Intimate Betrayal (30 page)

B
y the time Maxwell returned to the suite, it was fast approaching 3:00 a.m. After leaving the geisha house, he'd dismissed Daisuke for the night and had taken up residence behind the wheel. He drove around the crowded streets of Tokyo for hours, the flashing neon lights from the countless nightclubs and restaurants bounced off the tinted windows in rapid succession, like traveling through a prism.

Over and over again, he rewound his memory tape and replayed the meeting with Sukihara. He still could not shake the familiar feeling that ran through him like a current, even hours later. The sensation was similar to what he'd felt when he met Mioshi, only more potent. Then to discover that they were brother and sister only compounded his sense of unease.

Sukihara. She'd said it was a common Japanese name. Perhaps she was right. But that still did not explain the kinetic energy that flowed back and forth between them.

Suppose the unthinkable was true. Suppose Sukihara Tasaka was his mother—the most powerful and influential woman in Tokyo—and Mioshi Tasaka the
oyaban
of
oyaban
was his uncle.

Later that night as he pulled Reese's warmth closer to his body and whispered his unfathomable thoughts in the dark of night, a shudder ran through him.

 

Reese sat wordlessly on the opposite side of the small dining table, watching Maxwell spin his coffee cup around and around within the circle of the saucer. She took a sip of orange juice and waited. Watching the cup spin was almost hypnotic, but what was even more powerful was watching Max. His body was perfectly still. He appeared not to be breathing. His eyes remained focused on the cup, his only body part in motion was the tip of his index finger as he periodically set the cup spinning with a precise flick.

Although she knew and understood that this “side of him” was all part of Maxwell the man, adjusting to periods of total isolation from him was difficult to master. She also knew that if she spoke to him, right at that moment, or asked the most inane question, he would respond.

Instead, she removed her empty plate and glass from the table and returned them to the cart to be taken away. She slipped out of the room and went to take a shower.

As the water pounded and ran down her body, Reese went back over everything that Maxwell had told her about his meeting with Sukihara and the feelings that went along with it. Feelings were something she placed great stock in. She ran on feelings and instinct, and they very rarely failed her. And right now her feelings were telling her that there was a real reason for Maxwell to experience what he did when he met Mioshi and Sukihara.

Even though the idea that she was his deceased mother—in
the flesh—was far-fetched, nothing was beyond believing to her. They had both been lied to for so long there was no reason to believe that James Knight had been truthful to his son about his mother.

She turned off the water and slid the glass door open. Stepping onto the soft pale pink carpet, she grabbed a thick hotel towel and began wiping herself dry, secretly hoping that she could also wipe away the suspicions that were beginning to grow like weeds in an untended field.

Reese faced herself in the mirror and realized one thing—maybe she wouldn't have to look as far as she thought for Maxwell's mother. She smiled at her reflection, her amber eyes taking on the light of the chase. Now all she needed was a plan.

 

Suki stood still as stone as she waited for her brother to conclude his telephone conversation. She never came to his home unless it was to help with the entertainment of his guests, or if they needed the utmost privacy. Today's visit was due to the latter.

She'd barely slept for more than a few minutes at a time for the entire night. Her petite body was a mass of nerves and tightened muscles. She'd tossed and turned as visions of walls crumbling, flowers wilting and fire-breathing dragons destroying everything in their paths plagued her.

She awoke weak and trembling, realizing the truth behind the nightmarish images. Her world was about to change. All that she knew would disintegrate.

Mioshi cleared his throat, drawing Suki back from her dark thoughts.

“Sister, what brings you here today?” he asked in a clear bass.

“You know why I am here, Mioshi.”

He looked at his sister for a long moment. “I cannot do
what you wish. The deal with your son must and will go through.”

She stepped closer. “Why must it be with Maxwell? You could have your pick of American companies to unite with, Mioshi.”

“That may be true. But what I and Japanese industry can gain from this endeavor cannot be had with another company. He has proposed the best offer. I intend to sign the contracts sealing the deal as soon as possible.”

