We were on our way. I looked out of the window on my side, down throughthe haze covering New York's East River just below us, and took Tam'shand. The NY chopper was a Sikorski S58T, twin engine, two pilots.Events were moving so fast it was hard even to think. No doubt aboutone thing, though: we'd been outmaneuvered, outplanned, outfought. Theonly good part was, he had me as hostage, not Amy. In a final face-offwith Noda, whatever he had in mind, I still figured I could take careof myself, MITI and all. The battle had just begun.
When we walked out of Noda's office, there was no longer any mistakingthe new security arrangements. Dai Nippon was on red alert.
"Well, Matthew, looks like we're about to get the big picture, like itor not."
"On Noda's terms. Which wasn't the way it was supposed to happen."
"I just need to confront Ken."
For whatever good it may do, I found myself thinking. We were knee-deepin confrontations and we still didn't know a damned thing. What didNoda have planned for us? Whatever it was, I had a strong feeling Ididn't want it.
Back in my own office at Dai Nippon, there was only time for one phonecall. The first name that came to mind was Joanna. I wanted to say,Look, if I don't make it through this, you and Amy are well providedfor. She's got a trust fund that's seven figures, and you can have thehouse, the bank account, the whole damn works. Just don't ever let aman named Matsuo Noda anywhere near you or her.
But I couldn't force myself to dial the number. It wasn't Joanna whowas in over her head now; it was me. The subtle or
not-so-subtle difference was enough to stop me cold. I'd vowed tomanage life on my own, and this was no moment to waffle.
So, instead I did the next best thing and called The West Side FreeSchool--which, I might add, may have been free in its disdain forclassical curriculum, but it had very non-free tuition practices. Iidentified myself, announced an emergency, and asked to speak to Ms.Amy Walton. In about a minute she was there.
"Dad, we're in the middle of our Monday Geo-2 exam." She lowered hervoice. "What's the capital of Somalia?"
"Honey, haven't a clue. Just try and do the best you can. Employ thatexceptional brain of yours."
"Thanks."
"Adults don't have to know the capitals of Third World countries.That's a small perk we get for putting up with old age." I paused."Amy, about this weekend."
"Uh, oh." She sighed. "Betcha I know what's next."
"Well, a problem's come up. I've got to take care of a few things."
"Dad, the snow leopards. This weekend is when they're supposed to--"
"Honey, we'll hit the Bronx Zoo the minute I get back. I absolutelypromise."
"You going off somewhere?"
"Just a quick trip."
"Where?" She perked up.
"We'll talk about it when I get back." I wanted to say "if I get back."
"Big secret, huh?"
"Amy, I just wanted to . . . darling, be careful."
"What's the matter? Dad, are you in some kind of trouble?"
How could I answer? Damned right I was, but that wasn't the point ofthe call.
"Sweetie, just . . . just be especially careful. That's all. I'll trymy best to make it up to you at Christmas. Maybe we can still get downto the islands somehow. And Amy . . ."
"Yeah."
"I love you, honey."
"Love you too, Dad. Look, I gotta get back."
"I'm sure Ms. Winters will give you some extra time."
"Don't bet on it. She's an old grouch. She's twenty-eight and an oldmaid."
Twenty-eight. Old? Good God. I keep forgetting what it's like to bethirteen and think of the future as the next three weeks, followed by agaping void.
"Sweetheart, that's not exactly ancient. Believe me. She's probablystill got half a dozen good years left."
"Tell her. Look, I've gotta run."
"All right. Just advise your mother something unexpected came up. Maybeyou and I can make it next weekend. We'll do the snow leopards, that'san absolute guarantee."
"Great. So long, Dad. Have fun."
I almost said "good-bye." Bad luck, I thought. So instead I said, "Takecare."
Shortly thereafter Matsuo Noda, Tam Richardson, and yours truly wereheaded over to New York Helicopter's midtown pad, one of Noda'sbodyguards in the limo with us. The battle was drawn.
Now as I looked down at the boroughs of New York gliding below, allthose little strings of metallic beads lined up on the ribbons ofasphalt, the backyards of New York's solid middle class glimmering withremnants of snow, I found myself wondering what Noda had planned forthem.
Another imponderable still nagged at me as well: what about Akira Mori?Tam reported that by the time she'd arrived at the DNI offices thismorning our friend had vanished. Ditto her information-packed attachecase. As quickly as the lady had come, she'd disappeared back to Tokyo.But not with Noda. She'd gone on her own terms. Was he now using hisnew Concorde to try and head her off. What had she been doing here?Just hand-delivering MITI's latest "guidance"?
Maybe we were finally about to uncover everybody's real agenda.
Again my mind went back to ken and kan, Miyamoto Musashi's famousdiscourse on mental attitude in The Way of the Warrior, which he called_heiho kokoro mochi no koto_. What was merely appearances, _ken_, andwhat was _kan_, the global picture, the essence?
Noda had temporarily gained the upper hand, but now I realized that wasalmost to be expected. After all, he was a swordsman with decades ofexperience. So much for _ken_, my superficial observation. The realtruth, _kan_, lay much deeper. And like all such truths it had to beelementary, elegantly simple.
Which left only two possibilities. Either Matsuo Noda was merely aninsane genius about to show us the inner workings of the massiveorganization he now controlled, or he planned to kill us.
Or both.