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tell me。 They're grateful to stay here。〃
〃You needn't worry；〃 Honno said； immediately concerned。 ''I won't be here long。〃
Big Ezoe waved a hand。 〃Stay as long as you need to；〃 he said。 〃I have many such apartments all across Tokyo。〃
〃Well； there's the expense to think of。〃
〃Why should you think of it？〃 Big Ezoe said。 〃I don't。〃 Honno looked at him； and he nodded。 〃Now you're thinking； Why is he doing this？ What does he want from me； and when is he going to exact his price？〃
〃No； I…〃
〃It's perfectly natural to have such thoughts。 First； I am Yakuza。 Second； you hate my guts。 You yourself said as much when we met again。 This is not a bination to inspire a sense of trust； is it？〃
Honno found it impossible to answer。 She had never before encountered anyone who had the temerity to be so direct； to cut through the layers of ritualized fabrication that seemed an integral part of every conversation。
''But the fact is that my interest is a simple one： the evidence of wrongdoing your friend Kakuei Sakata left behind in those cryptic ledgers。 I have many important ties to the business munity。 I don't know what Sakata knew； what he had gotten hold of； but it is important for me to find out； before anyone else does and leaks it to the authorities； such as your husband。''
〃But…〃
〃It is time to get on with things。 Are you ready； Mrs。 Kansei？〃 Big Ezoe produced a memo pad； tore off the top sheet of paper； handed it to her。 〃This is your itinerary for tonight。 Please follow it。 I promise you will be neither disappointed nor bored。 There's a car waiting for you downstairs。 The driver has a copy of the itinerary； and he's familiar with all the venues。〃
' 'But what about Giin and the ledgers？ 〃
〃I'll meet you at the Ginza club at six tomorrow morning； and we'll discuss everything then。〃 Big Ezoe rose。 〃Now I must leave you。 Enjoy yourself tonight； Mrs。 Kansei。〃
There was； indeed； a driver waiting for Honno outside。 He bowed； opened the back door of a pearl…gray 560 SEL Mercedes with tinted windows。 The night air was already heavy with hints of the ing bad weather。 Honno ducked into the cool； dimly lit interior； found someone already in the backseat。
〃Good evening； Mrs。 Kansei；〃 a thin young man said pleasantly。 He wore his thick hair slicked back over his delicate ears； a pair of wide； masculine sunglasses was wrapped around his eyes。 He was dressed in an immaculate dove…gray summer…weight suit； with a starched white shirt and a rep tie。 Honno noticed gold cuff links and a ring that appeared to be a nugget of gold。 〃I am Fukuda；〃 he said。 〃Big Ezoe asked me to be your guide tonight。 Will that be convenient。〃 There was no interrogative at the end of the sentence； and therefore it lost its usual meaning。
The enormous Mercedes was already slipping effortlessly through the choked Tokyo streets。 How it was able to do that； Honno could not imagine。 It was as if she had entered another world； someplace that most people never knew existed； let alone ever got to see； a world where the natural laws of physics； economics； and social customs were void； a world of smoke and dreams。 Honno put her head back； luxuriating in the feel of the German leather； and thought of nothing。
Their first stop was in Shinjuku。 Honno and Fukuda rode the high…speed elevator to the fortieth floor。 He led her down a corridor filled only with the hushed whisper of the air…conditioning。
Fukuda produced a key。 They slipped through a small door just down the hall from a set of imposing double doors on which was painted one character in kanji； KAGA； along with the corporate logo in three…dimensional bronze； which was as universally known as that of Mitsubishi or Panasonic。
The rooms through which they passed like ghosts were silent； save for the battery of fax machines running； now and again； like arcane radios； picking up the random conversation of the cosmos； sending out their own messages in timed sequence to Australia； West Germany； me United States； on and on； a bizarre automated munication among masses of electronic circuits and silicone chips； whole cities of a new civilization。
At length Fukuda turned a doorknob； and as he did so； he put his forefinger briefly across Honno's lips。 Shhh。 Honno found herself in a secretary's anteroom。 The window behind the empty desk had its blinds up； and a brilliant shaft of light shot outward。 Fukuda led her around to an area of shadow where they could stand and peer into the inner office； assured of not being seen themselves。
