"Let's get out of here." Tam was still grasping the Uzi."Not so fast." I reached for the grip. "You don't get to have all the fun. How do you operate this thing?""Just pull there." She pointed, then raised the muzzle. "Careful. You might need that foot someday."I lifted it up and it coughed a burst of flame. The water cooler outside my office exploded."Uh, I think you have to be Chuck Norris to do it like that. On a scale of one to ten, that round scores down in the fractions. Better aim.""Spoilsport." But I did. I took critical bead on a leering green monitor, squeezed, and felt a light kick from the metal stock. Out blinked one of the dying monster's eyes. Then I methodically took out half a dozen more workstations, just for the hell of it. Automatic weapons fire can be great therapy. Not to mention fun."Okay for a beginner . . . Matt!" She was pointing at the desk of Noda's secretary. A phone light had just flashed on. "He's calling in reinforcements.""Time to make our not-so-graceful exit.""Bring the automatic.""You've got it . . . and, uh, I'm a little embarrassed to ask you for money, but would you mind grabbing your purse. We may need it.""You're now broke, right?" She dashed for her office."So we're told." I was wrapping the Uzi in some computer printouts that hadn't yet caught fire. The place was really starting to blaze, thanks to all the paper. Smoke everywhere.While she was coming back, I decided to go over and kickthe desk away from Noda's door. Sure it was a risk, but we couldn't let him burn to death. Or Mori. Besides, we were home free. With the NEC supercomputer blown to pieces, as well as Jim Bob, there was absolutely no way Noda could cancel that stack of buy orders we'd seeded all around the globe. Nothing could stop the bomb.As we made our way through security, we saw Mori coming out of the office, choking through the smoke and looking crazed as ever. Apparently the battle of Dan-no-ura, twentieth-century style, was still raging. Then Noda appeared in the doorway behind her and just stood there surveying the blazing ruins of his empire. With his customary discipline, he appeared totally unperturbed by it all. Not her, though. She lunged for the remains of the computer room, now billowing smoke and tongues of fire. The last thing on her mind, apparently, was us.Which was just as well, because the second we hit the hallway we heard the elevator chime. It had to be Noda's backup forces. Without a word we both ducked for the stairwell, and as the metal door slammed behind us, Tanaka and a host of armed DNI security guards poured off the elevator like gangbusters. Turns out there'd been a small army poised downstairs just in case.They could have the place, what was left of it. My last memory of that office was a raging torrent of smoke and flame. Nothing remained. This had to be the grand finale for Dai Nippon and Matsuo Noda. The end.Finis.Barring unforeseen developments.CHAPTER THIRTYWhen we emerged into the lobby calmly as we could muster, fire engines were racing up outside, cops were crowded around the elevators, and Eddie was so frantic yelling about the holocaust up on eleven he didn't even bother to say hello. We searched in vain for Henderson as we worked our way through the milling throng, headed for the pay phone in the corner. Bill had to be somewhere; nobody else would have blacked out the DNI offices.My first thought, though, was that we needed to make tracks. The brouhaha to come would best be handled from the safety of a foreign shore. Fortunately in my pocket was just enough change for one call, and as luck would have it, our man was in."Sure, Matt, no problem. But this is damned sudden.""Right now, Patrick. And hurry. Could be the perfect moment for an extended vacation. How about just sending the car around? Over on Third, near—""That Japanese place you told me you work for?""Worked for, Patrick. No more. Just got laid off.""Hell, I know where they are. It's all over the tube. I'm sitting here right now watching Jack O'Donnell blow his stack at a press briefing down in D.C. Wish you could see the guy. It's live on CNN. Is this thing for real? What was that Dai Nippon outfit trying to do? Buy up every—"Incredible. Henderson had really come through."Patrick.""Yeah.""Fill you in on all the details over a drink someday. Right now, though, we could really use Charlie and the car ASAP. We'll be waiting outside.""We?"I looked at the smoke-smeared woman standing beside me. "Truthfully, I'm hoping for some company."Tam smiled, then reached out and took my hand. Not a word about "strictly business.""Okay, Matt, Charlie just walked in. I'll send him straight on over.""Thanks a million. Owe you a big one."As we moved on out through the revolving doors, we finally spotted Henderson, wearing his gray topcoat and mingled in among the crowd on the sidewalk. The lowest of low profiles. For a second I almost didn't recognize the man. He looked a wreck, standing there shading his eyes and squinting up. Then I followed his gaze and realized smoke was pouring out of the windows on eleven. Seems we'd demolished a little exterior plate glass, too, along with everything else."Bill." I signaled. "Over here.""Walton, thank