The Clout of Gen (6 page)

Once again, John mentioned the reason for his sudden visit. “Hitari is an old friend,” he lied, “and I’d like to meet with him to do some catching up, but I’m afraid I’ve lost track in all these years of where I might find him.” John felt that Mitsua was following every movement, observing and studying him well. It was in that odd moment of uncomfortable scrutiny that John remembered he wasn’t just talking to anyone; he was, in fact, talking to The Negotiator, a man who thrived on details.

Mitsua didn’t talk too much, and when he did finally reply, it was only with a few words. “Mr. John, Mr. Hitari prefers to be left alone at this time. He is working on an extremely important project and doesn’t wish to be disturbed. I do promise, however, that I will tell him of your visit whenever I see him again, though I have no idea when that might be.”

Unsatisfied with Mitsua’s vague answer, John continued to talk, trying to persuade him that it was a matter of urgency, a business matter dating back a few years, something that had to be discussed.

It was easy to see that Mitsua knew from John’s first words that John wasn’t telling the truth. Mitsua sensed that everything John said was a lie, and he was 100 percent confident that the strange and nosy American had never met Hitari or had any business matter with him in the past. While he didn’t know exactly why John was there, he knew it was certainly not for catching up with a man he’d never met. Being the clever fox that he was, there was no way Mitsua would allow the conversation to go on any longer. He assumed John was likely an investigator or a journalist trying to get a story, and he was frustrated that John had wasted so much of his valuable time already. Again—and more sternly this time—Mitsua apologized and said he had to get ready for his next meeting, effectively dismissing John from his office merely by the tone of his voice.

John left the office feeling bitter, but he did stop by to apologize to the receptionist for his rude and pushy behavior. She was, after all, only doing her job.

The receptionist smiled pleasantly and accepted John’s humble apology. She looked side to side, as if to make sure no one was listening, and said, “Sir, you might be interested to know that Yuuka, Mr. Hitari’s daughter, is scheduled to give a speech tonight on breast cancer therapy at the Kyoto Convention Center. Maybe she can be of help.”

John smiled and offered her a silent nod of gratitude for the helpful tidbit of information.

The convention center was packed with journalists, doctors, donors, and several other interested visitors. John felt confident there. In fact, even in that foreign land, he felt at home, as he had covered many events over the span of his newspaper reporting career. He knew his background with the press would enable him to easily speak with Yuuka. 

After several speakers and doctors talked about breast cancer in general and the importance of early and continuous checkups, as well as new methods used for early detection and treatment, Yuuka was finally introduced as the keynote speaker. Her presence was felt right away. She was a lovely-looking lady in her thirties. She had long, silky hair, wide black eyes, and a heartfelt smile—beauty that everyone both adored and envied. Speaking with confidence, Yuuka reminded all that the fight against breast cancer was far from over and that awareness was still needed. She assured the crowd that her organization was working in every way possible to educate all families in Japan, as well as those in other parts of the world to the importance of the early detection. She also explained several treatments and drugs that her company was working on, and she mentioned the contribution she intended to make toward the cause.

As he listened to her, John realized that everything he’d read about her was true; Yuuka was a real humanitarian. She had traveled to many places in the Far East, as well as Africa, to help people in need. More than half of the profits from her pharmaceutical companies was donated to the people in those impoverished regions.
If all the rich and powerful in the world would follow Yuuka’s passion and giving trends, there would be no more economic crisis to worry anyone,
John thought. He truly admired her, and he was sure that if her father was involved in any shady business, she certainly wasn’t part of it. He couldn’t wait to talk to her in person.

Dinner was served in a separate hall, where John could mingle and socialize with other colleagues and discuss the event. He noticed Mitsua Oel at one of the tables and greeted him from distance. John felt the curiosity pouring from Mitsua Oel; the man clearly felt suspicious and clueless about John’s presence at the event.

Yuuka, on the other hand, was busy checking in with each of her guests to make sure they were having a good time and learning a lot. She was even willing to grant interviews to the media, as she was very keen at using all avenues to get her important message out. When she was finally alone, John seized the opportunity. He went up to Yuuka and introduced himself. “John Teddy, journalist, from the USA,” he said. “I truly respect your work. You are such a mentor for others to follow.”

As he spoke with her, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Mitsua staring menacingly at him. John had only met the man briefly, but he already hated him and thought of him as some kind of wolf in sheep’s clothing.

