Debt of Honor - Tom Clancy [110]
" 'Plum blossoms bloom,
and pleasure-women buy new scarves
in a brothel room.' "
The words might have been poetic in Japanese—it was a famous haiku—but it didn't make a hell of a lot of sense in English, Clark thought. At least not to him, but the effect on the man in front of him was noteworthy. "Oleg Yurievich sends his greetings."
"It has been a long time," the man stammered after perhaps five seconds of well-concealed panic.
"Things have been difficult at home," Clark explained, a slight accent in his voice.
Isamu Kimura was a senior official in the Ministry for International Trade and Industry, MITI, the centerpiece of an enterprise once called "Japan, Inc." As such he often met with foreigners, especially foreign reporters, and so he had accepted the invitation of Ivan Sergeyevich Klerk, newly arrived in Japan from Moscow, complete with a photographer who was elsewhere shooting pictures.
"It would seem to be a difficult time for your country as well," Klerk added, wondering what sort of reaction it would get. He had to be a little tough with the guy. It was possible that he'd resist the idea of being reactivated after more than two years of no contacts. If so, KGB policy was to make it clear that once they had their hooks into you, those hooks never went away. It was also CIA policy, of course.
"It's a nightmare," Kimura said after a few seconds' reflection and a deep draft of the sake on the table.
"If you think the Americans are difficult, you should be a Russian. The country in which I grew up, which nurtured and trained me—is no more. Do you realize that I must actually support myself with my Interfax work? I can't even perform my duties on a full-time basis." Clark shook his head ruefully and emptied his own cup.
"Your English is excellent."
The "Russian" nodded politely, taking the remark as surrender on the part of the man across the table. "Thank you. I worked for years in New York, covering the U.N. for Pravda. Among other things," he added.
"Really?" Kimura asked."What do you know of American business and politics?"
"I specialized in commercial work. The new world's circumstances allow me to pursue it with even more vigor, and your services are highly valued by my country. We will be able to reward you even more in the future, my friend."
Kimura shook his head. "I have no time for that now. My office is in a very confused state, for obvious reasons."
"I understand. This meeting is in the manner of a get-acquainted session. We have no immediate demands."
"And how is Oleg?" the MITI official asked.
"He has a good life now, a very comfortable position because of the fine work you did for him." Which wasn't a lie at all. Lyalin—was alive, and that beat the hell out of a bullet to the head in the basement of KGB Headquarters. This man was the agent who'd given Lyalin the information which had placed them in Mexico. It seemed a shame to Clark that he couldn't thank the man personally for his part in averting a nuclear war. "So tell me, in my reporter identity: how bad is the situation with America? I have a story to file, you see." The answer would surprise him almost as much as the vehemence of its tone.
Isamu Kimura looked down. "It could bring ruin to us."
"Is it really that bad?" "Klerk" asked in surprise, taking out his pad to make notes like a good reporter.
"It will mean a trade war." It was all the man could do to speak that one sentence.
"Well, such a war will do harm to both countries, yes?" Clark had heard that one often enough that he actually believed it.
"We've been saying that for years, but it's a lie. It's really very simple," Kimura went on, assuming that this Russian needed an education in the capitalist facts of life, not knowing that he was an American who did. "We need their market to sell our manufactured goods. Do you know what a trade war means? It means that they stop buying our manufactured goods, and that they keep their money. That money will go into their own industries, which we have trained, after a fashion, to be more efficient. Those industries