Susan's confidence was beginning to ebb. She was well schooled in following precise rules and guidelines and functioning within certain parameters of authority, but operating outside her jurisdiction made her uncomfortable.
"Steve," she began when her restless fear began to surface, "our first four agents are due to arrive tomorrow. Maybe we should wait until we have everyone in place."
He gave her a comforting look. "Take it easy. We're simply going to interview the guy today. We'll wait until we have backup before we go for the jugular."
Unconvinced, Susan maintained her superficial barrier of calm. "Okay. I'm going to follow your lead," she said under her breath as they approached the receptionist.
"Just relax and be yourself," he replied out of the corner of his mouth.
Steve withdrew a business card from the inside pocket of his suit and handed it to the gracious woman.
"We're from The Wall Street Journal and we have an appointment with Mr. Matsukawa," he announced while the receptionist looked at the counterfeit card and smiled.
She spoke softly into her small lip-microphone and then escorted them to the entrance to the executive suites.
The wooden sliding doors appeared to open by themselves and a smiling Tadashi Matsukawa bowed slightly and extended his hand to Steve. "Please come in."
"Eric Thomas," Wickham replied as Matsukawa quickly turned his attention to Susan.
He had a gleam in his eye when he warmly clasped her hand. "Yoshiko Ohira." Susan smiled confidently. "We appreciate the opportunity to interview you."
"It is my pleasure," Matsukawa beamed and ushered them into his office, then motioned toward the two plush chairs canted toward each other in front of his large glass desk. "Please have a seat."
Matsukawa couldn't take his eyes off Susan. She looked truly beautiful. He slowly walked around the unique desk and sat down in his mink-fur chair.
Steve glanced out at the Kokyo Gaien square, then studied the Imperial Palace and the massive walls that surround it and the palace gardens.
Susan was surprised by the open concept of the luxurious executive offices. Once inside the primary entrance, glass partitions divided the interior structure of the offices. The openness was in contrast to the traditional design of most of the American offices she had seen.
"On behalf of the Journal," Steve said cheerfully, "we thank you for fitting us into your busy schedule."
Keeping his eyes on Susan, Matsukawa gave Wickham a disinterested look. "I'm always happy to accommodate my American friends."
Steve forced himself to display a convincing smile. I'll bet you are, you slimeball.
"We have a few routine biographical questions that we need to ask before—" Steve froze in place when he saw the look on Susan's face.
Wickham instinctively turned and saw someone walk into the adjacent office. His eyes grew large when he suddenly recognized the short, bespectacled Japanese man who had answered the door at the mansion in Hawaii.
"Yoshiko," Steve exclaimed as he turned back to her, "are you having another attack?"
Susan spontaneously lowered her head and clutched at her stomach. "Yes…" She groaned convincingly.
Matsukawa appeared to be dumbfounded while he stared at Susan. "Are you going to be okay?"
After she had seen the man who could identify them, Susan's pale expression was real. "I'm afraid not." She winced and kept her head down.
Steve's mind raced as he jumped from his chair and turned his back to Mishima Takahashi in an attempt to shield Susan from his view.
"I'm sorry…" Steve muttered hurriedly and helped Susan to her feet. "Yoshiko is suffering from an acute intestinal disorder and we thought she was well enough to do the interview."
"I must apologize for the inconvenience," Susan murmured weakly and turned her head away from Takahashi. "It strikes so suddenly."
"Certainly," Matsukawa said. He pushed himself away from his desk and rose to walk them to the door. "We'll reschedule the interview when you're feeling better."
"That would be great," Steve replied briskly and saw Takahashi stop and stare at them for a few seconds. A moment later the senior executive rushed for his door. The deception was over.
Chapter 39
Pragmatically, the President decided to take a stronger stance since the Prime Minister appeared to be intent on taking command of the meeting. Flanked by Bud Tidwell and Bryce Mellongard, he decided to take on the caustic Japanese leader in a one-on-one battle.
"Prime Minister Koyama," the President's voice resonated through the conference room, "we aren't threatening anyone with a tanker blockade, and we understand about the accident that caused the chain reaction aboard the Kitty Hawk. That's why we're sending another carrier into the strait to stabilize the region as quickly as possible."
Koyama's sullen face gave away his feelings. The President was lying and everyone at the table knew it.
"The growing dissension," the President continued forcefully, "between our countries is — in my opinion — not inextricable. If we are willing to work together, which I'm confident that we can, then we'll be able to resolve some of the complex issues that face our nations."
Koyama gave the President a contemptuous sneer while Foreign Minister Nagumo Katsumoto nodded his agreement to the proposal to ease tensions between the two countries. Ambassador Hagura remained quiet, but his rubbery face indicated that he liked the idea of compromise.
"The fundamental issues," Genshiro Koyama said just as forcefully, "are fueled by American arrogance and broken agreements. We are not underlings to anyone — including the United States."
You have the unmitigated gall to mention broken agreements, the President almost said before he regained his composure.
Feeling more determined than ever, the President glanced at Hagura and Katsumoto. Both statesmen were quiet and reserved. Neither showed any visible signs of hostility.
"Gentlemen" — the President flashed his most disarming smile—"I propose that we take a short break — say, fifteen to twenty minutes — then we'll reconvene."
Before anyone could react, he rose and started around the end of the table while the other men shoved back their chairs and got to their feet.
"Prime Minister Koyama," the President said warmly, "may I have a word with you in private?"
Koyama hesitated until Katsumoto and Hagura walked away with the two Americans, then turned to the President. "Whatever you wish."
"I think it would be helpful," the President went on in a conciliatory gesture, "if we could spend a few minutes together."
Koyama gave him a dismissive shrug.
"Why don't we go to the lounge at the rooftop restaurant," the President suggested. "Security still has it sealed from the public."
"The lounge will be fine," Koyama agreed and noticed Secretary Mellongard hurrying back to the President. "I'll meet you there."
"I'll only be a minute," the President assured the brusque politician and turned to his Defense Secretary.
"Sir," Mellongard began in a guarded tone, "one of our cruisers forced an Iranian submarine — the Taregh — to the surface near where Kitty Hawk went down."
The President showed no emotion. "Did our ASW folks know it was Iranian?"
"No, but they knew from the sound signature that it was a Kilo-class boat and surmised that it was Iranian."
"And?" he prompted.
"Our people," Mellongard went on without enthusiasm, "tracked the suspicious target with a helicopter for almost an hour before Cowpens fired an Asroc missile at the contact. The submarine, which is slightly damaged, surfaced about two to three minutes later."
"Is there any indication" — the President began to walk out of the room—"that it may have torpedoed Kitty Hawk?"