God." He waved and pushed our way. "I was worried stiff you two might still be up there. What in hell happened? Did you just blow up—""Long story. There was a small war, a new one and an old one. But how'd you get here? Noda said he was having your placewatched. A couple of—""Yeah, I saw those two apes. They were in my lobby in handcuffs, being grilled by New York's Finest when I came through. Our doorman figured they were casing us for a robbery and called the cops. What's Noda think—I live in a fucking tent? I pay for top security, friend. The best.""Anyway, nice work with the lights. Much appreciated. The bad news is, you might want to get out of town for a while. Maybe go skiing someplace. The whole thing fell apart. Noda just brought in a whole new load of funding.""Hell, I figured that out the minute I saw the Times lying there outside my door. Only one place the market could be getting this kind of dough. Tokyo pension funds. So I went back in and called Jack.""You made the right move, tipping him off.""Maybe he can get trading shut down. Stop it somehow.""We stopped it ourselves," Tam interjected, then indicated the paper bundle in her hands, black metal stock protruding out of one corner."God Almighty." He stared around at the policemen racing by, walkie-talkies chattering. "Where's Jim Bob? I got a good mind to—""Your hotshot screwed us, Bill. Noda got to him and bought him off.""I figured that out too. Little fucker." He grimaced. "Guess I trained him too well.""He didn't deserve his payoff. Somebody'd better hustle a medic up there fast.""Let them take care of it." He thumbed at the firemen piling off their trucks, then bent over and pecked Tam on the cheek. "Well, Professor, it's been short and sweet. Keep 'em honest." He reached for my hand. "Walton, you know how I hate to travel on short notice, but considering the situation . . . St. Moritz might be nice for a while.""Drink some Pear William for us.""Will do. Best of luck.""Same to you." I watched him flip up the collar on his coat as he turned. "Oh, by the way, Bill, one last thing.""Yeah?" He glanced back."Want a little insider information?""Wouldn't dream of listening." He returned like a shot."Might not be a bad idea to short every high-tech stock DNI currently holds. There's a finite possibility all hell's going to break loose at the opening tomorrow.""What's the story?" He was all ears.Tam turned to me. "Are you finally going to explain what that scam with Jim Bob was all about?""Well, now there's some time. What I did was sucker him into posting buy orders for an additional five percent of every company on your kill list.""I'm well aware of that." She just continued to stare."Which means that when the SEC reports those holdings, it'll trigger the new provisions their majority stockholder— with whose power of attorney I acted with full legal authority—voted last week.""Which was?""It's a little like what's being called a 'tin parachute' these days, the latest twist on the antitakeover 'poison pill.'""Isn't that where managements have their boards vote that a hostile buyout will trigger big disbursements of a company's assets to the rank and file? What's that got to do with . . . ?""That's the play. Great takeover defense, by the way.""But Noda had already taken those companies over." She frowned, puzzling."Right. Obviously, nobody's supposed to institute oneaftera takeover, but that's what Dai Nippon voted to do last Wednesday and Thursday for every company it owns. The way it's set up now, if the majority stockholder in any of those companies, which just happens to be DNI, acquires another four percent or more, all that stockholder's stock is automatically disbursed to the employees.""Just like that?""Fully legal. Like a 'tin parachute.'""But what will . . . ?""Let me finish. In my version there're some strings attached. The money can't be used to just go out and buy Toyotas. I arranged it so that all the stock will be held in escrow for ten years and used as collateral for loans specially earmarked to finance expansion and R and D. In other words the employees are about to become those companies' new bank partner.""What in holy hell are you talking about?" Henderson appeared to have just entered shock. His bloodshot eyes were like saucers. "Noda's piece of those high-tech outfits is just going to be given to the troops, then locked up as security for new financing?""Bill, try and think of it as a different kind of 'restructuring,' that grand new corporate scam. But instead of the standard rip-off where managers entrench themselves by loading up a company with debt and bribing their shareholders with the money, I turned the whole thing upside down. Gave the control of those companies to their workers, who'll now have a stake in dividends and profits.""Walton, you idiot. Stock prices for those outfits are going to nosedive the second news of this hits the Street. It'll scare the institutions shitless. I've never heard anything so crazy.""Who knows what'll happen? Let the 'supply side' economists try and figure it out. My guess is we're about to find out if anybody here still believes in the working man. In any case it can't make things worse, and