“A legendary figure in the history of genetic surgery,” he said. “The most brilliant member of his generation. A worker of miracles.”
“Yes. Indeed so. And do you have any idea where he is now?”
“He’s been dead a long time. His career ended in a terrible scandal. The story I heard was that he had committed suicide.”
“Oh, no, my dear Dr. Rhodes. That is not true.”
“Not a suicide?”
“Not dead. Dr. Wu was a fugitive for many years, yes, after the lamentable scandal to which you refer. But he has been found, and is in fact currently in our employ.”
Nakamura’s bland statement amazed Rhodes so much that his hand shook violently and some of his cognac spilled. Nakamura replaced it in a smooth, almost instantaneous motion.
“That’s hard for me to believe,” Rhodes said. “I don’t mean to doubt your word, of course. But it’s very much like an astronomer hearing that Galileo has turned up alive and is designing a new telescope. Like telling a biologist that a new paper by Gregor Mendel is about to be published. Or a mathematician hearing that Edgar Madison is—”
Nakamura smiled crisply. “Yes, I quite understand,” he said. His tone left no doubt that he was cutting in to prevent Rhodes from running through the entire scientific pantheon in his boozy verbosity. “But the celebrated Dr. Wu chose to disappear, not to die, after the exposure of his illicit experiments in the Free State of Kazakhstan, which is, I think, the scandal to which you were referring. He underwent significant alterations of his appearance and took refuge on one of the L-5 worlds. It happens, Dr. Rhodes, that his Kazakhstan experiments included research into alternative modes of vision. He is at this very moment engaged in retrofitting the crew of our experimental starship so that they will be able to cope with the visual problems posed by faster-than-light travel.”
Rhodes shakily conveyed his glass to his lips.
The sinister old bastard still alive! Performing his magic at this very moment in some K-M laboratory! Who could have imagined it?
“And if I were to join the Kyocera staff,” Rhodes said, “I would be put to work under Dr. Wu in this starship project, is that it?”
“Not at all. From what we know of Dr. Wu’s Kazakhstan research, he ought to be able to deal with the problem of visual perception under faster-than-light conditions in very short order, with no need for the assistance of even so distinguished a scientist as yourself, Dr. Rhodes. Aside from which, it would be foolish of us to divert you from your own present research path.”
“You mean you would want me to go right on with what I’ve been doing at Santachiara, but under Kyocera-Merck auspices?”
“Exactly. Even though we have high hopes for our star-ship program, we recognize that colonization of other solar systems is only one possible solution to our problem. It would be foolhardy of us to ignore the avenue of adapto research. And we at Kyocera-Merck are greatly concerned by your company’s apparent superiority in that field.”
So it had occurred to them, then, that Samurai was positioning itself for nothing less than world domination.
“I see,” Rhodes said.
“Therefore we are prepared to duplicate your present research facility, or to go as far beyond its capabilities as you desire. We’ll provide you with whatever equipment you would need, at whatever budgetary level you deem appropriate.”
Dry-throated now, Rhodes said hoarsely, “You make this sound very appealing.”
“We intend to. We would hope, naturally, that you would bring most or all of your current research group over to us with you.”
“That might expose me to some problems of legal liability, wouldn’t it?”
“It might expose us to some legal liability,” Nakamura said. “The corporation, not you as an individual, doctor. And we are prepared to shoulder that risk.” He extended the cognac bottle. “Another?”
Rhodes quickly put his hand over his glass.
“Thank you, no.”
“I believe I will,” said Nakamura. He filled his glass and lifted it in a toast. He seemed gracious, relaxed, charming, now: a true pal. “It would be premature, I would think, to discuss such details as salary, now. But I’m sure you understand that we are prepared to be extremely generous, both in terms of direct compensation and in terms of advanced grade levels for you and your most important colleagues.”
Rhodes’ mind was whirling.
“Now, as to the connection of Dr. Wu Fang-shui to what we have been discussing,” Nakamura said.
Yes. Wu was involved in this somewhere, Rhodes remembered.
“When he is finished with the starship project—a matter of just a few months, we estimate—it would be quite possible for us to transfer him to your group. As a research consultant, let us say. A senior adviser, neither superior to you nor inferior, but simply affiliated with your enterprise as a reservoir of available technical skill of a highly advanced nature. For example, we have it on good report that a member of your group has made an extremely bold, even radical, proposal for a new line of research that could be unusually fruitful, but which at this point is hedged around by potentially insuperable technical stumbling blocks. It might be the case that a scientist of Dr. Wu’s stature, approaching these obstacles with a fresh vision, so to speak, might be able to offer suggestions which—”
Rhodes was stunned.
They knew about Van Vliet already? Apparently so. And were dangling no less a figure than Wu Fang-shui to help him bring Van Vliet’s proposals to completion?
Incredible. Incredible.
“I will have that drink after all, I think, Mr. Nakamura.”
“Certainly.” Nakamura poured him a double, perhaps a triple.
From some previously untapped depth of his soul Rhodes managed to say, “You realize that I’m not able to give you any definite answer to any of this today.”
“Of course. This is a serious step, virtually the restructuring of your whole life. I am aware of the strong commitment you feel to Samurai Industries, or—to put it more precisely—to Santachiara Technologies. You are not a man who makes great decisions lightly or swiftly. We know that—we have watched you very closely, Dr. Rhodes, surely you are not surprised to hear that—and we value that trait in you. Take your time. Think things over. Discuss what I have said with your most trusted friends.”
“Yes.”
“I hardly need stress the importance of discretion in these discussions, of course.”
“Hardly.”
Nakamura rose.
“We will be in touch, Dr. Rhodes.”
“Yes. Certainly.”
“It has been a rewarding first meeting for me, and, I trust, for you as well.”
“Yes. Very much so.”
As Rhodes was leaving, Nakamura actually offered him a formal bow of the most punctilious sort. Rhodes did his awkward bearish best to imitate it.
A Level Three, bowing to me, he thought. Incredible.
Mr. Kurashiki was waiting to lead him back to his car. Rhodes sat in it for a long moment, feeling dazed, wondering where to tell the car to take him. It was still fairly early in the afternoon. Return to the lab? No, not now. Not in the shape he was in. He was as close to drunk as made no difference, he was soaked in sour high-tension sweat, he was altogether exhausted. He felt close to tears. An interview with an actual Level Three; an offer to design a new lab for himself, expenses be damned; and, of all flabbergasting things, Wu Fang-shui himself thrown in as office help. Rhodes was dazed.
He needed to talk to someone about this. But who? Isabelle? Jesus, no! Ned Svoboda? Not really.
Paul Carpenter, that was who. The only person in the universe he completely trusted. But Carpenter was somewhere out at sea jockeying icebergs around. For the moment, Rhodes knew, he was on his own, struggling to contain a secret that was so big it felt like a lump of molten brass in his throat.