The Samurai Strategy Part 40

Press on. "Well, I have some news you may not like. This Asano genius personally engineered the destruction of the U.S. industry in RAM chips. Probably the most devastating sneak attack on America since Pearl Harbor."

She stiffened. "Who told you that?"

"Let's just say I heard it. So what's this guy doing all of a sudden saving U.S. high-tech industry? He's already cost this country tens of thousands of jobs and literally billions of dollars."

"I don't believe it. I know Ken. Sure, he works for MITI, but his job is overseeing j.a.pan's own research in supercomputers. He's very proud of their progress."

Oops. I swirled my snifter. "Whatever you say. If that's really true, then excuse me. I take it all back."

She looked up--probably not believing my diplomatic reversal--and watched as I casually slipped my arm around her waist. I couldn't tell if she wanted it to happen or not.

Thinking I might have some momentum going, I reached back and pulled a couple of wide cus.h.i.+ons off the couch, stationed them by the fire, then eased us both against them. I tried to do it with naturalness, finesse.

It wasn't happening.

"Matthew, underneath all that unnecessary bl.u.s.ter, which is just as I remember, you're still a half-decent guy, which I also remember. But I don't really think this is a good idea." She looked at me, her face highlighted in the orange glow of the embers.

"I hope it's not because you have other commitments." I heard my voice harden. "Like maybe in j.a.pan."

"I'm just a little distracted tonight, that's all." She watched as I trailed a finger around the hard tip of a nipple beneath her s.h.i.+rt.

Gently she moved my hand away. "Don't start."

"Maybe I can at least get a rain check." I retired from the field.

"Possibly." She smiled, then gave me a telling glance. "A while ago you said something about another place."

My soundproof chamber?

"Right." I rose. "We're always open around here for travelers on a frosty night." I helped her up. "And for this evening's special introductory offer, there's a hot tub down the hall. Why don't you let me fill it, and you can unwind those muscles for a while, j.a.panese- style or California-style or whatever. Do you good."

She looked me over a second, then smiled. "Lots of nice, loud running water?"

"Exactly."

Off we went to the Italian-marble bathroom there off the downstairs bedroom. I'd installed that little indulgence for Joanna back during happier times; these days I used it as the world's largest laundry hamper--ripping it out would have cost a fortune. Jo's revenge, I called the thing.

She marched in, took a look about the room, which had one of those big tubs trimmed in redwood, and said it reminded her of a place near Ise.

She did at least have the discretion to omit the circ.u.mstances of that occasion.

What happened next sort of shook my cool, my being a good Texas lapsed- Baptist. You see, I'd never bought into the nudity-is-wholesome ethic of the Age of Aquarius. Pa.s.sed me right by. I mean, where's the fun in life without a little forbidden fruit? But Tam just began shucking her clothes. Everything. Kept going till she'd even doffed her little beige knickers, piling everything one piece at a time in a neat heap on the counter. Just like that. While bold corporate raider Matt Walton stood there in terminal astonishment, grasping the edge of the sink as if it were a life preserver. My nonchalance was an Oscar-winning performance.

Now in the attire G.o.d gave her, she calmly inquired if I had any bubble bath.

"Well, ah, sure, I mean, I suppose so, probably somewhere around here.

If not, there's probably a box of Tide in the bas.e.m.e.nt." I groped blindly in the cabinet and my hand fell upon a pink bottle whose label read "Mr. Bubble." What's this? Then I realized it must be some suds stashed there by Amy. Bet she saw somebody soaking on TV and concluded that's the way grown-up women behaved. My G.o.d, it's in their genes.

Then I turned around.

Tell you one thing, Dr. Tamara Richardson was still in great

shape. All of her. Was she pulling a tease number on me, or just doing what comes naturally? Sad to say, I fear it was the latter. I guess she'd somehow internalized this j.a.panese idea that nudity is no big deal.

"Tam"--I finally found my voice--"you're something else. I know you're smart, and I'm beginning to remember you never were all that retiring.

How about refres.h.i.+ng me on a few of the other things I seem to have forgot."

"I think I wanted to be a boy." She laughed as she sampled the water with her toe. "I thought they had all the fun." Now she was pouring in a test portion of Amy's Mr. Bubble. "Then I found out girls could do anything boys could, but usually better. So I stopped worrying about it." She stepped in.

"Easy. You're talking to an unreconstructed male chauvinist."

"What else is new? You all are at heart. At least you have the decency to admit it." She dumped in the remainder of the pink gunk. Will somebody please tell me why women, all women, go for that stuff? An exaggeration, you say? Ever see one turn it down?

"Hey, I'm trying to deprogram myself, but it's uphill work." I watched as a perfectly formed breast disappeared beneath the foam. "I tend to be old-fas.h.i.+oned."

"I recall all too well."

"Well, give me a chance." I leaned back against the sink. "You know, this striptease isn't helping repress my primal male instincts a whole heck of a lot."

"Matt, for somebody who's supposed to be an expert on j.a.pan, you've understood very little about us."

"Us?"

"You know. I'm half and half." She flashed me a Mona Lisa smile as she was wrapping her hair in a towel. I found myself thinking that at least she shaves her underarms, a minor concession to conventional propriety.

"Well, so what. I'm an equal-opportunity seductionist. That is, when I get the opportunity."

"Not making much headway tonight, I fear." Another tricky smile. She was starting to drive me distracted.

"Thought you'd never notice."

"Matt, you're an emotional basket case. I've seen plenty." She looked me over sympathetically. "Sorry, but I've got enough problems of my very own. You'll have to manage your own salvation."

"Could be you're just deceived by my sensitive nature." I leaned against the counter, playing peek-a-boo with a tan nipple now half- concealed in the bubbles. "Mistaking it for brain damage."

"Uh, uh." She shook her head in the negative. "I read your gender pretty well."

I was beginning to get a little annoyed. Who needed this? "Tell you what, Dr. Richardson, for all my putative failings, I do happen to possess a modest allotment of native wit. And my male intuition tells me your dance card is full right now. That same right-brain perception also suggests it has something to do with this MlTl honcho Asano."

"So?"

"So that upsets me for a couple of reasons, only one of which will probably be of any interest to you. I don't think you have an entirely open mind on the possibility MITI or somebody may be about to try and nail this country to the wall. Because if you admitted that, you would also have to admit something you apparently find distasteful to concede about your Prince Charming." I watched her eyes grow sad. "Stop me if I cross the line from preaching to meddling--to use a little expression from my youth."

"Matthew, you've just ceased being nice." She looked down. "What do you do if you think you trust somebody and then you find out maybe that trust is . . . misplaced?"

"Old Ecclesiasticus, back in Bible times, told us, 'In the time of adversity, consider.' As advice goes, that's still probably sound value for the dollar. Like for example, you might want to back off and do a little thinking on whether Noda and his crowd have been using you, and me for that matter, like a couple of patsies."

When she said nothing, I pressed on. "I walk into the office yesterday, the first thing I hear about is some MITI connection, then tonight I hear about your MITI connection, and it's starting to sound like the same tune. Like maybe these guys have been playing you like a violin."

"But why me?"