"Great. So long, Dad. Have fun."I almost said "good-bye." Bad luck, I thought. So instead I said, "Take care."Shortly thereafter Matsuo Noda, Tam Richardson, and yours truly were headed over to New York Helicopter's midtown pad, one of Noda's bodyguards in the limo with us. The battle was drawn.Now as I looked down at the boroughs of New York gliding below, all those little strings of metallic beads lined up on the ribbons of asphalt, the backyards of New York's solid middle class glimmering with remnants of snow, I found myself wondering what Noda had planned for them.Another imponderable still nagged at me as well: what about Akira Mori? Tam reported that by the time she'd arrived at the DNI offices this morning our friend had vanished. Ditto her information-packed attache case. As quickly as the lady had come, she'd disappeared back to Tokyo. But not with Noda. She'd gone on her own terms. Was he now using his new Concorde to try and head her off. What had she been doing here? Just hand-delivering MITI's latest "guidance"?Maybe we were finally about to uncover everybody's real agenda.Again my mind went back to ken and kan, Miyamoto Musashi's famous discourse on mental attitude in The Way of the Warrior, which he calledheiho kokoro mochi no koto. What was merely appearances,ken, and what waskan, the global picture, the essence?Noda had temporarily gained the upper hand, but now I realized that was almost to be expected. After all, he was a swordsman with decades of experience. So much forken, my superficial observation. The real truth,kan, lay much deeper. And like all such truths it had to be elementary, elegantly simple.Which left only two possibilities. Either Matsuo Noda was merely an insane genius about to show us the inner workings of the massive organization he now controlled, or he planned to kill us.Or both.CHAPTER TWENTYDr. Kenji Asano gazed out the window of his office at the Institute, the last shafts of sun casting long shadows in the canyons below. It was late Tuesday afternoon, and gales of December wind tunneled around the skyscrapers of Tokyo, chilling the gray steel and glass. The blank computer screens reflected back his smooth, trim face, his glum eyes. Technology. It was divorcing man from all sensibility. What Kenji Asano found himself wanting at that moment was not high-tech but high-touch, to be seated on thetatamiof his Tokyo teahouse, smelling the fresh straw, gazing out over the manicured evergreen shrubs of his garden, the clumps of leafless black bamboo. He recalled again the tea ceremony in Kyoto and the sight of Tamara approaching down the stepping stones of the "dewy path." She was a rare American, one who understood the essence ofcha-no-yu—inner power shows itself in outer restraint.As he lit a Peace cigarette with a wooden match and continued to examine the cheerless skyline of Tokyo, a thought flickered past—Bodhidharma, the first Zen master, who had plucked away his eyelids to prevent sleep as he meditated. That reflection led naturally to ruminations on the master's disciple, Hui-ko, who satzazenfor days in the snows outside Shao-lin monastery, then finally severed his own arm and offered it to the master as testament of his devotion.Bushido, the code of the samurai. Who today would cut off an arm to prove determination? Or be Benkei at the Bridge, the servant who breaks the rules of society and cudgels his own master to protect their disguise and deceive their foes. That famous episode, he told himself, would be his model. Sometimesbushidorequired you to circumvent tradition and honor for the greater good.What was happening in Japan? These days many thoughtful Japanese were expressing open concern, even fear, over their country's rising nationalism. Although high officials still couched their flag-waving in coded language intended to elude foreign notice, many prominent voices were now suggesting "it's wrong to think prewar Japan was all bad." The latest school textbooks spoke glowingly of the country's Imperial traditions. Encouraged by this jingoism, in truth veiled racism, many superpatriots were beginning to emerge from obscurity. Now, with the Imperial sword as symbol, the Japanese right was openly on the march. Surely Noda had known it would happen, had counted on it.He recalled the line by Yeats, "And what rough beast, its hour come round at last . . ."The "beast," Kenji Asano feared, had arisen in Japan. And its monstrous head was none other than Matsuo Noda. Who could have suspected the dark side of Noda's grand design or the extent of his determination? Violence, money in the billions, and accomplices where they were least suspected. Perhaps even inside MITI.This last disturbing prospect had convinced Kenji Asano that the time for operating within the rules was past. He had already taken a first step, aided unwittingly by a bureaucrat of immense ambition within the ministry. His first counterploy against Noda had bought time—how much he didn't know— but the next move must be decisive.He glanced around his office, then at the MITI reports