Floating City (51 page)

Now Vietnam was reaping what it had sowed. If one believed in the concept of sin and punishment, this would be a perfect place to abide.

Nicholas waited patiently until Van Kiet’s rambling homicidal diatribe had run its course. “Seiko was convinced that Tachi would eventually have killed me.”

“What?” That startled Van Kiet out of his drunken torpor. “She was a liar.”

“Maybe not.” Nicholas told him the story of Tachi’s vulnerable position inside the Yakuza. “She was right about one thing,” he concluded. “With the continuing police crackdown on the Yakuza, if you’re passed over for power, you’re nothing. You might as well join a powerful clan as a street thug.”

“I guess it’s impossible to know any man’s heart,” Van Kiet said, staring bleakly out at his half-darkened city.

“I need to speak to her father. Do you know where he currently is?”

A bottle of liquor had been placed on their table. Van Kiet knocked back another shot, filled his glass.

“He has an apartment here but it’s rarely occupied overnight,” Van Kiet said. “He uses it almost exclusively for business meetings in the city. He lives on a large estate outside My Tho, the capital of Tien Giang Province. It’s quite a magnificent residence, about fifty minutes by fast car south of here.”

“Will you drive me?”

Van Kiet nodded. “First thing in the morning.”

Huynh Van Dich’s estate overlooked the Tien River. It was surrounded by banana plantations straddling the river, which were owned by one of his many companies. He had leathery skin the color of mahogany, a handsome man even at the age of seventy-three, with silver hair and the eyes of a hawk. He had remained unaffected either by ideology or by politics. His cudgel was economics and he wielded it with ruthless authority. He made so much money for the country that no politician, military tactician, or ideologue was prepared to cross him. Perhaps that was as much because of his self-imposed neutrality in all matters. He wouldn’t threaten their maneuvering if they would keep their noses out of his business.

In its own way, the arrangement had worked; it had made him a wealthy man, though hardly influential in the succession of administrations mat had come and gone in Hanoi and Saigon.

He was small and compact, leaning perpetually forward as if he were hard of hearing. In fact, he was in a hurry. When he walked, he ran, and when he ran, he sprinted like a deer. He seemed not at all to feel his seventy-three years.

He was not happy to see Van Kiet but was curious to meet his companion. He invited them in for a breakfast of fried bananas and rice with fish paste. They ate at a long wooden table that looked out on a terrace and, beyond, a stand of coconut palms on the slope down to the river. The sun, breaking through layers of blue-gray cloud, shimmered on the water like gold dust strewn in the shallows.

There was no sign of his new wife and family. All was still, save for the sounds of the birds and insects, the clatter of the wind through the palm fronds. Perhaps he liked to dine alone.

The three men said little through the meal. When the plates had been cleared and French-roast coffee had been served, Dich said, “What brings you all the way out here, Chief Inspector?”

Van Kiet said nothing.

“Chu
Dich,” Nicholas said slowly, “I am sorry to have to tell you your daughter is dead.”

Dich looked at him inscrutably. “The body?”

“I’ve arranged for it to be flown back to Saigon,” Van Kiet said.

“Do you wish to know the circumstances of her death?” Nicholas asked.

“I never knew the circumstances of her life, so I doubt I could understand how or why she died,” Dich said with implacable logic.

Van Kiet stared out at the line of narrow dikes. A slender figure was crossing a pole bridge, its back bent beneath a heavy weight. He rose, excusing himself.

When they were alone, Nicholas said, “If it’s of any consolation, I was involved with your daughter, I cared for her.”

Now Dich swung his head in Nicholas’s direction. “So you say you cared for Seiko,
Chu
Linnear. Did you protect her?”

“In the end I think she protected me.”

Dich stood up. “I need to go to make my rounds. Will you accompany me?”

They went through the open French doors out onto the terra-cotta terrace. The wet smell of the plantation was everywhere. Dich led them down brick steps and along a path that wound its way through a garden of colorful flowering plants.

At the end there was another set of steps that led down to an area of hard-packed earth. No foliage grew here, and despite the early hour, the sun beat down on them without mercy.

