The Samurai Strategy Part 61

But there wasn't time. At that moment we heard the MITI copter settling onto the pad next to the hotel parking lot.

"Ken, here's to success." I saluted him with the last melting ice cubes.

He toasted back, then signaled for the bill. Time to get moving.

The chopper was a new Aerospatiale AS 365N Twin Dauphin, big and white, a VIP four-seater. Single pilot, capable of 180. (The j.a.panese love those high-rotor French copters.) Guess Ken had called in a lot of chips to arrange this customized three-wheeler for a couple of_ gaijin_. The seat-mile costs alone must have been staggering. But there it was, fully serviced and set to go.

He walked over, ducking the rotor, and advised the pilot that there had been a slight change of plans. They'd be returning directly back to Tokyo. The man, wearing a blue uniform, bowed and gave him a little salute. They seemed to be old friends. Well, I thought, if deputy ministers don't use this gold-plated extravagance, then who's it for?

Then he returned to pick up his briefcase (Noda's silver box safely therein), have a brief farewell, and give us his keys.

"Tamara, telex me the minute you get back. We'll proceed immediately.

Full speed."

"Let's go for it." She smiled and drew his face down for a long, languorous kiss. I then shook his hand, and we headed for the car.

Since our bags were just little carry-ons, we looked solid to catch the United flight with a couple of hours to spare, a.s.suming traffic cooperated.

"Tam, how about taking the wheel? This left-hand-side-of- the-road driving takes practice. I almost hit somebody once in England."

"Sure." She reached for the keys, then turned back to wave to Ken. But he was already climbing aboard and didn't notice.

"Isn't it odd?" I mused, "We still haven't heard zip out of Noda. He must have realized by now we have his silver case. What's he planning to do? Where'll he try to head us off?"

"Good question." She turned the key in the ignition. "I'm not going to feel safe till we've got the actual goods on his phony sword. Not just some dummy data."

"My guess is he'll try and nail us at the airport. It'd be his best shot."

"At least Ken was smart enough to make the reservations under fake names, so he won't know which flight to watch."

"There're not that many. He could be covering them all. On the other hand, he'll a.s.sume we're arriving via the MITI chopper, so maybe we can dodge his. .h.i.t squad."

"I feel like I've been run through a wringer." She was pulling out of the slot, backing around to begin making her way through the rows of staff vehicles, all with special Tsukuba parking stickers.

"You can say that again. Who could have guessed all the . . ."

I'd reached around to check the back window, hoping to get the heat going, when my field of vision turned an incandescent orange, bright and glaring, as though the sun had just come in for a close encounter.

Before I could turn to see what . . . the dashboard rose up and slugged me in the teeth, as a shock wave flung us both against the seat belts.

We're dead, I thought. We've been bombed. Noda's just dropped . . .

Then I looked up.

The MITI Aerospatiale, about two hundred feet off the ground, had become a blazing sphere, a grotesque nova. Now its rotor blades were clawing the air, askew, while it circled downward like a wounded bird.

An instant later it nosed into the parking lot behind us, hurtling fragments of tail a.s.sembly through several empty staff cars.

I sat mesmerized as a second ball of fire erupted where it had crashed.

One of the fuel tanks had ignited, just like in the movies.

"Ken!" Tam let out a choked cry after the first few seconds of disbelief. Then she slammed the transmission into 'Park' and began ripping off her seat belt.

Where's she going? Doesn't she realize--?

Her door was open and she was stumbling out. That's when I finally came to my senses, which included the sobering thought that there might be more fuel tanks, such as the auxiliary, that hadn't yet blown.

"Wait!" I'd ripped off my own seat harness by that time and had rolled out to begin running after her as she stumbled across the snowy stretch of asphalt separating us from the flames.

She was moving like a gazelle, but I managed to catch up about thirty yards from the wreckage. Using a modified shoulder block, I pulled her around and tried to get a grip.

"Tam, n.o.body could survive that. We've got to stay back . . ."

At which point we both slipped and collapsed in a patch of snow . . .

just as the last fuel tank detonated with the impact of a sonic boom.

Memory can be a little unreliable under such circ.u.mstances, but I still remember more wreckage sailing past us, including a strut off the landing gear that gouged a furrow in the asphalt no more than ten feet from our heads.

"Tam, he never knew what hit him. It had to be instantaneous." I was trying to brush the wet snow off her face as I slipped my arm around her shoulders. She was still holding back the tears, but only just.

"We didn't even have a real good-bye." Her words were jagged. "There were so many things . . . I was hoping we . . ."

Her voice trailed off into tears.

"Look, I only knew him for a day, but that was enough to learn some things. Kenji Asano was a wise and n.o.ble soul. Everything about him was good."

She took my hand and held it against her cheek. "Matt, he was so kind.

That was what . . . He was . . . all that I . . ." Her eyes were reflecting back the flames, now billowing into the pale afternoon sky.

Around us the labs were emptying as technicians raced toward the lot, white coats fluttering.

"You know, he said something to me today. About you . . ."

"What?" She glanced up, her face streaked. "What did he

say?"

"He must have known there was danger. He sort of asked me to look out for you."

"Danger?" She looked back at the wreckage, and a new tear trailed down her left cheek. "I guess we don't really know for sure, do we? Maybe it was just a fuel tank rupture, or . . ."

"You don't believe that."

"No." The tears, abruptly, were gone. "Matsuo Noda just took away the one . . . Matt, I'm going to kill him."

It was a sentiment I shared in buckets. The question was merely how.

Medieval torture seemed too kind. I started to say something inane, and then, finally, the shocking truth landed with the force of that last explosion.

"Tam, that was supposed to be us." I was gazing at the flames, watching talons of metal contort in the heat. "Noda thought we were going to be on that copter."

"My G.o.d, of course."

"We've got to get out of here. Now. There's nothing anybody can do for Ken."