it should be great fun to watch. At least American industry is about to be owned by the people who punch the time clocks. Maybe working for ourselves instead of investment bankers will help things get rolling again.""I don't believe you did this." Tam fell against me laughing. "Do you realize what it really means? Noda's totally destroyed. He'll have to sell off that new portfolio of blue chips just to have enough profit to cover the claims of his original Eight-Hundred-Year-Fund investors. After this, no Japanese money manager is going to give him a yen. He's history.""Bushido. When you break the rules, things like that can happen.""Jesus, I'm not going to screw around short selling. I'm just gonna load up on puts before the opening tomorrow. You oughta do the same, Walton. When the Street gets wind of this and all those stocks crater, you could clear millions." Bill headed briskly up the avenue."Stay well." We watched him disappear into the crowd, then started searching for Charlie Morgan and the car.Incidentally, the recipient of that phone call wasn't really named Patrick. Since there are laws about smuggling firearms in and out of countries, and we damned well were going to take along the Uzi, it seems only right to give him a pseudonym. His charter outfit, which works out of that hangar off to the side of the majors at Kennedy, keeps a Lear that can make the Caribbean in one hop if it's not too full. He even picks you up in a limo, his come-on for the carriage trade.About ten minutes later we saw Charlie working the Rolls around all the fire engines double-parked on Third and waving for us."Good to see you again, Matt." He glanced back as we settled in. "Christ, you two look terrible. Were you up there?""Just left.""Must have been a hell of a fire from the looks of it." He hit the gas and made a right turn. "Where to? Straight down Fifth to your place?""One quick stop first. Over on West Seventy-eighth.""The West Side? In this traffic? Come on, Matt. I still haven't had lunch.""Just cut through Central Park. Should be a snap."While he and Tam waited outside the West Side "Free School, I went in to try and kidnap Amy. It wasn't easy. I finally explained to Ms. Winters that my daughter's Christmas vacation had merely been delayed a little this year, but better late than never. After some haggling, we struck a deal on homework. Then, in a limo piled high with school books, class projects, lunch boxes, and a black Israeli Uzi, we headed downtown."Dad, you've gone nuts." My only offspring was in heaven."Honey, we're going to snorkel for two weeks solid. Think you can stand the old man for that long?""Can we have a Christmas tree? You promised.""I'll cut it myself.""And a Christmas party too?""Might have to call it something else, but I suppose we can give it a try. If you keep up on the homework." I looked at her, failing as usual to understand the movements of her mind. "Sweetie, why do you want to throw a party? This is supposed to be a vacation.""Dad, really. Don't you remember that neat boy from Sweden whose parents have that house across the bay? He was teaching me windsurfing last summer. He's in junior year now, but if he's there, we've got to have a party. Don't you understand?""Guess we'll have a party."What can you do? Nobody said you're supposed to win them all.Bad news, or maybe it was good news, travels with amazing speed in this day and age. The late edition of the Tuesday New York Post found its way to the Caribbean on an evening flight, and since it took us a while to get out of town, it actually reached the Virgin Islands shortly before we did. However, since we flew directly into St. Croix instead of the main island of St. Thomas, we missed the delivery.As it happened, though, an old acquaintance was passing the house that night on a personal mission, and he was kind enough to drop off Rupert Murdoch's Tuesday contribution to journalism.The time was around ten P.M. Amy was sound asleep, conked out from twilight windsurfing, and Tam and I were working on a pitcher of planter's punch by the pool when there came the sound of honking out front. I went in and unlocked the entry, then peeked out to see who it was. The red, white, and blue jeep belonged to none other than Artie Wilson, dressed to the nines."Walton, my man, you done gone and got yourself famous." He grinned with delight, then threw a rolled-up newspaper toward the door. "Tole you it'd be yo' ass.""Artie, what in hell. Turn that thing off and come in for a drink. Somebody I want you to meet.""Hey, late for a reception at that new place down the beach. Think all them hot New York divorcees jus' come down here for nothing but sunshine an' vitamin D? Gotta keep the tourists satisfied." He revved his engine and began backing out of the drive. "Tomorrow, maybe, Feds ain't nailed yo' honkie butt by then."With which enigmatic pronouncement he sped into the humid night.I picked up the bundle, then snapped on the yard lights and strolled back out where Tam was sitting, still wearing her pool robe. What was Artie talking about?As I settled down beside her and unrolled the paper, staring back at us from the front page were two very familiar faces."Off