Suki momentarily turned away, her sense of right and honor warred with her sense of fear. Deep inside she knew her brother was right. A new Japanese-American conglomerate was exactly what her financially struggling country needed.

“Is there nothing I can do or say to change your mind?” she asked in a soft plea.

“Nothing.”

She inhaled a shaky breath. Curtly she bowed her head, turned and walked out. On her ride home she contemplated her options. She had to find a way to keep Murayama from uncovering her secret.

When Suki arrived at home she was met at the door by Honniko.

“
Oyaban,
there is a woman, Reese Delaware, here to see you,” she said. “I have had her wait in the front room.”

Suki frowned. She knew no one by that name. “What does she want?”

“She would not say, only that she must speak with you.”

She was not in the frame of mind to deal with anyone at the moment. But courtesy dictated that she speak with her visitor. To do otherwise would be the height of rudeness. “I'll see her shortly.” Suki moved silently up the stairs to her room, and changed from her street clothing to a simpler single kimono
of off-white raw silk. Moments later she entered the room in which Reese waited.

“Reese Delaware-san, I am Sukihara.” She bowed in greeting and stepped into the room. “How may I be of service?”

Reese was instantly overcome by the regalness of this stunning, petite woman who magnetically drew her into the depths of her ink-black eyes. She stood up. “Ms. Tasaka, I'm a journalist doing a story on the modern geisha.” She gave Suki her best “you can trust me” smile. “I understand that you would be the person to speak with. I hope you can help me.”

Suki smiled thinly. “You honor me, Delaware-san. Why don't we sit. Can I offer you some refreshment—some tea perhaps?”

“No, thank you.”

“Very well. Then let's begin.”

For the next hour, Reese questioned her about the mystique and misconceptions of the geisha, easily lulling Suki into a sense of security. As she listened and took copious notes, she couldn't help but become fascinated by this woman.

Finally, Suki leaned back against the cushions of the settee and folded her hands demurely in front of her. “Was all of that helpful?” She smiled and her dark eyes sparkled.

“Actually,” Reese began, leaning slightly forward, “I was wondering if you knew a man named James Knight. He was stationed here just about the time—” she flipped through her notes “—you began your training.” She looked up and smiled encouragingly, but her smile soon faded. All the color seemed to have drained from Suki's face. Her nostrils flared slightly as if she were struggling for air, and her irises widened. “Are you all right?”

“Why do you ask me about this James…Knight?” she asked reaching deep inside her psyche for calm.

Reese pulled out her lie. “I interviewed him several months ago as part of my research. He said he'd met a woman named Sukihara while he was here. I just wondered…”

Abruptly Suki stood, cutting off Reese's explanation, propriety forgotten. “I'm sorry I can't help you further. I'll show you out.” She turned toward the door.

Reese stood as well but wouldn't be put off, not when she saw the thin veil of veneer begin to crack.

“What do geishas do if they have children?” Reese probed, following Suki to the door. She saw the infinitesimal snap of her head and slight faltering in her precise step.

Suki spun around, her eyes glowing even darker, but her voice remained level. “If it is a girl, the child remains with the mother.”

“What about boys?” Reese pressed.

Suki raised her chin a notch. “Sometimes they are sent away.”

Her eyes locked with Reese's and she had the eerie sensation that Suki was begging her not to go farther. But Reese wouldn't let go, not when she was this close. “Do you have children, Ms. Tasaka?”

Suki swallowed. “No. I do not.” She turned and continued toward the door, Reese close on her heels.

“I only asked because it's such a coincidence that Mr. Knight has a son and his mother is a Japanese woman named Sukihara.”

Suki felt her heart begin to thunder in her chest. Her knees grew weak as a surge of heat flooded her body.

“Very interesting,” Suki said, turning the knob and opening the door. She stood to the side to let Reese pass. “A coincidence, as you Americans say.”