They came upon a series of wooden sheds within which were stacked bamboo cages of all sizes and shapes. Creatures writhed within them coiling and uncoiling, though some slept like the dead.

“This snake farm is my hobby,” Dich said. “I come here to unwind from the tensions of the day or night.”

Was he kidding? Nicholas recognized cobras, kraits, puff adders, but there were all manner of Viperidae that he could not identify. As they moved through the sheds, Nicholas saw huge aquariums filled with venomous marine snakes, appearing from behind rocks, undulating through thickets of translucent vegetation.

“We make all sorts of sera here,” Dich said. “Cures for ague, fever, anesthetics for surgery, and suppressants for coughing fits and hyperventilation. We extract not only the venom but the blood, gallbladder, brain gland, and flesh, which we desiccate and grind into powder to increase and sustain sexual energy.” Dich went from cage to cage. “In a way, these are like children. You feed them, house them, raise them in most instances, and if you are not painstakingly cautious, they will sink their fangs into your flesh.”

“Seiko asked me to come see you.”

Dich stared into the sun. “So at last I understand something about my daughter.”

“Do you know she was involved with a Yakuza
oyabun
named Tachi Shidare?”

“I know something of Shidare,” he said noncommittally.

“She believed he had made a deal with another, more powerful
oyabun
in order to gain influence quickly in Tokyo.”

“Yes. Foolishly, Shidare had done just that.” Dich led him farther into the estate, where rows of magnificent orchids rose from the dark, rich earth.

Nicholas, surrounded by the almost unearthly beauty of the exotic flowers, felt a tightness in his belly. Now he had confirmation he had been seeking that Seiko had told him the truth.
You cannot forgive me for saving you from Tachi.
He was filled with rage and frustration. He wanted her back, alive again and reunited with her father. He saw now that this would have been the only way to heal them both.

“Which
oyabun
was it?” he asked. “Chosa?”

Dich, who was squatting beside a violet specimen speckled with gold, said, “The older, more experienced, more devious of the two.” He checked the earth around the flower stem. “Tetsuo Akinaga.”

When Nicholas heard the name, he knew is his heart the enemy was Akinaga. The brother of his childhood friends, the son of the man who had been his second father, who had introduced him to Koei. Now Akinaga wanted him dead. And this simple truth lay at the core of his hatred for the Yakuza. It was what he could not tolerate and never forgive—that those who were closest to you were often your most implacable foe.

“Tetsuo was always the brilliant tactician,” he said. “The Shikei clan was perennially second-best when he ascended to
oyabun,
but he soon rectified that situation.”

Dich rose, dusted off his hands. “Do you know why he would want you dead?”

“I loved his father, Tsunetomo. He was like a second father to me. I know though Tetsuo outwardly revered his father, he was secretly contemptuous of his business acumen. He couldn’t wait for Tsunetomo to die so he could assume control.”

“Could that be the entire explanation for why he’s come after you now?”

Nicholas considered this. Perhaps it explained why the attack came in the devious and oblique fashion typical of Tetsuo, Nicholas thought, but it didn’t answer the question of why. Was Tetsuo still jealous of his relationship with his father, or had there been some connection between Tsunetomo and the Colonel of which Nicholas was not aware? He knew there was a great deal about his father’s life in postwar Tokyo he knew nothing about. He also realized this was because of deliberate actions on his father’s part. Why? Too many questions he could not yet answer.

“I think this is a question of no little import,” Dich said, sensing Nicholas’s confusion. He indicated they should walk along a path of flat stones that wound through the forest of orchids. “It’s all a matter of allegiance, you see.” Dich hurried along the path at his peculiar pace. “Once, this was a simple affair. You joined forces with someone and then honor dictated that you upheld that alliance until the end. Now
honor
is a word that has been deleted from the current lexicon. It seems as if it’s every man for himself and a knife in the back for whoever does not come in first. As a result, relationships slither away even before they can be formed. They have become, like Japan, superficial symbols, anachronisms that are manipulated like chess pieces to gain advantage. And like chessmen they are often expendable.”