one of my book jackets," she said. "I never much cared for it.""Mine's from their photo morgue, during some takeover circus."Guess we should have been keeping closer tabs on the news. Seems that Matsuo Noda, president of Dai Nippon, Int., had held a press conference mid-afternoon Tuesday to refute all the misinformation being spread by Senator Jack O'Donnell. As he claimed, it was actually two Americans, former employees of DNI, who had been responsible for Dai Nippon's secret hostile takeover of the U.S.'s largest corporations. He made this point to dispute Senator O'Donnell's assertion that they had been the ones who'd stopped it. (See photo, page 1.) He went on to apologize for what apparently had been a severe communications mix-up within DNI, which brought about this unauthorized action, and he was pleased to report he personally had taken steps to terminate the buy-up this very morning, as of 11:53 A.M.Run that whopper by Jack's subcommittee, Noda-san.There was more. Seems the body of an unidentified male—young, Caucasian, and badly burned—had been recovered by firemen on the eleventh floor of DNI's offices. Noda had no idea who this person was, perhaps a misfortunate prowler. . . ."Matt, look!" She was pointing at a paragraph on the lower half of the page.There'd been a second casualty, although not as serious. The well-known Japanese financial commentator Akira Mori had been borne, unconscious, from the premises. Acute smoke inhalation. As of press time she was in intensive care at Mt. Sinai Hospital."We saw her come out of the office. It was pretty smoky by then, but how could . . . ?"The answer followed. Firemen reportedly had discovered her in the computer room near the mainframe's burned-out storage banks. Speculation was she had been attempting to save the hard disks, the vital DNI files."Mori wasn't trying to save anything." Tam tossed down the paper. "She wanted to make sure all the disks were destroyed.To protect the Emperor from a scandal over Noda's sword hoax.""Another victim for the Imperial sword." I looked up at the starry sky, a mosaic of silver and black as the Milky Way floated above us. The night air was symphonic with the sound of crickets. "How many more?"Then she retrieved thePostand we finished the item. After Noda's prepared statement there'd been a Q&A—during which he reaffirmed his intention to use all available means to block Senator O'Donnell's subpoena of DNI's remaining records, an action he declared confiscatory and groundless. Privileged information, etc.He did, however, manage to wrap things up on a forward- looking note. Today's unfortunate, indeed tragic, accidental fire should be understood as merely a momentary setback. Nothing that had happened would in any way diminish his program of capital infusion and open-market acquisition in America's high-tech sector. Wall Street need not worry; Senator O'Donnell's "harassment" notwithstanding, Dai Nippon's money was here to stay. We were now partners. His grand new alliance, Nipponica, would shape the world to come."That's what he thinks." She laughed. "Wait till he wakes up tomorrow and discovers he just donated all his high-tech acquisitions to their employees. Don't think that fits the big strategy. One thing, though, America's overpaid, golf-playing senior executives could have some wild and woolly board meetings ahead.""Life's full of surprises." I pulled her over and slipped my arm around."And the biggest one for me, this week at least, has been you." She turned and kissed me softly on the mouth, then again. My heart skipped.Whereupon she abruptly rose and dove headfirst into the pool. Without her suit.Looked to be a second chance coming up this year, for us all.AFTERWORDContemporary tales of technology and economics engage a moving target, which means they must necessarily include an element of forecasting. Inventing the world to come is always more an art than a science, and the results can never be precise. Trends, however, do have a way of continuing. Sometimes, in fact, you look into the crystal ball and hope what you see never happens. This fable is offered in that spirit.Those who have critiqued this manuscript all or in part include agent, editors, and friends. Special thanks are due, in alphabetical order, to Virginia Barber, Susan and Norman Feinstein, Joanna Field, Linda Grey, Joyce Hawley, Fred Klein, and, perhaps most importantly, Gary Prideaux, who introduced this writer to the magic of Japan two decades ago. Others who were kind enough to offer suggestions include N. R. Kleinfield, Pamela McCorduck, Ellen Solomon, Anna Stern, Karen Sunde, Christopher Martin, Eric Allison, Susan Stoller, Michael Cavallo, Makiko and Kazuyoshi Morikawa, Jim Piper, Tim Richards, Paul Bove, Eric Bove, Charles Gordon, Janet Miller,DavidPalmer, Arthur Blatt, and Malcolm Bosse. If this story succeeds in any measure, it is because of them. Its faults are the author's alone.BOOKS BY THOMAS HOOVERNonfictionZen CultureThe Zen ExperienceFictionThe MoghulCaribbeeWall StreetSamurai(TheSamuraiStrategy)Project DaedalusProject CyclopsLife BloodSyndromeAll free as e-books atwww.thomashoover.info
"Let's get out of here." Tam was still grasping the Uzi.
