the case, I'm sure there'll be no problem."
Again he bowed, looking relieved. Noda had these guys scared.
"However, it will be necessary to actually see the sword, so I can
report to Noda-sama that I have carried out his instructions. Otherwise
Noda-sama may be upset, and I will be deeply dishonored."
Couching the ploy in personal terms seemed to tip the scale. He bowed
again, hesitantly, then led us over to the box. Throughout my little
white lie, Ken hadn't said one word. Guess he was as curious as I was
to take a look.
"Do you realize what you are about to witness?" The senior staff man
stood before us, his dark eyes haughty and grave. Time to put the
barbarian gaijin in his place. "Physical proof of the divinity of His
Imperial Highness, the Emperor of Japan. This sword is the most sacred
object in the world."
I nodded reverently and moved to the side to let the head technician
begin. He slipped a magnetic card into the handle of the steel case,
punched in some electronic numbers on a pad there next to the latch,
and slowly raised the lid.
Since photographs of the sword had been officially forbidden by the
Imperial Household, I'd not seen even so much as a snapshot. Ken and I
were literally holding our breath.
The interior of the coffin had been partitioned into a front and rear
section, both draped with satin. First he lifted away the back shroud--
to reveal a long gold box. That, I figured, must be the watertight case
Noda's scientists had originally detected. Ken emitted a low hum as we
looked at it. Gleaming, the purest of the pure, it had to be 24-karat,
like something you'd find in the tomb of a pharaoh. Along the sides
were some elegant, playful Heian-style reliefs. Birds, musical
instruments, Shinto goddesses. Breathtaking, that's the only word I can
find.
"It's beautiful." I was staring, dazzled. "And the sword?"
The technician hesitated. Guess we still had him worried.
"I'm sure Noda-sama will be pleased to know of your cooperation," I
said soothingly. "There should be no difficulty."
He got the message. We weren't going to rock the boat. _Wa_. Harmony.
He nodded again, reassured, then reached down and lifted away the satin
cloth covering the front section. Underneath was a bolster of deep
purple velvet, and nestled in the middle was . . . the Imperial Sword.
Ken emitted a quiet, reverent exclamation, the hissed Japanese
"_Saaaa_" that denotes pensive regard, and for a second we both just
stood there. Dr. Kenji Asano was clearly awestruck. I was too.
As well we should have been. For one thing, it was a superbly well-
preserved piece. The blade was delicately curved, and its edge could
probably still do damage. A few flecks of rust were visible here and
there, but overall it was in mint condition, just as Noda had claimed.
Even more interesting was that, sure enough, the grip had been removed
while they worked on the _tsuba_. So we were being treated to a glimpse
of the Sacred Sword the way Noda had specified it should never be
viewed--except by a few crew-cut technicians there in the lab--with the
_nakago_, the steel beneath the grip, exposed. We were seeing it all.
It's gratifying to report that his publicity people had told the truth:
there was indeed no signature on the _nakago_. (I guess if you're
swordsmith for god, you just naturally go easy on the ego.) That
omission notwithstanding, it was definitely a first-class _katana_.
Looked to be some kind of off-alloy, heavy on copper. If you had to
guess what the early swords were like, say at a time in between the
late-bronze and early-iron ages, this would be a knowledgeable estimate
for appearance. The alloy was plausible; it was clearly very old; and
with an antique hilt such as the one lying there, the overall look was
very reasonable. I was impressed. Put the handle back on the way you
normally see a sword and everything about it clicked.
Sorry, but out of habit I have to do something now. What follows is a
technical description of the Imperial Sword, including the part usually
hidden by the grip--which nobody else has been able to supply because
nobody else had seen it disassembled as it was there in the lab. There
may be some collectors who'd feel cheated by anything less. This was,
as the senior staff man had sternly brought to our attention, a once-
in-a-lifetime moment.
"Early Shinto _katana_. Very long and active _sunagashi _and _utsuri
_extending into a _kaen boshi_. Slender _nakago _with one _mekugi-ana_.
Shallow _koshi-zori _with _chu-kissaki _and _bo-hi _along either
_shinogi _extending into the _nakago _. . ."