John pulled Yuuka aside. Because he was in a hurry to get past Mitsua’s suspecting eye, he was in a hurry to get directly to the point. “I am here because I urgently need to meet with your father,” he told her. “I’ve traveled here from halfway around the world, and I can’t really wait any longer. Time is running short before I have to go back.”

Yuuka politely inquired about his reasons for wanting to meet her father, trying to determine if she could help him out.

John replied, “Well, it’s somewhat of a complicated story, but I assure you that Mr. Hitari will be delighted to meet me. Rest assured I only have questions and mean him no harm.”

She was still a bit reluctant to reveal her father’s location and told John that her father was feeling a bit sick. Nevertheless, she offered to be of any assistance she could.

John insisted that only her father could be of help, and in an even a louder, more insistent tone, he told her it was a matter of life or death. “This could save lives,” he said.
Or at least mine
, he thought to himself.

Yuuka felt the urgency in John’s eyes and was finally convinced. She told the American that she was going to visit her dad later that night after the convention was over and assured him she would tell Hitari that a John Teddy needed to speak to him.

“My name won’t mean anything to Mr. Hitari,” John explained, “but please pass this important message along…control from knowledge.” To be sure he got the message, John took a piece of paper out of his suit. On it, he had carefully drawn the symbol that was engraved on the ring from the box. He also wrote his contact number and the address of the place where he was staying.

Takishi was waiting outside; John had asked him to be ready any moment, as they had to follow Yuuka after she left the event, regardless of the outcome of his conversation with her. John didn’t want to leave the matter in anyone else’s hand. There was a mystery to solve, and he wanted to play an active role in discovering how it was all connected.

Tracking them slowly, being careful to stay out of sight, they reached a lovely area in one of the suburbs of Kyoto, a residential community reserved for the rich and famous. Every mansion they passed was more extravagant, surrounded by high walls and heavy iron doors.

“Those rich really know how to live,” John repeated to himself. He couldn’t help but wonder what lay beyond those walls and thick gates.

After passing a few homes, Yuuka’s car parked in front of one. She exited her car and went inside the beautiful house.

Now that he had some idea of where he might find Hitari, John asked Takishi to head back to the hotel. As he passed by the wealthy homes, looking at the high walls, he hoped again that Yuuka would be sure to give her father the information he’d told her
. If she doesn’t,
he reasoned,
I’m going to have to find a way to climb those walls and get in there myself, trespassing or not.
He was ready to risk everything for a chance to meet Yaturo, but deep inside his mind, he really felt Yuuka was an honest person who would do what she promised.
It’s only a matter of time, and I’ll meet Yaturo face to face,
he thought with all the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas Eve.

Chapter 3

Just when John was slowly waking up, he heard a few knocks on his door. A quick look at his watch revealed that it was seven fifteen a.m. When he checked in, he had asked the front office that he not be disturbed before eight a.m., and they had obeyed his wishes, so there was something amiss about the strange early-morning visitor. He quickly put on his robe and opened the door. To his astonishment, there was Yaturo, the man he had traveled from both sides of the world to find.

He seemed older than his latest photos on the Web. His face had more wrinkles, and his hair was much thinner. In fact, he looked older than his actual years. He was wearing a long black coat over his dark gray suit and a faint red tie. His cologne was so strong that it awoke all of John’s senses; it was even more effective than a strong cup of coffee. That, coupled with the intensity of the moment, of meeting the man he’d been searching for, was too much for John to bear. His heart was beating so rapidly that he had to place his hand on it to calm it down.

With a slight smile and in a low voice, Yaturo simply said, “John, I would like to come in, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, Mr. Hitari,” John replied in a trembling voice.

“Please call me Yaturo. I know you would prefer to address me that way,” replied Hitari as he took his coat off and sat down on the small seat next to the mirror.

John sat on the bed gazing at his unexpected guest for a moment. After offering him some tea, John asked Yaturo to give him ten minutes to take a quick shower and put on something decent. Truth be told, John needed a few minutes to regain his composure; it was as if he had been in a boxing match and had taken one punch after another. He couldn’t seem to see clearly, and he was wobbly on his feet.

Feeling more relaxed after a hot shower, John put on his suit and lit on a cigarette. He stood near the window and was about to speak to his visitor, but Yaturo started the conversation by asking several questions about what he had found, where he had found it, and what he needed to know. John played the copy of the DVD he had brought. He took some notice of the happiness on Yaturo’s face at the sight of it, and then he went into the details about what had led him to the cliff in the first place. He explained what he had found and how difficult it was for him to understand what he had seen. He also told Yaturo about his trips to Mexico and Dorking and his meetings with Jim and Lisa. “It was rather difficult for me to find you,” John said, “until I made my way here, to Kyoto.”