"Not so fast." I reached for the grip. "You don't get to have all the fun. How do you operate this thing?"
"Just pull there." She pointed, then raised the muzzle. "Careful. You might need that foot someday."
I lifted it up and it coughed a burst of flame. The water cooler outside my office exploded.
"Uh, I think you have to be Chuck Norris to do it like that. On a scale of one to ten, that round scores down in the fractions. Better aim."
"Spoilsport." But I did. I took critical bead on a leering green monitor, squeezed, and felt a light kick from the metal stock. Out blinked one of the dying monster's eyes. Then I methodically took out half a dozen more workstations, just for the hell of it. Automatic weapons fire can be great therapy. Not to mention fun.
"Okay for a beginner . . . Matt!" She was pointing at the desk of Noda's secretary. A phone light had just flashed on. "He's calling in reinforcements."
"Time to make our not-so-graceful exit."
"Bring the automatic."
"You've got it . . . and, uh, I'm a little embarrassed to ask you for money, but would you mind grabbing your purse. We may need it."
"You're now broke, right?" She dashed for her office.
"So we're told." I was wrapping the Uzi in some computer printouts that hadn't yet caught fire. The place was really starting to blaze, thanks to all the paper. Smoke everywhere.
While she was coming back, I decided to go over and kick
the desk away from Noda's door. Sure it was a risk, but we couldn't let him burn to death. Or Mori. Besides, we were home free. With the NEC supercomputer blown to pieces, as well as Jim Bob, there was absolutely no way Noda could cancel that stack of buy orders we'd seeded all around the globe. Nothing could stop the bomb.
As we made our way through security, we saw Mori coming out of the office, choking through the smoke and looking crazed as ever. Apparently the battle of Dan-no-ura, twentieth-century style, was still raging. Then Noda appeared in the doorway behind her and just stood there surveying the blazing ruins of his empire. With his customary discipline, he appeared totally unperturbed by it all. Not her, though. She lunged for the remains of the computer room, now billowing smoke and tongues of fire. The last thing on her mind, apparently, was us.
Which was just as well, because the second we hit the hallway we heard the elevator chime. It had to be Noda's backup forces. Without a word we both ducked for the stairwell, and as the metal door slammed behind us, Tanaka and a host of armed DNI security guards poured off the elevator like gangbusters. Turns out there'd been a small army poised downstairs just in case.
They could have the place, what was left of it. My last memory of that office was a raging torrent of smoke and flame. Nothing remained. This had to be the grand finale for Dai Nippon and Matsuo Noda. The end.Finis.
Barring unforeseen developments.
When we emerged into the lobby calmly as we could muster, fire engines were racing up outside, cops were crowded around the elevators, and Eddie was so frantic yelling about the holocaust up on eleven he didn't even bother to say hello. We searched in vain for Henderson as we worked our way through the milling throng, headed for the pay phone in the corner. Bill had to be somewhere; nobody else would have blacked out the DNI offices.
My first thought, though, was that we needed to make tracks. The brouhaha to come would best be handled from the safety of a foreign shore. Fortunately in my pocket was just enough change for one call, and as luck would have it, our man was in.
"Sure, Matt, no problem. But this is damned sudden."
"Right now, Patrick. And hurry. Could be the perfect moment for an extended vacation. How about just sending the car around? Over on Third, near—"
"That Japanese place you told me you work for?"
"Worked for, Patrick. No more. Just got laid off."
"Hell, I know where they are. It's all over the tube. I'm sitting here right now watching Jack O'Donnell blow his stack at a press briefing down in D.C. Wish you could see the guy. It's live on CNN. Is this thing for real? What was that Dai Nippon outfit trying to do? Buy up every—"
Incredible. Henderson had really come through.
"Patrick."
"Yeah."
"Fill you in on all the details over a drink someday. Right now, though, we could really use Charlie and the car ASAP. We'll be waiting outside."
"We?"
I looked at the smoke-smeared woman standing beside me. "Truthfully, I'm hoping for some company."
Tam smiled, then reached out and took my hand. Not a word about "strictly business."
"Okay, Matt, Charlie just walked in. I'll send him straight on over."
"Thanks a million. Owe you a big one."
As we moved on out through the revolving doors, we finally spotted Henderson, wearing his gray topcoat and mingled in among the crowd on the sidewalk. The lowest of low profiles. For a second I almost didn't recognize the man. He looked a wreck, standing there shading his eyes and squinting up. Then I followed his gaze and realized smoke was pouring out of the windows on eleven. Seems we'd demolished a little exterior plate glass, too, along with everything else.