Enough. Actually, that last part made me a little sad. Truthfully, I
think Noda was absolutely right. Nobody should sully the divinity of
this piece by exhibiting it disassembled, with the grip removed. The
problem is that anybody with the slightest experience might possibly
have his faith shaken a trifle, since it's common knowledge that a
tapered _nakago_, the sloping edge there extending back into the
section normally covered by the hilt, didn't come into its own till
around the mid fif--
"Mr. Walton, I hadn't expected you until later. You should have
contacted me."
It was the voice of Matsuo Noda, directly behind me. I looked up to
notice that the faces of all the technicians around the room now
matched their bleached lab coats.
"Guess we need to coordinate better." I turned around and smiled.
Walton, I lectured myself, don't be a smartass, just this once. Be
reverent. Who the hell knows how the Sun Goddess liked her _nakagos_
tapered?
Besides, the simple truth was the Imperial Sword of Emperor Antoku
really knocked me over. Superb workmanship, excellent balance, elegant
shape. And overall, surprisingly good condition . . . well, except
for one thing.
"It's almost perfect." I revolved back to examine it. "Except for that
little scratch on the _nakago_. Too bad."
"What scratch, Mr. Walton?" He stared down.
"It's actually on the other side as best I recall."
There followed a long pause as Noda's eyes gradually narrowed to slits.
Finally he said, "I wasn't aware you were so conversant with press
descriptions of the sword, Mr. Walton."
We both knew the scratch on the _nakago_, on the side not showing, had
never once been mentioned in the papers.
Which was as it should be. A minor blemish really. All the same I now
felt very guilty about it. I do hope it was an unavoidable accident,
like the metallurgy guys at the Princeton lab claimed in the apology
that accompanied their bill after I shipped it down last summer for
tests.
This was turning out to be quite a day. Seems New York's crime
statistics were looking up; a theft had actually been solved. The son
of a bitch was MINE.
"Ah, well, Mr. Walton, I trust you are suitably impressed all the
same."
"Only you could appreciate how much." My head was swimming. Judging
from the surrounding technicians' reverent gaze, I got the definite
impression they had totally missed the significance of our exchange.
Kenji Asano was now wearing a pure poker face. What was he thinking?
My own concentration, however, was elsewhere at that particular
instant. The new realization: Matthew Walton is a dead man. As of this
moment. Noda would never let me live to tell what I knew.
Just then an official wearing some sort of formal-looking black kimono
emblazoned with the _kiku_ crest of the Imperial Household Agency came
walking briskly out of the office behind us. He was carrying a silver
case, about cigar-box size, something etched across its filigreed lid.
He walked over to Noda, bowed deferentially, and settled it on the
workbench next to Kenji Asano's briefcase.
Nobody paid him much notice, however, since we were all still admiring
the Sacred Sword. Finally my brain started to function. Dates? Right .
. . the night I met Noda . . . which got me out of the house ... his
hirelings cleaned out my office . . . that was about, what, two weeks
before the sword was "discovered." Perfect. Just enough time to salt
the thing in the Inland Sea, let his high-tech research team fish it
up. . . .
The technician bowed to us once more, then started spreading the satin
cloths back over the two compartments. Down came the stainless steel
lid. Click. History time was over.
That was when, finally, Ken looked over and noticed the silver case. He
stared at it, puzzled, then glanced at Noda, for whom it obviously was
intended, and inquired politely concerning what it might be.
Noda cleared his throat, mumbled something about official DNI business,
and started thanking the Household rep who'd brought out the case.
However, the Household man showed his breeding. He picked up Ken's
question, smiled and bowed, then proceeded to explain that it contained
the only copies of DNI's original technical analyses of the sword--X-ray
crystallography scans, nondestructive radiation tests, various
scientific data he didn't actually understand but which had been used
by Dai Nippon to establish the sword's alloy composition and therefore
its Sacred authenticity. These data had been forwarded to the Imperial
Household with instructions they be kept under lock and key. He'd
understood all along that they had merely been on temporary loan to the
Emperor, and thus he had no objection now that the honorable Noda-sama
had requested their return for additional study by DNI scientists. All
of Japan was in the debt of the esteemed Matsuo . . .
