Yamagata frowned.
"I didn't bring her here to give her away," Diamond tried to explain. "She doesn't belong to me, anyway. I'm taking her back to the school tonight, and that's how it is." He turned to the interpreter. "For God's sake tell him what I'm trying to say."
There was a consultation in Japanese. The woman then told Diamond with another bow, "Pardon me for mentioning this, but I think you misunderstood Mr. Yamagata. He was beginning to tell you that he had a young daughter about Naomi's age. He loved her deeply, but she died of meningitis last year."
Yamagata's eyes moistened noticeably while this was explained.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Diamond said in sincerity. "A child's death is the worst kind of grief to bear. But please get him to understand that Naomi belongs to someone else."
"He understands that."
Yamagata spoke again in Japanese, flattening his palm to his chest to reinforce his message.
"He says he wants to help this little girl."
"Naomi? He wants to help Naomi?"
Yamagata was nodding.
"That's kind," said Diamond. "I appreciate the offer, but what could you do? Do you understand me? What could you do to help?"
She put this into Japanese and got a quick answer. "He says you tell him."
This exercised Diamond for some time. He didn't like to appear ungrateful. Finally, he answered, "I suppose you could do what I've been trying to do-drum up some publicity."
When this was conveyed, Yamagata curled his lip in a clear signal of distaste. He spoke again. The interpreter told Diamond, "Mr. Yamagata has heard your story and he trusts you. You have been a police detective, so you are well qualified to find out the truth about the child. Mr. Yamagata is a famous wrestler, not a detective. He is a rich man. He will pay all expenses. When you travel, fly to other places, stay in hotels, he will pay."
A sponsor.
"I wasn't planning on flying anywhere."
"Mr. Yamagata thinks it will be necessary."
Diamond shook his head. "I doubt it."
Another consultation, then she said, "Mr. Yamagata wishes to examine the drawing book again."
"Again?" It was back on Naomi's lap. She allowed Diamond to take it from her and hand it across.
The wrestler turned the pages until he came to the drawing of the lattice window that Diamond himself had started. He traced a finger around the shapes Naomi had drawn and said, "Airplane." To reinforce the message he rested the drawing pad on his thighs and spread his arms wide.
"What?" By no stretch of imagination could the drawing represent an aircraft of any description.
Yamagata called his interpreter closer and spoke earnestly to her. She turned to Diamond. "He says you should look closely at this drawing."
On cue, Yamagata turned the drawing book in his hands and held it for Diamond to inspect.
"He believes this may be the child's view of inside an airplane."
"Well, I wouldn't describe myself as a jet-setter, but I've flown a few times and not one of the planes had lattice windows."
"Please study the drawings with Mr. Yamagata."
Yamagata held it higher. As Yamagata spoke and traced the shapes with his fingers, the woman interpreted. "This grid shape that you have assumed to represent a window may be something else."
"I drew it myself."
"You drew it from the patterns the child was making. Mr. Yamagata believes it may represent the document storage pocket that is fixed to the back of each seat."
Diamond knew what was meant. "That string thing that everything is stuffed into-the safety instructions and the airline magazine and so on? That's a thought. She would be on a level with it if she sat in a plane. And mis other shape could be the flap that you rest your tray on. I believe he's right." He snapped his fingers. "That's brilliant. Bloody brilliant. She's letting us know that she was in an aircraft."
"Or an Intercity train."
An uneasy pause ensued.
"Did he say that?"
"I did," said the woman. "I live in England. Many train seats have these flaps. The airplanes I have traveled in generally have fabric pockets."
She was right.
"Hang on a minute," Diamond said. "May I have the pad back?" He gestured with his fingers.
Yamagata handed it to him.
He turned to a fresh page, took a pen from his pocket and made two rapid drawings, very basic in shape, of an aircraft and a train. "Now, let's see." He held them up for Naomi's inspection and covered the train with his hand. "This one?"
She made no reaction.
"Or this?" He revealed the train.
After a worrying delay, the child put out her hand and touched the drawing of the train.
"This one? This one, Naomi?"
She tapped it again.
"So you're right. He was only partly right. He worked out what the drawing represented," Diamond told the woman, "but she was telling us she traveled by train."
"Japan Airlines," said Yamagata, nodding.
"British Rail," Diamond said, turning to speak to the woman. "Fancy you working it out."
She told him, "The credit for interpreting the drawings belongs to Mr. Yamagata."
"You got it between you, then. Bloody brilliant!"
"Asian people write their language in ideograms. We have a sharp eye for symbols."
Yamagata spoke again in Japanese and his interpreter said firmly, "Mr. Yamagata must prepare for the basho. We should not delay him. He said he will pay whatever you need to find Naomi's parents."
Diamond's eyes widened in surprise. "He'll pay?"
"That is so."
"Let me get this right. He's offering to hire me?"
"Yes."
"Does he really mean whatever I need?'
More consultation ensued. Then: "Mr. Yamagata possesses the Gold Card of American Express."
"I'm impressed, but-"
"He will give you his Gold Card number. If you need to make expenditure, you quote the number. I will write this down for you."
"He's giving me carte blanche to spend his money?"
"American Express," said Yamagata himself, but with some difficulty over the letter R.
"Mr. Yamagata has satisfied himself that you are honorable."
Encouraging as it was to have found unlimited sponsorship and been judged honorable, Diamond still had mixed feelings about the encounter. His expectation that these people had recognized Naomi had been dashed. He was pleased to have her drawing explained, but disappointed that it indicated nothing more than a journey on BR's Intercity.
After another bout of bowing and handshaking, he withdrew with Naomi to the blessedly unscented air outside.
The interpreter followed them out and handed him a card with Yamagata's Tokyo address. Below it she had written his credit card number. She said solemnly, "And my phone number is on the back."
The impulse to smile, or wink, or say something suggestive was hard to resist. But there are people you don't risk upsetting, and this Asian dowager was one. Actually the mention of the phone jerked Peter Diamond back to a matter of more urgency. He still hadn't called the school. He thanked her, pocketed the card and went to look for a callbox.
To his immense relief, Julia Musgrave answered. She agreed that it had been right to follow up the summons from the sumo wrestler. She'd watched "What About the Kids?" Everyone in the school had watched it and there had been high excitement among the children when Clive had recognized Naomi. Julia was sorry that nothing of real substance had resulted from the program, apart from Mr. Yamagata's offer, because-she reminded Diamond, as if it wasn't paramount in his mind-Naomi's time in England was almost up. In less than forty-eight hours, she would be on that flight to Boston.
Miss Musgrave had gone home, Diamond learned when the school's front door was opened.
It was a good thing he'd phoned first. The worst Mrs. Straw could find to complain of was that the child looked worn to a frazzle, poor mite. "Look at her. She can hardly stand up, she's so done for."