“Of the hundreds of contracts you have in the Japanese government, one caught my friend’s eye. Four years ago one of your subsidiaries — a security firm — signed a contract to guard and monitor all of Japan’s nuclear power plants and disposal sites. It’s your company, of course, but the citizenry doesn’t know that. As far as they’re concerned, the government runs the plants. The government handles pricing, regulation, safety — everything the average citizen is concerned about. And they are concerned. More than any nation on earth, Japan knows what nuclear energy can do if a tight rein is not kept on it.”
Takagi was shaking his head. Tanner kept going.
“Here’s how you saw it happening: Manned by a crew of fanatical Arab terrorists, Tsumago sails into Tel Aviv Harbor and vaporizes itself in a fireball. Israel — who you don’t care much about — is decimated, and Syria — who you care even less about — rolls into Lebanon to keep the peace, and Iraq gets blamed for the whole thing. All this is fine with you. As far as you’re concerned, it’s all trivia.
“In the wake of the catastrophe, the world is outraged. Every nation on the planet is shouting for the head of whoever supplied the uranium to make the bomb. The actual construction of it isn’t the issue; that’s all mechanical know-how and rudimentary physics. The tricky part is getting the feedstock.
“Investigations begin. Intelligence agencies beat the bushes. You’re not worried, though. You’ve insulated yourself. Toshogu is gone, Parece Kito is gone, all the people even remotely connected to the project are dead.
“Two months go by. The world still has no clue how it happened. All the investigations have turned up nothing. Of course, they know how big the bomb was and how much material it would have taken to build it, but not much else.
“Until one day,” Tanner continued, “when an employee of your security firm happens to find an anomaly during a routine inspection of a plant’s feedstock inventory. There’s some uranium missing — just enough for the Tel Aviv bomb, in fact.
“The security company blows the whistle. The IAEA is called in. An investigation begins, and the world waits and watches. From there it snowballs, and before long the answer comes out: Through negligence or greed or simple stupidity, the Japanese government is at the root of the worst nuclear disaster in history.
“The Japanese people take to the streets. The ensuing scandal shakes the government to its foundations. Hundreds of heads roll, from the diet to the prime minister’s cabinet. The voters demand change. A new party is formed that promises this will never happen again. The voters jump on the bandwagon, elections are held, and a new era of Japanese politics is ushered in.”
Tanner paused and looked at Takagi, who had grown pale. “Care to guess who’s secretly behind this new party?”
“This is all fantasy. You have no—”
“I told you, Mr. Takagi, I’m not interested in proof. The answer to the question is, the newly elected prime minister and his cabinet have been handpicked by you and the Black Ocean Society. In the space of a year, you’ve dismantled the current government, orchestrated a bloodless coup, and taken over. And now, instead of pulling the strings of your hundreds of companies, you’re pulling the strings of an entire country.”
Tanner sat back, looked at Takagi for a long ten seconds, then said, “Of course, I’m just guessing about all of this. I could be wrong, but somehow I don’t think so.”
“You’re a wonderful storyteller, Mr. Tanner,” said Takagi. “But that’s all it is.”
Tanner shrugged.
“What happens now?” asked Takagi. “What do you plan to do with this yarn?”
“Nothing. While I don’t need proof, without it, none of this will stick.”
“True.”
“So tell me: How good was my story?”
Takagi paused, then tilted his head. “It was excellent.”
“Thank you. You can make that call now.”
Takagi reached for the phone. As his fingers touched the handset, he jerked his hand back. “Ah! Something pricked me!” He stared at the tiny drop of blood on his fingertip.
Takagi’s face went pale. His hand began curling itself into a claw. “What’s happening?” he murmured. “What have you done to me?” He squealed and clutched his forearm. “Ahhh, God…”
“Don’t worry,” said Tanner. “It’s just a mild paralytic agent.”
“What!” Takagi croaked.
“It’ll wear off in an hour or so.”
Tanner’s coat pocket trilled. He pulled out his cell phone, listened for a moment, then said, “Thanks, Sconi. You can head back. I’ll be along shortly.”
His facial muscles frozen and shoulders hunched around his ears, Takagi was sliding deeper into his chair. His eyes flicked up to Tanner. “What are you doing?”
“You and I, Mr. Takagi, are going on a boat trip.”
Takagi forced open his eyes and found himself staring up at the night sky. He felt a breeze blowing over his face. He heard the lapping of water and felt himself rocking. A boat. Tanner had said something about a boat. He lifted his hand and stared at it. He flexed his fingers. He felt a residual tingling sensation in them, but otherwise he felt fine.
He forced himself to a sitting position. He looked down at his feet and saw they were cuffed together.
“Feeling better?” Tanner asked, crouched a few feet away.
“Unlock me right now! Where am I?”
Takagi looked around and realized he was surrounded by water. To his left, perhaps five miles away, he could make out the shoreline of Atsumi Bay. He looked over Tanner’s shoulder and saw the conning tower.
“A submarine,” he murmured.
Tanner nodded. “Ethan Allen-class. Old, but very quiet.”
“What are you doing? You can’t kidnap me!”
“I have no intention of kidnapping you.”
“Then what?”
Tanner paused for a moment then said, “Let’s just say I’m giving you an empirical lesson in the law of cause and effect… and irony. Can’t forget irony.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
In answer, Tanner stood up, walked to the conning tower, retrieved a large canvas rucksack, and returned. He dropped it at Takagi’s feet with a thunk.
“What’s that?” Takagi murmured, wide-eyed.
“A teaching aid.”
Tanner stooped over the rucksack and reached inside. Before Takagi could react, Tanner snapped a padlock onto his leg cuffs. “What are you doing?” Takagi kicked wildly, smacking the padlock and chain against the steel deck. “Get this off me!”
Tanner unzipped the rucksack and lifted it away, revealing a fifty-pound cinder block. Takagi stared at the block, then looked up at Tanner. “You can’t do this! Do you know who I am?”
Tanner stared down at him. “I know exactly who you are. You’re a sociopath and a murderer. And it’s going to end here.”
“Goddamn it, Tanner, you can’t just—”
“I am doing it.”
“Please, God! I’m begging you, please!”
“Good-bye, Mr. Takagi.”
Tanner turned and started walking toward the conning tower.
“Tanner! Damn you! You can’t do this! Tanner!”
He pulled the hatch closed, spun the wheel, and took the rungs to the deck below. Waiting for him was the sub’s captain, who frowned, glanced up the ladder, then at Tanner.
“Something wrong, Captain?” Briggs asked.
“I thought… Where’s our passenger?”
“He couldn’t make it.”
“Oh.” The captain frowned again, then shrugged. “You’re the boss. What now?”
Tanner smiled. “Take her down and head south,” he replied. “I’ve got a date in Tahiti with a beautiful, recently retired Israeli secret agent.”