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wanted to…harboring in his heart this hatred for his old man…but now at the moment when the minister was speaking of the fulfilled life of the dearly departed； he saw the eulogy for a lie； and this guy knew that he had to see his father again。
〃Soon after his mother was buried； the guy traveled west to Chicago； where his father had taken up residence。 He ate lunch at a great rib soul shack on the South Side； where he was served by a black woman who had hickory ash in her hair； then he walked to the building where his father worked。
''His father was a reporter for a Chicago paper； and when his son asked to see him； the guy was told that his father was out running down a story。 No one knew where he was or when he would be back。
〃This guy said he was the reporter's son； that he hadn't seen his father in years； and that he'd wait。 No one said a thing。
〃He was shown to his father's desk； and he sat down in an old scarred swivel chair that squeaked when he moved it back and forth。
〃He saw the clutter on his father's desk and thought of the clutter of his mother's life。 He saw the old IBM typewriter on his father's desk and thought of how often his mother longed to hear from his father； walking to the mailbox with an expression of hope； returning with the weight of a secret defeat。 Only it hadn't been a secret from her son； who saw everything； and hurt when she hurt。
''This guy opened the drawers of his father's desk one by one as if he hoped to reveal the ghosts of the past he could not remember； the specters of a past that might have been。 In the lower right…hand drawer； underneath a half…empty box of Kleenех； he pulled out a framed picture of his mother and himself as a small boy。 He could not remember the picture having been taken。 He put the photograph away； as if he were not really certain that little boy was him。
〃Time passed； day into night。 The son fell asleep； his head on his folded arms； his arms on his father's desk。 When he awoke； he saw his father standing in front of the desk； peering down at him。
'' ' Son；' his father said； 'what the hell are you doing here？' ''
There was silence for some time。 Even Grace Slick had the sense to keep quiet。 Tori did not stir； though she felt the need to cut the silence with music。
At last Bernard Godwin got up； fetched two more Kirins for them from the refrigerator。 Tori heard the tops popping； and it was a kind of music。 She took the bottle Bernard offered her； but she didn't drink it right away。
Bernard said； 〃I guess in my case the truth was simple： my father was a dyed…in…the…wool sonuvabitch。 People who knew him better than either I or my mother did said he had to be like that to be such a good reporter； but I didn't give a damn what they said。 As far as I could see； he was an abject failure。 But there you are； everyone has to have his own opinion。〃
〃Maybe we're not so different；〃 Tori said at last。
Bernard Godwin took a thoughtful swig of his beer。 〃Well； if life has taught me anything； it's this： truth is a plex ani…mal。 Every time you think you've caught it by the tail； it turns around and bites you on the ass。〃
Tori laughed； but she knew he was serious。
As the gray end of the night became the pearl…blue beginning of a new day； Tori and Bernard Godwin strolled through a Tokyo filled with the last rumblings of delivery trucks。 The bridges were filled with them。 From the Sumida River horns sounded as fishing boats neared the Taikiji wholesale fish market。
Tori found herself recalling how Bernard had done nothing； not even twitch； when Godzilla had lifted him off the floor。 Now she wondered what would have happened if she had not intervened。 She was not at all certain that she would have put money on Godzilla。 She thought she would give anything to see Bernard Godwin at work。
〃I guess now's as good a time as any to present your proposition；〃 Tori said。 The sky above Tokyo looked clean this early in the morning； and the city seemed immense； a world unto itself。
〃I want you to work for me；〃 Bernard Godwin said。
〃Is the work legal？〃
''I take it as a good sign that you asked。'' Bernard took a last swallow of beer； gave a little belch。 〃Pardon me。〃
Tori smiled。
''What I do…and what you will do should you decide to join me…is legal in the broadest sense of the word。''
〃Meaning？〃
〃Meaning that no matter what we bee involved in； we would never be brought before a court of law。''
〃But。 。 。 ？〃
〃What we do is； in another sense； amoral。 We are beyond the laws man constructs。 This does not mean that we are lawless。 Far from it。 Much like the Japanese； whom you obviously love and admire so much； we create and define our own set of laws。〃 Bernard's eyes seemed to have closed； as if he were on the verge of sleep。 〃Interested？〃
Tori almost said； God； yes； how soon can I start？ Instead she drank half her Kirin； looked up at the forest of monstrous towers through which they were walking； and said； 〃I'll give it some thought。〃
Three days later Tori gave Bernard Godwin the answer she knew she would give him from the first。 The trouble was； she did not want to go home。 He understood this； just as he seemed to understand the rest of her character； carefully hidden from all others like an enigma in the center of a stone pyramid。
〃I want you here in Japan；〃 Bernard told her。 〃We have no one with your expertise in this quarter of the globe。 We've found it impossible to infiltrate anyone of substance into the Japanese underworld。 But you're already in it。 You're already respected； and more importantly； feared。''
Tori said； 〃I think you've got that the wrong way around。〃
〃We'll see；〃 Bernard said 。。。
We'II see。
〃Oh； God；〃 Tori moaned softly。 〃Oh； God。〃 And with Bernard Godwin's voice still echoing in her mind； she stumbled to the phone； dialed a number she had long ago mitted to memory。
There was a great deal of waiting while the switching was acplished。 But when at last she heard Russell Slade's voice； crackly with mobile phone interference； she said； 〃A bientot。 You were right。 I'm ing。〃
TWO
TOKYO/MOSCOW
No one knew in advance that Kunio Michita's nakodo…his go…between…was going to mit ritual suicide； save Honno Kansei。 Honno worked for Kunio Michita。 As personal secretary to Tokyo's most prominent businessman； Honno was privy to many secrets： impending deals； mergers； acquisitions。 She could easily have put this knowledge to work on the Tokyo stock market； but she didn't。 Honno was adept at keeping secrets。 She had made herself that way out of necessity。 She carried a secret buried deep inside her： the horrific knowledge that she had been born during the year of hinoeuma。 It had been a mistake； of course。 Her father had never forgiven her mother； believing； of course； that the pregnancy was her fault。 If he had e to love Honno； he had never showed it。 He always made her feel soto； an outsider in her own family。
Why？ According to the ancient Chinese zodiac； hinoeuma was a year of the horse that appeared every sixty years。 Legend had it that women born in hinoeuma became husband killers。 Consequently； there were far fewer births in Japan in the year of hinoeuma than during any other year。