Inside； a heavyset middle…aged man was busy on the sofa with a woman who had her skirt up over her hips。 Fukuda put his lips to Honno's ear。 〃The man is Kaga's senior vice…president of finance。 Does the woman look familiar？〃
Honno looked； was stunned to recognize Mama…san from the house that Big Ezoe owned； where they had discovered her husband with his lover。
Honno watched； fascinated； as the Kaga vice…president worked assiduously on his own pleasure。 It was odd； she thought； how incongruous； even grotesque； the act could appear without the elusive ingredient of sexual attraction。 The one true magic potion…passion…was the great leveler that cut through race； religion； even class。 Honno considered it the most powerful force on earth。 How many great men had been laid low by their lust？
Fukuda gestured； and Honno followed him silently back through the maze of offices； the whining fax machines。
Downstairs； the streets were slick with moisture。 A kind of precipitation was falling on Tokyo that could not quite be called rain。 It had picked up so much of the industrial pollutants in the air that it fell like sleet； though the temperature was warm。 One day the Japanese would find a term for it； just as they would find a way to describe the automatic nocturnal conversations between faxes。
The purring Mercedes took Honno and Fukuda onward； through the nocturnal traffic； deep into the heart of Shinjuku； dark with forbidden pleasures despite the sprays of brilliant neon shooting up the sides of buildings； reflected endlessly in glass towers； spreading like dye along the wet tarmac of the streets。
The Mercedes slid to a stop in front of an udon…a noodle parlor。 Fukuda took Honno through the dingy； steamy restaurant； down a long dark hallway that echoed with the tiny sounds of the city seeping through the walls like sweat。
They entered what was obviously a Yakuza gambling house。 Long low tables were set out upon the floor； around which were arrayed an interesting melange of men。 They were illuminated by wide…shaded lamps hung by cords from the ceiling。
Fukuda and Honno kept to the shadows ringing the walls。 Honno could see the irizumi…covered Yakuza； their fantastically conceived tattoos given a life of their own by the movements of their bodies as they moved packets of money around the tables。
This was no local gambling house； these were games played for the highest possible stakes。 And now Honno began to concentrate on the faces that belonged to the gamblers： the conservatively dressed； immaculately groomed； sober…visaged men； men such as she had seen every day of her business week trooping in and out of Kunio Michita's office。
Fukuda leaned unobtrusively toward her； whispered； 〃The third man on your left。 The one with the pencil mustache and the largest bets in the house。 He is the senior vice…president for administration for Kaga。''
Honno watched as if enwrapped by a kind of enchantment； as the senior Kaga officer proceeded to lose 6；500；000 yen… approximately 50；000…in just over an hour。 By that time his hair was disheveled； his tie was askew； there was sweat beading his pencil…thin mustache； and he was frantically writing out a marker for an equal amount。 The marker was passed from one Yakuza to another until； at length； it arrived at the head of the table。
A bald man with the image of a dragon tattooed on his shining skull took the slip； read it。 Then he looked up； poker…faced。 With a little thrill； Honno saw that he was looking directly at Fukuda。 Fukuda gave an almost imperceptible nod； and the man with the dragon tattoo pocketed the marker； slapped three packets of yen onto the table； had them passed to the Kaga officer。
Honno was wondering just how deeply Big Ezoe's claws had penetrated the Kaga conglomerate when they arrived at their third destination。 They were still within the precincts of Shinjuku； but this was the far side； where sleazy streets were inhabited by all manner of nocturnal creature； where it was often not safe to walk deep in the night when these creatures slithered out of their lairs。 Honno had certainly heard enough stories of this section of Shinjuku…every resident of Tokyo had； she imagined…but she had never been near it。
〃Have no fear； Mrs。 Kansei；〃 Fukuda said； as if reading her mind。 〃You are with me。〃 They stepped out onto the rainswept streets。 It was now well after midnight。
There was a scent Honno was not familiar with。 It was the stench of the effluvia of a large city…any city…where a certain section of human wreckage congregated： the psychologically halted； the emotionally crippled； the perverse and the perverted； caged； sent down； inhabiting a nighttime netherworld in the bowels of the city。
The