Yaturo listened carefully. He seemed impressed with John’s tale, and he felt some remorse about all of John’s troubles over the last week and all the pressure he’d been under recently. From John’s expressions and emotions, Yaturo was able to surmise that John would give anything to find the answers he had worked so hard to seek. And, after all those years, Yaturo felt there might be hope.

After John had finished telling his story, he quickly went on the attack, asking point-blank questions the way any good reporter would. He was looking for answers, and he knew it was up to him—not Yaturo—to do the interrogating. He asked Yaturo how he knew about the 9/11 attacks and the deadly tsunami. “Who are you really?” he asked. “Did you have anything to do with those tragedies…or others? And even if you didn’t, why didn’t you do anything to stop them or warn anyone if you knew about them ahead of time? And furthermore, what was your reason for recording that video and putting it in a box on an ocean cliff? What if it had never been found? What then?”

Suddenly Yaturo stood and took the DVD out of John’s laptop. “Is this a copy or the original?” he asked John. When John answered, he promptly broke the disk in half, opened the door to leave, and stopped to speak to John over his shoulder. “You have twenty minutes to pack your bags. I will meet you in my car outside the hotel. If you want to discuss this properly, we need to do it elsewhere. I have much to tell you about what, exactly, is going on in our world, John.”

John did exactly what Mr. Hitari said. His hotel payment had been settled, so he stuffed everything in his bags and rode off with Yaturo in his black Lexus limo.

Yaturo instructed the driver where to go and warned, “And do not interrupt us for any reason,” and then he rolled up the partition window so the driver would have to give them privacy. He then turned to John. “What I am about to tell you might change your entire perspective in life, John. This matter is very serious indeed, and I am not sure you will be able to handle what you are about to hear. If you want to leave now and forget all of this—forget that you ever found that box or saw that video or met me—I will take care of anything you need to get you back home. Tell me, John…do you want to stay or go?”

John was determined to find out what Yaturo had to say, more than ready to learn the secret behind all of it. “I’m here, and I’m not turning back now,” he said to Yaturo with a firm nod.

The two didn’t utter a word to each other for the reminder of the way, until they reached a lovely place with stunning views. It seemed to be one of Kyoto’s golf resorts. John had never played golf, but he did enjoy watching the sport.

“I enjoy breakfast here from time to time,” Yaturo said, taking in the serene view of the beautiful course. Yaturo chose an isolated table, and once they were seated, he began talking more to John. “Many things in life are different than they seem, John. For instance, you might see those who seem to be doing great things, but in reality, they aren’t the ones responsible for it. You can think of it like a grand puppet show. You might admire the puppet and have certain feelings for it, and you might even bond with it in some way, but in reality, it is just a puppet. Without its strings or its master, it cannot even move. There must always be a puppet master, John—someone pulling the strings.” He added, “Look, John…to be more practical and direct in life, a great number of the influential people on Earth have had the knowledge of the future passed on to them. Those stories you and the rest of the world hear about people making billions from nothing aren’t as they might seem. Those people had prior information. They already knew what to do, what financial decisions to make, where they should invest. They knew what property to buy and when to sell it, what companies would make it and which ones wouldn’t. They even knew all the certain outcomes of the most important events beforehand. They weren’t geniuses, John, and nor were they simply relying on luck. They were informed, and as a result, they knew things others didn’t.” He then went into details about how Big Oil, electronic companies, Big Pharm, and the FMCG industries had been built on advance knowledge they had about what products to work on, when they should work on them, and where they should sell them. Yaturo provided numbers, names, and specific examples. He then described how many political decisions and wars were based on information about the future.

John listened, and he was used to collecting information from sources, but he felt like he was simply hearing conspiracy theories about the CIA or the Mafia. Yaturo’s reports, however, seemed to be backed by facts and true outcomes, and it was almost too heavy for John to handle, just as Yaturo had warned it might be.

Yaturo sensed that John was a bit overwhelmed. “Perhaps you must see in order to believe,” he said to John.

“Perhaps that would help,” John agreed.

“Well, my friend, there is no better place than my home. You will gain a better understanding there, I am sure.”

”You mean the mansion on the hill? The place where you met your daughter yesterday?” John asked smartly.