"Bill." I signaled. "Over here."
"Walton, thank God." He waved and pushed our way. "I was worried stiff you two might still be up there. What in hell happened? Did you just blow up—"
"Long story. There was a small war, a new one and an old one. But how'd you get here? Noda said he was having your placewatched. A couple of—"
"Yeah, I saw those two apes. They were in my lobby in handcuffs, being grilled by New York's Finest when I came through. Our doorman figured they were casing us for a robbery and called the cops. What's Noda think—I live in a fucking tent? I pay for top security, friend. The best."
"Anyway, nice work with the lights. Much appreciated. The bad news is, you might want to get out of town for a while. Maybe go skiing someplace. The whole thing fell apart. Noda just brought in a whole new load of funding."
"Hell, I figured that out the minute I saw the Times lying there outside my door. Only one place the market could be getting this kind of dough. Tokyo pension funds. So I went back in and called Jack."
"You made the right move, tipping him off."
"Maybe he can get trading shut down. Stop it somehow."
"We stopped it ourselves," Tam interjected, then indicated the paper bundle in her hands, black metal stock protruding out of one corner.
"God Almighty." He stared around at the policemen racing by, walkie-talkies chattering. "Where's Jim Bob? I got a good mind to—"
"Your hotshot screwed us, Bill. Noda got to him and bought him off."
"I figured that out too. Little fucker." He grimaced. "Guess I trained him too well."
"He didn't deserve his payoff. Somebody'd better hustle a medic up there fast."
"Let them take care of it." He thumbed at the firemen piling off their trucks, then bent over and pecked Tam on the cheek. "Well, Professor, it's been short and sweet. Keep 'em honest." He reached for my hand. "Walton, you know how I hate to travel on short notice, but considering the situation . . . St. Moritz might be nice for a while."
"Drink some Pear William for us."
"Will do. Best of luck."
"Same to you." I watched him flip up the collar on his coat as he turned. "Oh, by the way, Bill, one last thing."
"Yeah?" He glanced back.
"Want a little insider information?"
"Wouldn't dream of listening." He returned like a shot.
"Might not be a bad idea to short every high-tech stock DNI currently holds. There's a finite possibility all hell's going to break loose at the opening tomorrow."
"What's the story?" He was all ears.
Tam turned to me. "Are you finally going to explain what that scam with Jim Bob was all about?"
"Well, now there's some time. What I did was sucker him into posting buy orders for an additional five percent of every company on your kill list."
"I'm well aware of that." She just continued to stare.
"Which means that when the SEC reports those holdings, it'll trigger the new provisions their majority stockholder— with whose power of attorney I acted with full legal authority—voted last week."
"Which was?"
"It's a little like what's being called a 'tin parachute' these days, the latest twist on the antitakeover 'poison pill.'"
"Isn't that where managements have their boards vote that a hostile buyout will trigger big disbursements of a company's assets to the rank and file? What's that got to do with . . . ?"
"That's the play. Great takeover defense, by the way."
"But Noda had already taken those companies over." She frowned, puzzling.
"Right. Obviously, nobody's supposed to institute oneaftera takeover, but that's what Dai Nippon voted to do last Wednesday and Thursday for every company it owns. The way it's set up now, if the majority stockholder in any of those companies, which just happens to be DNI, acquires another four percent or more, all that stockholder's stock is automatically disbursed to the employees."
"Just like that?"
"Fully legal. Like a 'tin parachute.'"
"But what will . . . ?"
"Let me finish. In my version there're some strings attached. The money can't be used to just go out and buy Toyotas. I arranged it so that all the stock will be held in escrow for ten years and used as collateral for loans specially earmarked to finance expansion and R and D. In other words the employees are about to become those companies' new bank partner."
"What in holy hell are you talking about?" Henderson appeared to have just entered shock. His bloodshot eyes were like saucers. "Noda's piece of those high-tech outfits is just going to be given to the troops, then locked up as security for new financing?"
"Bill, try and think of it as a different kind of 'restructuring,' that grand new corporate scam. But instead of the standard rip-off where managers entrench themselves by loading up a company with debt and bribing their shareholders with the money, I turned the whole thing upside down. Gave the control of those companies to their workers, who'll now have a stake in dividends and profits."
"Walton, you idiot. Stock prices for those outfits are going to nosedive the second news of this hits the Street. It'll scare the institutions shitless. I've never heard anything so crazy."
