Floating City (59 page)

Yes.

Tanaka Gin watched the young man named Yukio Haji as his finger depressed the stop button on the portable cassette recorder. For a long time, Tanaka Gin said nothing. His memory kept repeating the moment he had walked into Ushiba’s corner office at MITI responding to an urgent call. Outside, all work had come to a halt, and everyone was standing at attention at their desks or in the hall as if frozen in time. It was as if he alone possessed the power of motion. He saw again the body of Ushiba crumpled on the floor. Yukio Haji had been standing over him, and Tanaka Gin’s first word was “Sit!” as if to an obedient dog. Then he had turned, closed the office door, and called his office. Soon the police would be all over the place and Ushiba’s final peace would be shattered.

“What happened here?” he had said softly.

He had listened to Haji’s account. Then, he had moved to the window and, staring out at the city, had said almost to himself, “Why did he take his life?”

“I think I know,” Haji had said, and then began to play the tape.

“How did you come by this tape?” Tanaka Gin said. “Did the Daijin ask you to give it to me after his death?”

“No. The Daijin had no knowledge of it. I—”

Holding up his hand, Tanaka Gin said in a moment of insight, “What you say next might incriminate you. You might forfeit your job, your career, everything.”

But Haji was shaking his head. “The Daijin was my mentor, Prosecutor. He taught me that
kanryodo
is all that matters.”

Peering at the young man in a different light, Tanaka Gin nodded curtly. “Very well. Proceed.”

“Several months ago I was approached by one of Tetsuo Akinaga’s people. You see, I have a gambling problem, Prosecutor. I play the stock market, and of late, I have had serious reversals. I have had to close out positions I have held on margin. You understand.”

“You needed more money than you made at MOT.”

Haji nodded. He sat very straight, his head held high. Tanaka Gin understood. In other circumstances such a confession would have brought him only shame, but now his pain had metamorphosed into sacrifice. Tanaka Gin admired this man’s strict sense of honor.

“Somehow, Akinaga got wind of my circumstances, and in a foolish moment, I took his money. I settled my debts and began searching for a night job so that I could pay him back. That was when I understood how foolish I had been. Akinaga himself came to see me. He didn’t want his money back. Instead, he wanted me to report on the Daijin’s doings. He wanted me to spy for him.”

“You have told me that Ushiba was your mentor. You would not have been at MITI without him.”

“Yes.”

“Then Akinaga put you in a most unfortunate position.”

“That was what I at first thought. I tossed and turned all night in a frenzy of indecision. Then something odd hit me full force. What would Akinaga want with information on the Daijin unless there was some connection between them? And if mere
was
a connection, what mischief was Akinaga up to wanting me to spy on Ushiba-san? I made my pact with the demon. I accepted Akinaga’s form of repayment.”

At that moment, there was a sharp knock on the door. Tanaka Gin barked a command and a pair of plainclothes detectives entered the room. Tanaka Gin flashed his credentials, gave them a brief rundown of what had occurred, then hustled Haji out of there, claiming him as a material witness in his ongoing investigation of Yoshinori’s activities. As they went out, he pocketed the cassette recorder with the tape Haji had made of the last conversation between Ushiba and Akinaga.

Outside, in the street, Tanaka Gin said, “Have you any knowledge of Floating City or Torch?”

“None. I was mystified by that section of the conversation.”

“Akinaga spoke of killing Mikio Okami. You know nothing of this, either?”

“No, sir.”

It was clear that the young man was telling the truth. “Why did you throw in with Akinaga?”

“To help the Daijin, of course. I figured if I could find out what Akinaga was up to, I could warn the Daijin.”

Tanaka Gin snapped the tape out of the machine. “Did Akinaga have you attend other meetings with Ushiba-san?”

“No. This was the first. He seemed to gain some perverse pleasure in it. I didn’t understand why until I heard how he had gained control over the Daijin.”

Tanaka Gin knew this was why Ushiba had taken his life. It had not been the cancer. He had told him the disease was in remission, been in remission, and in any event, Ushiba had mentally mastered the disease. He knew from their talks that Ushiba would choose his own way to die. He could not bear being forced into a prison, which was what Akinaga had done.