“ Yes,” replied Yaturo. “The same one you and your driver Takishi were parked fifty meters from,” he added, and they both shared a laugh.

Yaturo’s mansion was a palace. The garden stretched all the way from the outdoor entrance to the main house, which sat on a full two acres of land. The main driveway was lined with trees, arranged in a most welcoming way. The house, complete with Roman columns, was a five-story palace. Its most attractive architectural feature were the two big balconies on each side and the small terrace garden separating them on the fourth floor. Just outside the entrance was an impressive fountain; the sculpted horses and floating cherubs gave off the impression that it might be an artifact of historical significance from some Roman museum. On the inside, the house was even more impressive. From the marble floors covered by the Persian carpets to the beautiful Italian sculptures, Austrian crystal chandeliers, and rare antiquities, it was breathtaking. The walls were adorned with pricey paintings, from Picasso to Monet. Clearly, Mr. Yaturo Hitari had taste—and the money to finance it.

Yaturo took John to his library, which was like none John had ever seen before. It was Victorian in style, and there seemed to be well over 1,000 books in his private collection. Yaturo explained that some of them were worth a lot. Rare prints and first editions, worth a considerable fortune.

After the two had tea, one of his household staff returned with a tray bearing some tablets and an injection.

Yaturo then showed John his collection of trophies from college. He was sure John had read about him and his athletic awards, but he couldn’t resist the chance to show them off.

After Yaturo felt he had calmed John a bit, he returned to his talk about the knowledge of the future and how much credit had been given to the people who knew it. Once he felt John was buying it a bit more, he was eager to show John his true trophy collection. He removed one of the books from one of the shelves and put his hand inside to press a button. The shelf moved slowly, revealing a secret door—a thick metal one with a digital screen and a keypad like the one used for hotel safes. He took something out of his pocket that almost identically resembled the ring John had found in the green box. Before using it, Yaturo said, “John, this ring is made of special components. The symbol and the metal must match, or it will not work to open this passage. There are three of these rings in existence. You have one, and I have possession of the other two,” Yaturo added. He placed the ring into the proper slot, and the screen switched on. After Yaturo entered a series of numbers, the door slid open. He turned to John and said, “Come inside and see for yourself. You are the first ever to enter this place besides me, and you will find your proof here.”

The door opened to a small corridor. It was a bit chilly, something like a wine cellar. After they walked a few meters, they reached a sparsely furnished room. One wall was covered with photographs and documents, and there were a small table and chair against the opposite wall.

“What is this room?” John asked.

“I constructed this room forty years ago. It’s equipped with an amazing security system, and only I have the numbers for access. I change that code every week, according to a formula I devised. I cannot risk the contents being destroyed. If you look closely at the top, there are fitted pipes. Those pipes release a substance that can dissolve anything made of paper. That is why I never leave this place unattended for more than five days at a time, John. I must always return to reenter the formula, without fail,” Yaturo explained. “Feel free to peruse the photos if you’d like.”

John began to observe them. Each one held the image of a younger Yaturo standing next to a variety of people. Some of them seemed familiar. Each photo showed Yaturo with a different individual. He was never alone and never with more than one person at a time. In some, he was with a child, with teenagers in others, and even with infants in some. John was sure he recognized some of the faces, but he couldn’t recall from where.
What does all this mean
? John wondered.
Dissolving paper? Secret rooms? Encoded rings? Is Yaturo crazy? What have I gotten myself into? Who is this madman anyway, and what do these strange photos have to do with anything we’ve been discussing?

Yaturo was enjoying it, as he knew it would all confuse John more and really ignite a fire of curiosity inside of him. It was exactly what Yaturo wanted. It was crucial that John felt the importance, the heavy weight, of all the knowledge he was about to pass on to him. When he thought John had built up enough curiosity with the mystery of it all, he approached him. “Do the people in the pictures look familiar to you, John? If they do, it is because they should.”

“Huh? But…why?” John stuttered, confused.

“The photos you see here are of people who became famous or important over the years, so you likely recognize some of them.” He started to name each person in the photos.

John couldn’t believe it. Yaturo had taken photos with actors before their time. He had a photo he’d posed in with one of the U.S. presidents, back when he was nineteen. There were photos of prominent businessmen before they were even out of diapers. A tennis legend was a baby in one, and an Oscar-winning icon was eleven years old in another. One of NBAs greatest was just in one photo, and it seemed Yaturo had even held a social network genius before the Internet was even invented. The photos went on and on and on.