Kenji Asano turned to stare at me, his eyes gradually filling with an
enormous realization.
You know, I used to have a hobby of reading biographies of the geniuses
who'd come up with the truly original insights of modern times. How, I
puzzled, did they manage it? I mean, did Newton really watch an apple
fall and intuitively sense it was responding to some invisible force?
Maybe. Or how about Einstein's insight that matter and energy are
really the same thing? Or that space can be curved? Whatever happened,
they made a connection that nobody else in history had ever come up
with.
Who can explain how these breakthroughs happen? They're always the
result of standing off and viewing reality in a wholly new way.
With apologies, I've invoked some heavy names. But the point is, there
are transcendental moments when a given set of circumstances is
suddenly seen to fit more than one paradigm of how the universe
functions.
Standing there looking at the silver case, Kenji Asano saw the apple
fall from the tree. And I was only seconds behind him.
New insight number one: Something very fishy was going on with the
Imperial Sword, something which would not necessarily stand the light
of day. (On that one I was actually several seconds ahead.)
Number two: If the truth came out, Japan would be a laughingstock
worldwide. Worse, His Imperial Majesty would have egg all over his
Imperial face. As would Matsuo Noda. Hence the box, having served it's
PR purpose, had to go.
Number three: The first two insights pointed to the very real
possibility that Matsuo Noda had long since passed around the bend,
sanity-wise. But whether he had or not, one thing was clear--that silver
case contained everything we needed to nail Dai Nippon.
Who knew for sure what was in it. But Ken and I both realized at that
instant the contents had to be pure dynamite.
What happened next I probably wouldn't have believed if I hadn't been
standing there to witness it with my very own eyes. Kenji Asano was
calmly extracting a Peace cigarette from the packet in his left breast
pocket and inserting it in his mouth. Then his right hand came up and
out of his thumbnail flared one of those wooden matches he liked so
much.
"_Asano-san, sumimasen_." The senior staff man stepped forward and
blurted out, "No smoking, please."
"Sorry," replied Asano, and he flicked the still burning match toward
the waste bin there at the end of the table-- which just happened to be
piled high with the solvent pads they'd been using to scour the
_tsuba_. A lab can be a dangerous place, and this one was no exception.
A microsecond thereafter the floor was carpeted in flame.
Later I theorized what must have occurred, remembering a long-ago
personal disaster that almost got me kicked out of college. The heavy
aromatic solvent they were using, probably a benzene compound, had
vaporized off the cleaning pads, drifted down over the sides of the
container, and was hovering as an invisible, heavier-than-air cloud
just above the floor at
knee level. The exact same thing happened to me once in a Chem 201 lab--
during an after-hours endeavor wherein I was steaming out a twenty-
gallon benzene container preparatory to an experiment on the propensity
of brewer's yeast to convert grape sugar into potable ethanol. The sink
happened to be situated next to a gas-fired hot-water heater--which
suddenly kicked on. Next thing I knew, the heavy fumes around my ankles
detonated. Along with the lab fire alarm.
That explosion, as this one, was actually minor, mostly noise, though
it sounded like a bomb. The fumes flashed and it was over, leaving no
damage other than to the nervous system of any bystanders. This time,
however, there was an added ingredient. The waste container. It had
become an instant inferno, billowing dark, toxic smoke into the room.
As yelling lab technicians began rushing in with fire extinguishers,
everybody else was bolting for the exits, including the security
people. All in all, it seemed a reasonably propitious moment to make
our own departure as well, since we'd been the cause of the ruckus. Ken
fumbled around in the smoke now obscuring the workbench till he
recovered his briefcase, and then we headed out.
At the door I caught sight of the Household official and bowed my
thanks.
"_Domo arigato gozaimashita_. I am deeply honored by this opportunity
to view the Imperial Sword of Emperor Antoku." I bowed again. He nodded
back and glared at Asano.
I'd planned to thank Noda too, but he was still in there with the
confusion, undoubtedly standing personal guard over his Sacred Sword.
Let him stay. There was no real danger. The fire should be out in no
time. It was mainly smoke anyway.
Ken was also bowing his farewells to one and all. Then, as though on
cue, we both started edging toward the main hallway. By now security
people were running down the corridors and the place was in
pandemonium.