“One other thing,” Tanaka Gin said now. “Does the word
Godaishu
mean anything to you?”

“No.”

Tanaka Gin nodded. “You’ve done well, Haji-san. Your Daijin would have been proud of you. But if I am to arrest and indict Akinaga, I can do nothing to shield you. Everything you have told me and perhaps more will come out. Your career at MITI is over.”

Haji gave a small bow. “Thank you for your kind words, Prosecutor. In the days to come I shall not forget them.”

“You’re Mikio Okami’s mole buried deep inside Dedalus’s machine,” Croaker said.

He could sense Vesper smiling at him. “The detective at work.”

“I had it all worked out the other way around.”

“It’s a good thing for you you were wrong. Dedalus sent me over here to the Knife River DARPA lab to find out what you were up to. But he neglected to inform me he was coming himself.”

“Then you’ve put yourself in extreme jeopardy. Once Dedalus figures out you’ve helped me your cover is blown.”

“We’ve got to get out of here first. But the truth is, once you’d penetrated DARPA by asking him about Serman, all our fates were set. He decided to trap you here, and I knew I had to get you and Serman out of the facility. Once Dedalus got his hands on the doctor here, everything was going to blow up in my face anyway.”

They were still in their dark lair inside the experimental nucleonics complex. No sounds had come from the storeroom for some time. Serman had begun to shiver. This was not his metier, and he was clearly frightened, but he was doing his best to hold himself together.

Croaker moved a bit away from the scientist, and intuiting his intent, Vesper followed him. “Okami’s in the gravest danger,” he said. “I think Caesare Leonforte knows he’s in London. One of Bad Clams’s thugs followed me while I was shadowing you. I took care of him, but later I was almost killed and I suspect Leonforte was behind the attempt.”

Vesper’s voice seemed unsteady. “Christ, if you’re right I think now Okami will be killed along with countless Londoners unless your partner, Nicholas Linnear, is able to keep Torch from leaving Floating City.”

“We’ve got to get out of here and back to London as quickly as we can.”

“Dedalus will never allow that to happen.”

“Fuck Dedalus.” Croaker was worried about Serman. He did not like how nervous the scientist had become. “We’ve got to back Nicholas up, whatever the cost. If he fails to stop Torch in Vietnam, it’ll be up to us to do it inside London.”

“I agree, but we’ve got to be careful as we go along. Remember, the people who took this route before us never made it out.”

“What the hell are you two talking about? We’ll never make it either.”

“Keep a stiff upper lip, Doctor,” Croaker whispered. To Vesper, he said, “What did you mean before when you said Dedalus will never allow us to get to London?”

“Dedalus along with Caesare Leonforte and the Yakuza
oyabun
Tetsuo Akinaga want Okami dead, each for his own reasons. We now know that Akinaga lusts to be Kaisho; Caesare believes that killing Okami will stop the intelligence passed through the Nishiki network and cut off the Goldonis’ main source of influence; and Dedalus, no doubt has some nasty skeletons in his closet he doesn’t want exposed.”

“You mean they’re all involved with Floating City and Torch because they’re all part of the Godaishu.”

Vesper nodded. “That’s the common denominator.”

“So this is what Okami has been maneuvering towards: flushing all his enemies out into the open.”

“Yes. He suspected that Floating City and its Torch weapon would provide too compelling a lodestone—their greed combined with their enmity to make them move precipitously against him. Now he’s marked them all.”

Croaker could only marvel at the audacity and the scope of the plan. “But putting himself squarely in the crosshairs—”

“It was the only way to get them to come into the light.”

“But Goldoni lost his life because of it. This was a desperate gamble on the Kaisho’s part.”

Vesper shook her head. “I think
calculated
is a more accurate description; it was absolutely vital that we identify the person inside the inner council who was undermining the Kaisho’s authority. The stakes are as high as they can get— Dominic Goldoni knew that when he and Okami formulated their plan together.”

On that point, Croaker could not argue. He scuttled over to where Serman huddled, spoke to him quietly for a moment before returning.

“Is he all right?” Vesper asked. “He seems frightened out of his mind.”

“That’s about the size of it. But he’ll make it.” Croaker lowered his voice as he returned to their original subject. “One thing still disturbs me. How would Okami, a Japanese, be privy to the secrets he passed on through the Nishiki network?”

