“Business has been good?” Tokugawa said, his gaze on Fat, whose face was illuminated by gently swaying lanterns hung from rigging.
When Fat spoke or moved, his flesh quivered like freshly kneaded bread dough. His enormous girth, spilling over the chair, threatened the seams of his hand-sewn black-and-red silk pajamas. It was said that Fat kept a pistol hidden in his rolls of flesh, and Tokugawa wondered if that was true.
“I owe my success and great, good fortune to you, Iseda-san.” He smoked a Marlboro to its filter, lit another from its ember. “I am pleased to offer you my humble services. I am always at your call.”
Tokugawa was not taken in by Fat’s obsequious manner and insipid mutterings. He knew that no Chinese ever conceded the upper hand to a foreigner, much less a Japanese. “I appreciate your kindness, Wu-san. Now, please allow me to speak frankly.”
“Yes, please, speak as you wish. We have no secrets from each other.”
Tokugawa knew better. “I have sad news. Ojima’s protégé, Naito, is dead. Murdered. So unfortunate.”
Fat said nothing as he puffed on his Marlboro, the smoke carried away by a sharp wind that made the halyards whistle.
“Apparently Naito wanted to do business on his own. I don’t know the details but was told he offended one of his customers and was… removed. Perhaps Naito failed to see that his link to the present was a bridge to the future. Failed to understand that trust, respect, fealty, openness never go out of style. Perhaps if he’d not forgotten that, he’d still be alive.”
Fat toyed with his Marlboro. With the rippling red-and-black silk pajamas plastered to his body by the wind, he mulled this over. “An unfortunate turn of events, Iseda-san. I didn’t know Naito personally but of course have heard his name. I believe he had connections to individuals wanting to invest in Kabukicho. Perhaps he offended one of them.”
“Perhaps.” Tokugawa shrugged.
“I don’t think this affair need have any effect on our relationship, do you? Naito, as you say, was an irritant and now a forgotten artifact. We have a fine arrangement, and nothing will change that. After all, we are businessmen and must look out for each others’ interests, and, if possible, advance them, is that not so?”
Tokugawa looked away, into a dark and sinister sea.
“Mistakes are made and mistakes are corrected,” Fat said, not unwilling to grovel to make things right. “Things will continue as they have.”
Tokugawa turned his gaze on Fat. “Excellent.”
They toasted, after which Tokugawa said, “Marshal Jin. How do you read him?”
“Confident. He is quite eager to meet with you. Whatever your arrangements with him are, I wish you great success. If it is a new business venture, I would like to say that my own arrangement with the North Koreans has always been cordial.”
“And mutually profitable.”
“They have products and we have lines of distribution and, of course, influence. Very profitable. But also dangerous. As you know, Beijing wants to exert control over the East and South China Seas. The Americans are trying to prevent this. Some day China and America will go to war to decide who controls what. Such a war would bring an end to my arrangements with North Korea, and thus with the Mainland Chinese and Taiwan.”
“There will be no war between China and the United States.”