When we reached the lobby, I almost wanted to bolt for the outer door,
but we managed to keep our exit dignified, businesslike. Finally as we
cleared the last security checkpoint, I turned to him.
"You really should be more careful with your smokes, Ken." I lowered my
voice. "Manage to grab it?"
"In my briefcase."
"Then let's get the hell out of here. Noda's going to figure out what
happened any second now and go totally bananas."
"I doubt he will be pleased."
"Tell you one thing, that silver case has got to disappear, fast. Or
we're likely to vanish ourselves. We may anyway." I quickened my pace
toward the parking lot. "You know, I've got a wild hunch what's in that
box. But whatever it is, I do know for sure we'd better get the thing
somewhere for safekeeping. Quick."
"Should we tell Tamara?" He glanced down at the smoke- smeared
briefcase in his hands, as though holding a cobra.
"She's got to know everything. For her own safety."
"Matthew," he said, looking at me. "You're supposed to be an authority.
So tell me the truth. You were behaving strangely in there. It's a
fake, isn't it?"
"Ken, during the Middle Ages about fifty different monasteries in
Europe possessed the authentic, consecrated relic of Christ's
circumcision. Who's to say? Remember Francis Bacon's 'What is truth?'
Japan's emperor is now and forever. That's the only 'truth' that
matters."
"What are you saying?"
"That sword belongs to the people of Japan. Ask them if it's real."
"Well, you've learned enough about this country to be able to get your
message across without actually spelling it out. Very Japanese." He
stared at me. "You'll have to concede one thing, though. Matsuo Noda is
an absolute genius. Think about it. He claimed to have analyzed the
sword, then donated the data to the Imperial Household--knowing there
would be only one place on earth where it could be right out in public
and yet never actually examined. In a fancy silver case kept by a bunch
of Household bureaucrats, not one of whom would have the presumption to
open it. Or be able to understand anything if he did."
My own nagging thoughts at that moment were on a different track. Why
had Noda offered to let me see my own piece? To flaunt the dimensions
of his balls? Or was he starting to believe his own trumped-up fantasy?
Had Matsuo Noda convinced himself he was God? That he could turn water
into wine? Or a fifteenth-century metallurgical screw-up into . . . The
more I thought about it, the scarier it got. Or maybe, just maybe, he
thought I wouldn't recognize it with a different hilt. Could be he was
right. But Ken and I had accidentally viewed it disassembled. That
wasn't part of his little inside joke. For once Matsuo Noda had blown
it.
"Ken, everything I've learned about Noda so far tells me he's going to
do something totally unexpected the minute he realizes we took that."
"Let him. I want to know what's in it."
"Do the world a favor. No. Never, never open it."
He paused a second and looked down at his briefcase.
"Maybe you're right. It's better for everybody if it just disappears."
By then we'd fully cleared the outer doors. The day was turning
gorgeous, sunny and brisk. The thin film of last night's snow was all
but gone.
Abruptly he stopped. "Wait, Matthew. Think a minute. We have to at
least make a copy of the contents. And it needs to be gotten out of
Japan."
"To protect ourselves?"
"Precisely."
"Okay, I'll buy that. Got any ideas?"
"Well, first let's go pick up Tam. Then I'd like to transmit digital
facsimiles of whatever's in here to New York. She can set up a file in
DNI's big NEC mainframe, and only the three of us will know the file
name. It'll be your, and her, insurance policy."
"Can we do that from here?"
"In fifteen minutes. There's the Teleconferencing Center over next to
Electrotechnical. They've got everything we'll need."
"Then let's collect her and get it done fast."
He opened the door of the Toyota, then turned to me. "You know,
Matthew, I think you and Tam ought to be gone from here, too, as soon
as possible. There's a copter pad by the hotel. I'm going to phone for
a MITI chopper to pick you up and take you straight to Narita." He
patted his briefcase. "After we've transmitted the contents of this, I
want you back in New York. I'll call my secretary and have her book the
next flight out; we'll just have somebody bumped if it's full."
"Why don't you come with us? No need for you to face Noda alone."
"Not yet." He hit the ignition. "But I'll be there in spirit."
How prophetic.