“A good question. Someone is supplying him with the dirt.”

Croaker was stunned. “Then Okami is not the source of the Nishiki intelligence.”

“Contrary to what Caesare and everyone else believes, no. But certainly it’s his contacts who are providing him—and the Goldonis—with their leverage in Washington.”

They were heading down the dark shaft on all fours. Croaker kept one eye on Serman, who still appeared dazed by terror. He wondered what the scientist must be making of this conversation. Perhaps he was not even listening.

The air was clean, if not fresh, and they could hear the whir of the exhaust turbines. Vesper was leading them toward the sound, and Croaker understood what she had in mind. The turbines vented air from the labs; they had to do that on the outside of the building. Had the tunnelers had the same thought? If so, what had stopped them from reaching the exhaust vents?

“What were you up to here?” he asked.

“By accident I stumbled on one of Abramanov’s piggybacked transmissions to Serman. I followed up on it and discovered what the two scientists were working on. I reported to Okami. By that time, he knew that Abramanov was inside Floating City, and he became intensely interested about the transuranic isotope Abramanov had created. It was a terrible stroke of fate that it had fallen into the hands of Rock and Mick Leonforte, and Okami knew he had to do everything in his power to stop them from turning element 114m into a weapon. We were monitoring them every step of the way.”

“Until the very end, when Serman here failed to deliver his final report.” She turned to the scientist. “Why did you do that?”

“Once I discovered that I couldn’t create element 114m, I saw the reprieve I had been given.” Serman looked at Vesper. “I knew it couldn’t be long before your people, who were reading my reports, would have asked me to re-create a similar isotope. If it wasn’t to be 114m, then it would be 115 or 116 or 117 until I found a stable transuranic isotope that would provide as clean a fission event as 114m. I want no part of that because the destructive possibilities are too alluring for most men to ignore.”

Croaker saw Vesper’s eyes glittering in the semidarkness. Neither of them were in a position to contradict Serman. They continued along the shaft, the noise of the exhaust generators becoming ever louder. At length, the shaft split in two.

“Which way?” Croaker asked.

Vesper listened, then shook her head. “I can’t tell.”

“To the left,” Serman said.

“Are you sure, Doctor?” Vesper said.

“I know this lab better than you do, my dear.”

They took the left fork. It was becoming increasingly hot as the way narrowed. They were obliged to turn sideways in order to make any headway.

“If the shaft narrows any more,” Croaker said, “we’ll have to turn back.”

“We can’t,” Serman replied, shivering. “This is the only way.”

Vesper, who was leading, came up short. “Look.”

Croaker peered over her shoulder. A rectangular beam of light glowed, emanating from what appeared to be a gap in the shaft, after which it continued into darkness.

“I think the gap’s too wide for us to span,” Vesper said.

Croaker shook his head. “I think I can stretch across it.”

“You won’t have to try,” Serman said from behind them. “We have to go down.”

“What?” Croaker turned around.

Vesper looked at Serman. “But I can hear turbines from ahead of us.”

The doctor nodded. “That’s because there was a set of internal exhaust fans in that direction, but we daren’t even get close to them. They vent the hot cells where we use plutonium and the transuranic isotopes. The fans direct the contaminated air into water chambers. Within minutes of inhaling the radioactive particles, we’d be so sick we’d be unable to go on. Within hours we’d be dead.”

Vesper and Croaker exchanged glances in the glow of the light rising up through the vertical shaft. Peering over the side of the abyss, she said, “It’s a helluva long way down. I can’t see where it ends.” She turned to Serman. “Are you sure about this?”

“I only know there’s no other place for us to go but down,” Serman said, but staring over the side, he looked dubious. “Maybe this was why the test subjects never made it out of here.”

“It doesn’t matter. We have no choice,” Croaker said, and Vesper nodded her mute agreement.

The problem was the humidity. He was in the tropics, and even in winter, the dampness had saturated his clothing.

It wouldn’t burn, and that meant a major reassessment of the situation. He had figured to set his clothes on fire with the cigar butt Mick had dropped. That would have brought the guards, and they would have had to haul him out of the cage, and that was all he would need.