Dich suggested they return to the veranda of the main house for drinks. They sat at a round bamboo table, drinking icy beers.

“It’s a pity you’re not here on business,
Chu
Linnear,” Dich said. “After decades of intolerable strife Vietnam now has a legitimate chance to become a thriving business environment for companies of all nations. I have nothing but optimism for the future. It’s just too bad that others here do not share my enthusiasm.”

“Do you think the Communists will try again to dominate the south?”

“Absolutely not,” Dich said flatly. “They are in retreat, economically and morally. They no longer have a core, or a reason for being. The people have seen their lies put into practice.” He shook his head. “No, Vietnam is safe from its old enemies. It is its new foes which worry me.”

As Dich continued to speak easily of his role in the new, open Vietnam, Nicholas could not shake the feeling that this mysterious man whom both Seiko and Tachi had been reluctant to talk about was the glue that held these particular dramatis personae together in a kind of magnetic frisson. How and why were the mysteries Nicholas suspected he’d be well advised to solve before he made his final assault on Floating City.

Dich extracted two more beers from an ice chest, opened them, and slid one over.

“I cautioned Seiko not to become involved with the
oyabun
Tachi Shidare, but as you no doubt gathered, she was a willful child and often did not know what was best for her.”

Dich drained his beer. “I know who you are,
Chu
Linnear, and I have a message for you. It is from your friend Mikio Okami.”

“Okami-san is alive?”

Dich smiled thinly. “Yes. But for now he must remain in hiding; the danger to him still exists. In fact, in some ways, it is greater,” Dich said softly. “But, for now, that is beside the point. Listen to what I say. There are events that must occur before he can return. These events would not be happening had he stayed in place as the Kaisho.”

“I don’t understand.”

Dich inclined his head. “I think you understand quite a bit more than you’re letting on. You know something of how Okami thinks. How could you not? He learned it from your father.”

Nicholas said nothing, and Dich was content—even determined—to press on while they were alone together.

“Like the Colonel, Okami thinks in great leaps—leaps of faith, some have called it. He is a strategist of the highest order. When he determined the strength of the plot against his life and that of his partner Dominic Goldoni, he developed a counterplan. He was too late to save Goldoni, which was a tragedy for all of us.”

Nicholas noted the “us,” and now—had Dich been right about this?—he began to see the skein forming, a widening web that overlapped cultures, national boundaries, even ideology. Something extraordinary was out there, spinning in the darkness, and he was acutely conscious that he was at last being given access to it.

“You’re a third partner, aren’t you? It was Okami, Goldoni, and you against the Godaishu.”

Dich nodded, almost impatiently. “Of course. My relationship with Okami goes back many years, but for now that is irrelevant. Okami saw the changes being wrought in the Godaishu. It was his creation, after all, so he could see the corruption beginning like veins of bacteria in tissue. The power of the Kaisho was being eroded from within the inner council, but there was no way of determining the enemy without bringing total civil war within the Godaishu and the Yakuza. This consequence was anathema to Okami, who had agreed to ascend to the level of Kaisho precisely to keep the peace among warring
oyabun.

“So he disappeared. He knew the consequences of his absence, he could sense it through his ability with
koryoku.
But he also determined that he could more effectively pull the strings that needed to be pulled from the shadows of exile.

“His enemy will be revealed. The misshapen power politics that has infected the inner council will be purged, and the office of the Kaisho will be restored.”

“How can you be certain of all this?”

Dich pretended not to hear Nicholas. “I know where you are headed and I want to do what I can to prepare you.”

“Prepare me? I don’t understand.”

“You are going where no one has gone unbidden and survived. Before you make such an attempt you must be healed.”

Nicholas felt a kind of electric crackling along his arms and spine. Tiny hairs fluttered at the base of his neck. Why didn’t he ask Dich what he was talking about? Was it because part of him already knew?

Dich glanced at his watch. “I am required in another part of the estate for a little while. I could see you liked my children. Go to the snake farm, you know the way. You need to satisfy your curiosity.”