Debt of Honor - Tom Clancy [122]
Ding handled the eye contact with Ishii. It was amusing in a way. Confusion at first, then you could just about hear the eyeballs click when the code phrase sliced through his mind like the killing stroke of a rapier. Sasaki's eyes zeroed in on Clark, then noticed that it was Ding who was maintaining eye contact.
That's right. You're back on the payroll, buddy.
"Well, you see, it's the contrast," the PR official explained. "You have the pleasant image of attractive women doing something—oh, feminine, is that the word? Then the end, you see that they are prostitutes, trapped in a—"
"Prison," Ishii said, suddenly sober. "They are trapped into doing something. And suddenly the setting and the picture are not as pleasant as they seem at all."
"Ah, yes," Clark said with a smile. "That is entirely sensible. Thank you." A friendly nod to acknowledge the important lesson.
Goddamn, but Mr. C was smooth, Chavez thought. This spy stuff had its moments. Ding almost felt sorry for Ishii, but if the dumb son of a bitch had betrayed his country before, well, no sense in shedding any tears for him now. The axiom in CIA was simple, if somewhat cruel: once a traitor, always a traitor. The corresponding aphorism in the FBI was even crueler, which was odd. The FBI boys were usually so upright and clean-cut. Once a cocksucker, always a cocksucker.
"Is it possible?" Murakami asked.
"Possible? It's child's play."
"But the effects…" Yamata's idea had obvious panache, but…
"The effects are simple. The damage to their economy will prevent them from building up the industries they need to replace our products. Their consumers will recover from the initial shock and, needing products which their own corporations cannot manufacture, they will again buy them from us." If Binichi thought he was going to get the whole story, that was his problem.
"I think not. You underestimate the Americans' anger at this unfortunate incident. You must also factor in the political dimension—"
"Koga is finished. That is decided," Yamata interrupted coldly.
"Goto?" Murakami asked. It wasn't much of a question. He followed his country's political scene as much as any man.
"Of course."
An angry gesture. "Goto is a fool. Everywhere he walks he's following his penis. I wouldn't trust him to run my father's farm."
"You could say that of any of them. Who really manages our country's affairs? What more could we want in a prime minister, Binichi?" Raizo asked with a jolly laugh.
"They have one like that in their government, too," Murakami noted darkly, pouring himself another generous jolt of Chivas and wondering what Yamata was really talking about. "I've never met the man, but he sounds like a swine."
"Who is that?"
"Kealty, their Vice President. You know, this upstanding President of theirs is covering it up, too."
Yamata leaned back in his chair. "I don't understand."
Murakami filled him in. The whiskey didn't impede his memory a jot, his host noted. Well, though a cautious man, and often an overly generous one in his dealings with foreigners, he was one of Yamata's true peers, and though they often disagreed on things, there was genuine respect between them.
"That is interesting. What will your people do about it?"
"They are thinking about it," Binichi replied with an eloquent arch of the eyebrows.
"You trust Americans on something like this? The best of them are ronin, and you know what the worst are…" Then Yamata-san paused and took a few seconds to consider this information more fully. "My friend, if the Americans can take down Koga…"
Murakami lowered his head for a moment. The smell of the thrown beer was stronger than ever. The insolence of that street creature! For that matter, what of the insolence of the President? He could cripple an entire country with his vanity and his clearly feigned anger. Over what? An accident, that was all. Had the company not honorably assumed responsibility? Had it not promised to look after the survivors?
"It is a large and dangerous thing you propose, my friend."
"It is an even more dangerous