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Bay's eyes； dark as coffee； held his。 〃I will tell you a story about this place where we are headed。 It is called Cu Chi。 You have heard of it？〃
〃Yes； I have。〃
〃During the war； the Twenty…fifth Division of the U。S。 Army established a major base of operations in Cu Chi in order to deal with the VC menace so close to South Vietnam's capital。 No one knew how the VC were able to maneuver at will so deep inside enemy territory。 Months of grunts being found murdered in their tents every morning finally led to the discovery of the tunnels beneath the base camp； but at a horrific cost in human life。 By sheer chance； the Twenty…fifth Division had made camp directly atop the tunnels。〃
Nicholas thought about this for some time。 〃Was Tinh operating too close to the man who now controls the poppy trade？〃
〃The poppy trade is not all he controls。〃
No wonder Chief Inspector Van Kiet had refused Shindo's bribe； Nicholas thought。 He was scared shitless。 〃Bay； do you know this man's name？〃
〃Chu Goto； or whatever your real name is； I told you that I was an independent operator。 That does not mean I cannot precipitate enemies should I bee foolish。〃
They were interrupted by a guttural noise from the bus driver。 Bay quickly went forward and Nicholas heard them speak briefly。 Even from that distance he could discern the note of urgency in their voices。
When Bay returned； her face was pale。 〃We're in trouble。 There is a police roadblock ahead。 I believe they are looking for us。〃
〃Why？ We've done nothing。〃
Bay jerked her head。 〃Nothing except leave the scene of a murder； show up unescorted in a highly restricted area； conspire to trade in contraband materials … and those are just three of the legitimate charges that could be leveled at us。〃
〃Yes； but …〃
〃Thirty years in prison without a trial or hope of parole。 It's a lifetime。 And your government； Chu Goto； has no formal diplomatic relations with Vietnam。 If you are caught； you have absolutely no recourse。〃
She was leading him toward the rear of the bus； where the driver had opened the accordion door。
〃And that's not even counting the obvious … that the police are on the take from people far more powerful than we are。 If they catch us； we'll be lucky if we aren't executed on the spot。〃
Her last words were cut off by the wind as she jumped into the night。 Nicholas leapt after her without hesitation。
For a moment； Chief Minister Ushiba was blind with the pain。 Then his vision cleared and he was able to see the simple wooden edifice of Yasukuni。
The hoarse shouts of patriots in years past still echoed through the smoggy afternoon； oblivious to the modern din of passing traffic。
The Yasukuni Shinto shrine； near the moat surrounding the Imperial Palace in the heart of Tokyo； had bee a memorial for Japan's war dead； and to the bravery of kamikaze deaths； one of the war machine's most notorious sacrifices to a victory in the Pacific that had been doomed by superior will and radiation。
Ushiba resisted putting the flat of his hand against his gut； swallowing a pill instead。 Now he took three a day instead of one； and he struggled to keep his mind sharp in the face of the potent painkiller。 Where would it lead？ He suspected that he was already an addict； unable to face each day without the mask of calm the narcotic provided； damping the level of his suffering to tolerable levels。
He lit a cigarette； drew the smoke deep into his lungs。 As he moved toward the shrine； he willed his legs into their normal stride； thinking as he did of the history of Yasukuni； how in the latter half of the 1930s it had bee the focal point for the government…propagated right…wing demonstrations used to whip up the population into a militaristic frenzy。
Recently； a high court decided that ministers were forbidden to worship at the shrine in an official capacity because it violated the postwar constitution insisting upon a distinct separation between religion and the state。 But； of course； that was an American…written constitution； and many ministers chose to ignore the court decision。
A few snowy…haired old men were at the shrine； soldiers no doubt； dreaming of the war and their part in it； remembering patriots who were no longer with them。 Ushiba ground his cigarette beneath his heel； then stood beside them。 He rang the bell to wake the kami of the shrine； then clapped his hands twice； bowing his head in prayer。
He dropped some money between the red wooden slats of the collection box； then he went to the nearby building。 It appeared closed for repairs because signs were up and uniformed workmen were scuttling all around it。 On closer inspection； however； it was clear that these were no workmen。
One of them； the largest of the lot； glowered at Ushiba before recognizing him。 Then he bowed deferentially； took up some tools； and stepped aside。
Ushiba went into the building； which was a museum memorating the kamikaze dead。 Tattered flags； banners； and hurried poems written in the blood of the heroes of the war adorned the walls； all of them carefully annotated。
And Ushiba； overe with emotion； recalled a haiku：
The wind brings enough of fallen leaves
To make a fire
One man was in the museum； tall； almost gangly； so thin his wrist bones were knobs。 He turned when he heard Ushiba； and a slow smile spread across his face。 This was Tetsuo Akinaga； oyabun of the Shikei clan； and the third member of the Kaisho's inner council； which included Akira Chosa and Tachi Shidare； Tomoo Kozo's successor。 Not co…incidentally； these were also the oyabun who had helped build the Godaisbu with Mikio Okami。 Since the Kaisho's puster； Ushiba's role； it seemed； had expanded from adviser to full…fledged council member。
〃A fitting place for us to meet； eh； Daijin？〃
〃Indeed〃
Akinaga had the right to call him by name； but the oyabun seemed to feel more fortable using titles rather than names。 Ushiba privately believed it helped Akinaga delineate in his mind the tangled webs of power that came together whenever the members of the Godaishu met。
He had steel gray hair that he kept unfashionably long； pulled back in the style of the old samurai。 His flat cheeks and stubby； flat nose made his deep…set eyes even more startling。 Like Chosa； he was in his late fifties； but he seemed older。 Age and； Ushiba suspected； the promises of power had turned the corners of his mouth down so that he appeared perpetually disapproving of whatever came to pass。 He was a man who had seen the turn of the knife blade from foe to friend and therefore knew there was no substantive difference between the two。
〃The quality of the silence here is extraordinary；〃 Akinaga said。 〃Like the hush that es over the countryside just at sunset。〃 He laughed。 〃I fear I am being quite poetical in my old age。〃
Ushiba； feeling the fire in his belly； understood。 He knew that whatever solace was left him now came from the often startlingly juxtaposed imagery of his beloved haiku。 And； of course； from what the Godaishu was about to execute。
The two men walked beneath the banners of the fallen heroes； feeling the weight and obligation of that most ambivalent of Japanese concepts； the nobility