"Who knows what'll happen? Let the 'supply side' economists try and figure it out. My guess is we're about to find out if anybody here still believes in the working man. In any case it can't make things worse, and it should be great fun to watch. At least American industry is about to be owned by the people who punch the time clocks. Maybe working for ourselves instead of investment bankers will help things get rolling again."
"I don't believe you did this." Tam fell against me laughing. "Do you realize what it really means? Noda's totally destroyed. He'll have to sell off that new portfolio of blue chips just to have enough profit to cover the claims of his original Eight-Hundred-Year-Fund investors. After this, no Japanese money manager is going to give him a yen. He's history."
"Bushido. When you break the rules, things like that can happen."
"Jesus, I'm not going to screw around short selling. I'm just gonna load up on puts before the opening tomorrow. You oughta do the same, Walton. When the Street gets wind of this and all those stocks crater, you could clear millions." Bill headed briskly up the avenue.
"Stay well." We watched him disappear into the crowd, then started searching for Charlie Morgan and the car.
Incidentally, the recipient of that phone call wasn't really named Patrick. Since there are laws about smuggling firearms in and out of countries, and we damned well were going to take along the Uzi, it seems only right to give him a pseudonym. His charter outfit, which works out of that hangar off to the side of the majors at Kennedy, keeps a Lear that can make the Caribbean in one hop if it's not too full. He even picks you up in a limo, his come-on for the carriage trade.
About ten minutes later we saw Charlie working the Rolls around all the fire engines double-parked on Third and waving for us.
"Good to see you again, Matt." He glanced back as we settled in. "Christ, you two look terrible. Were you up there?"
"Just left."
"Must have been a hell of a fire from the looks of it." He hit the gas and made a right turn. "Where to? Straight down Fifth to your place?"
"One quick stop first. Over on West Seventy-eighth."
"The West Side? In this traffic? Come on, Matt. I still haven't had lunch."
"Just cut through Central Park. Should be a snap."
While he and Tam waited outside the West Side "Free School, I went in to try and kidnap Amy. It wasn't easy. I finally explained to Ms. Winters that my daughter's Christmas vacation had merely been delayed a little this year, but better late than never. After some haggling, we struck a deal on homework. Then, in a limo piled high with school books, class projects, lunch boxes, and a black Israeli Uzi, we headed downtown.
"Dad, you've gone nuts." My only offspring was in heaven.
"Honey, we're going to snorkel for two weeks solid. Think you can stand the old man for that long?"
"Can we have a Christmas tree? You promised."
"I'll cut it myself."
"And a Christmas party too?"
"Might have to call it something else, but I suppose we can give it a try. If you keep up on the homework." I looked at her, failing as usual to understand the movements of her mind. "Sweetie, why do you want to throw a party? This is supposed to be a vacation."
"Dad, really. Don't you remember that neat boy from Sweden whose parents have that house across the bay? He was teaching me windsurfing last summer. He's in junior year now, but if he's there, we've got to have a party. Don't you understand?"
"Guess we'll have a party."
What can you do? Nobody said you're supposed to win them all.
Bad news, or maybe it was good news, travels with amazing speed in this day and age. The late edition of the Tuesday New York Post found its way to the Caribbean on an evening flight, and since it took us a while to get out of town, it actually reached the Virgin Islands shortly before we did. However, since we flew directly into St. Croix instead of the main island of St. Thomas, we missed the delivery.
As it happened, though, an old acquaintance was passing the house that night on a personal mission, and he was kind enough to drop off Rupert Murdoch's Tuesday contribution to journalism.
The time was around ten P.M. Amy was sound asleep, conked out from twilight windsurfing, and Tam and I were working on a pitcher of planter's punch by the pool when there came the sound of honking out front. I went in and unlocked the entry, then peeked out to see who it was. The red, white, and blue jeep belonged to none other than Artie Wilson, dressed to the nines.
"Walton, my man, you done gone and got yourself famous." He grinned with delight, then threw a rolled-up newspaper toward the door. "Tole you it'd be yo' ass."
"Artie, what in hell. Turn that thing off and come in for a drink. Somebody I want you to meet."
"Hey, late for a reception at that new place down the beach. Think all them hot New York divorcees jus' come down here for nothing but sunshine an' vitamin D? Gotta keep the tourists satisfied." He revved his engine and began backing out of the drive. "Tomorrow, maybe, Feds ain't nailed yo' honkie butt by then."
With which enigmatic pronouncement he sped into the humid night.
I picked up the bundle, then snapped on the yard lights and strolled back out where Tam was sitting, still wearing her pool robe. What was Artie talking about?