“I'm sure.” Reese gave her a fleeting smile. “Thank you for all of your time and your help, Ms. Tasaka.”

Suki bowed as Reese stepped out and into the sunshine.

 

Suki closed the door and shut her eyes. Her entire body trembled. James. Was his memory of her as crystal clear as hers was of him? She turned away and headed for the stairs. The woman was too close, and Suki sensed that somehow she knew the truth. And if she did, she would eventually get to Maxwell if she hadn't already. She felt the fissure snake its way along the veneer.

 

“How did it go?” Chris asked as Reese took her seat and fastened her belt. He nosed the car into the midday traffic. “You were in there a mighty long time.”

“She's Max's mother all right.”

“She admitted it?” Chris asked, astonishment raising the octave in his voice.

“Not in so many words.” She twisted her puckered lips. “Well…not in any words at all, but she looked like someone stepped on her grave when I mentioned James Knight. She's one cool lady,” she added with admiration. “I can see where Max gets it from.”

“So now what?”

“Now the seed is planted. We'll just have to wait and see what grows.”

Tokyo

Mioshi read the
Asahi Shimbun
—The Rising Sun newspaper—with a gleam in his eye and a smile of enormous pleasure on his lips, the very same article that was creating havoc on the other side of the globe.

Whenever his nephew's company entered the market, people would clamor for a piece of the pie. With a guaranteed 20 percent share, his stock would skyrocket virtually overnight.

If he had a moment's hesitation about consummating the deal, it was gone. He pressed the button on his intercom to signal for Namicho.

“Yes, Tasaka-san,” Namicho responded.

“Try to reach Knight-san. Tell him I'd like to meet with him today, at his earliest convenience—here at my office,” he whispered into the speaker.

“Right away, Tasaka-san.”

Maryland

James went numb when he read the headline of the
Washington Post:
“Top Level Air Force Major Under Investigation.” The story went on to explain that Frank Murphy, head of Air Force Intelligence, was under investigation for possible fraud. It further eluded to computer theft of a program originally designed and developed by Maxwell Knight, CEO of M.K. Enterprises in New York, and touted as Air Force technology. If the findings were proven true, the U.S. government could owe Maxwell Knight millions of dollars in reparations. Mr. Knight was out of the country and unavailable for comment.

The article also indicated that the information was obtained from an inside source who was part of the theft and cover-up. James folded the paper and dropped it on the table.

Claudia walked into the kitchen, her arms wrapped around a blue mesh laundry basket. She stopped short when she saw her husband staring at nothingness.

“James, what is it? What's wrong?” The basket landed on the floor with a thud. She hurried across the canary yellow linoleum to his side. “James.” She pressed her hand to his chest, then followed his gaze to the newspaper on the tabletop. Her heartbeat quickened. A sense of dread filled her as she picked it up and read the front page.

Her soft brown eyes widened. “What does this mean for you, James—for us?” The paper fluttered from her fingers and fell to the floor.

James's jaw clenched. “It means that once they begin investigating Murphy, there will be no stopping them. And now that the
Post
has gotten a whiff of it, they'll be like a starving dog with a bone. It's only a matter of time before the whole Delaware incident is uncovered as well.”

Claudia swallowed down the sour taste that rose from her belly and filled her mouth. “You've to go to them, James. Tell them what you know before they find out for themselves.”

“There's still a chance they won't, Claudia,” he answered working his bottom lip with his teeth.

Claudia heard the false note of hope in his voice. “How can you convince me of that, James, when you can't convince yourself?” She walked away, leaving her husband to stand alone with his conscience.

 

Frank Murphy read the headlines of the
Post
while sitting at his kitchen table. He knew it was coming. He'd been in meetings all week attempting to put plans into motion to control the damage.

Wracked with disbelief and despair, he wearily shook his head. His life, his career, was over. The government would not protect him once all of the facts were revealed. He would become the scapegoat, and anyone who was a part of it would go down with him. Maybe if he cooperated fully, the courts would be lenient.