As I settled down beside her and unrolled the paper, staring back at us from the front page were two very familiar faces.
"Off one of my book jackets," she said. "I never much cared for it."
"Mine's from their photo morgue, during some takeover circus."
Guess we should have been keeping closer tabs on the news. Seems that Matsuo Noda, president of Dai Nippon, Int., had held a press conference mid-afternoon Tuesday to refute all the misinformation being spread by Senator Jack O'Donnell. As he claimed, it was actually two Americans, former employees of DNI, who had been responsible for Dai Nippon's secret hostile takeover of the U.S.'s largest corporations. He made this point to dispute Senator O'Donnell's assertion that they had been the ones who'd stopped it. (See photo, page 1.) He went on to apologize for what apparently had been a severe communications mix-up within DNI, which brought about this unauthorized action, and he was pleased to report he personally had taken steps to terminate the buy-up this very morning, as of 11:53 A.M.
Run that whopper by Jack's subcommittee, Noda-san.
There was more. Seems the body of an unidentified male—young, Caucasian, and badly burned—had been recovered by firemen on the eleventh floor of DNI's offices. Noda had no idea who this person was, perhaps a misfortunate prowler. . . .
"Matt, look!" She was pointing at a paragraph on the lower half of the page.
There'd been a second casualty, although not as serious. The well-known Japanese financial commentator Akira Mori had been borne, unconscious, from the premises. Acute smoke inhalation. As of press time she was in intensive care at Mt. Sinai Hospital.
"We saw her come out of the office. It was pretty smoky by then, but how could . . . ?"
The answer followed. Firemen reportedly had discovered her in the computer room near the mainframe's burned-out storage banks. Speculation was she had been attempting to save the hard disks, the vital DNI files.
"Mori wasn't trying to save anything." Tam tossed down the paper. "She wanted to make sure all the disks were destroyed.
To protect the Emperor from a scandal over Noda's sword hoax."
"Another victim for the Imperial sword." I looked up at the starry sky, a mosaic of silver and black as the Milky Way floated above us. The night air was symphonic with the sound of crickets. "How many more?"
Then she retrieved thePostand we finished the item. After Noda's prepared statement there'd been a Q&A—during which he reaffirmed his intention to use all available means to block Senator O'Donnell's subpoena of DNI's remaining records, an action he declared confiscatory and groundless. Privileged information, etc.
He did, however, manage to wrap things up on a forward- looking note. Today's unfortunate, indeed tragic, accidental fire should be understood as merely a momentary setback. Nothing that had happened would in any way diminish his program of capital infusion and open-market acquisition in America's high-tech sector. Wall Street need not worry; Senator O'Donnell's "harassment" notwithstanding, Dai Nippon's money was here to stay. We were now partners. His grand new alliance, Nipponica, would shape the world to come.
"That's what he thinks." She laughed. "Wait till he wakes up tomorrow and discovers he just donated all his high-tech acquisitions to their employees. Don't think that fits the big strategy. One thing, though, America's overpaid, golf-playing senior executives could have some wild and woolly board meetings ahead."
"Life's full of surprises." I pulled her over and slipped my arm around.
"And the biggest one for me, this week at least, has been you." She turned and kissed me softly on the mouth, then again. My heart skipped.
Whereupon she abruptly rose and dove headfirst into the pool. Without her suit.
Looked to be a second chance coming up this year, for us all.
Contemporary tales of technology and economics engage a moving target, which means they must necessarily include an element of forecasting. Inventing the world to come is always more an art than a science, and the results can never be precise. Trends, however, do have a way of continuing. Sometimes, in fact, you look into the crystal ball and hope what you see never happens. This fable is offered in that spirit.
Those who have critiqued this manuscript all or in part include agent, editors, and friends. Special thanks are due, in alphabetical order, to Virginia Barber, Susan and Norman Feinstein, Joanna Field, Linda Grey, Joyce Hawley, Fred Klein, and, perhaps most importantly, Gary Prideaux, who introduced this writer to the magic of Japan two decades ago. Others who were kind enough to offer suggestions include N. R. Kleinfield, Pamela McCorduck, Ellen Solomon, Anna Stern, Karen Sunde, Christopher Martin, Eric Allison, Susan Stoller, Michael Cavallo, Makiko and Kazuyoshi Morikawa, Jim Piper, Tim Richards, Paul Bove, Eric Bove, Charles Gordon, Janet Miller,DavidPalmer, Arthur Blatt, and Malcolm Bosse. If this story succeeds in any measure, it is because of them. Its faults are the author's alone.
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