stacked high on his desk. Benkei at the Bridge. For Kenji Asano only one course was left. He would now have to use his own master, MITI, to destroy Matsuo Noda.His mind went back to the meeting at his MITI office Monday of the previous week. Although he was on temporary assignment at the Institute, he still checked in daily at the ministry. Filing into his office at nine-thirty sharp had been the three men whose "consensus" was crucial. The difficulty was, they must never know what he planned.Michio Watanabe, International Trade Policy Bureau,Trade Research Section: heavyset, early fifties, a professional bureaucrat with powerful eyes and a permanent expression of skepticism. He had been a close colleague of Noda's for decades.Tanzan Kitano, Industrial Policy Bureau, International Enterprises Section: gray hair tinged with silver, immaculate dresser, spoke five languages. He had been in MITI over twenty years and had maintained the same mistress for fifteen: a man respected for his long-range thinking.Hiromu Ikeda, Industrial Technology Agency: late thirties, thrived on expediency, doing the job no matter the consequences. Part of a hard new breed, he was Japan's future. And MlTI was his future.While the men moved toward the wide couch across from his desk, Kenji Asano opened with offhand pleasantries, directed mainly toward Watanabe, partly because he was eldest and partly to sound out his mind-state. Next he welcomed Kitano with a few inquiries concerning his wife and son, a transparent formality since he was known far and wide to despise them both. Finally he greeted Ikeda and indicated the meeting would be short, knowing the younger man liked to move directly to matters at hand and regarded the usual preliminaries as an old-fashioned waste of time.Agenda: The American companies Matsuo Noda was acquiring. A proposition had surfaced (in Japanese bureaucracies, all ideas are anonymous and thus devoid of repercussions) that certain MITI personnel be put on leave of absence to serve on the boards of those U.S. concerns. Given the heavy participation of Japanese monies in Noda's American program, perhaps a more formal monitoring mechanism would be helpful to head off potential anxiety in Tokyo's financial community.The idea, of course, was Kenji Asano's. He had first laid the groundwork with a few oblique hints to several of Dai Nippon's major institutional backers, particularly the Dai-Ichi Credit Corporation, Ltd. That move had borne fruit. Within days they had begun wondering aloud whether the ministry might wish to consider helping oversee Noda's American investments. So far, so good. Now MITI itself had to be convinced. This meeting would undoubtedly be the first of many, resulting eventually in a consensus. Would the ministry go along?Having set forth the topic, Kenji Asano surrendered the floor to Watanabe, the senior man present—and therefore the one whose views, in keeping with convention, would be listened to and applauded by everyone else in the room whether they agreed or not."In my judgment, the original objectives of Matsuo Noda and Dai Nippon are the most desirable means of maintaining the long-term security of Japan," Watanabe declared. "It is in our strategic interest that he be allowed to succeed. Which is why MITI should stay 'hands-off,' should limit its participation to an advisory capacity, nothing more. Anything further could well prove extremely counterproductive in our relations with the United States. We do not need more friction.""So deshoo, Watanabe-san." Kitano, the man second in seniority, nodded after a moment's pause. "I totally concur with the basic aspects of the viewpoint you have expressed." He was telling everybody he hadn't made up his mind."I also support fully Watanabe-san's insightful summary of the relevant issues." Ikeda spoke up, his honorifics far more polite than necessary, a signal. "Keredomo(however) . . . it might possibly be prudent to examine briefly the considerations advanced by those who differ with this wise assessment in order that we may counter their concerns more thoughtfully."That was it. Kenji Asano had a head count. Watanabe was against sending MITI personnel. Kitano was waffling. Hiromu Ikeda was foursquare and hell-bent in favor of the idea. He had just announced it to the room.Was Watanabe in league with Noda, willing to give him free rein? Was he one of Noda's operatives inside the ministry? Or was he merely advancing his own ideas, genuinely fearful an influx of MITI personnel into the U.S. could precipitate a severe diplomatic flap?On the other hand, why was Ikeda so in favor of having MITI move in on Noda? The answer to that was hardly a puzzle. MITI's young prince of ambition, Hiromu Ikeda, scented the possibility of grabbing a part of Matsuo Noda's new American empire for his own. Handled skillfully, it might well catapult him directly to vice minister inside a decade."Perhaps it would be useful to review once more the main elements of the situation." Kitano knew he had the middle ground and thus was offering to arbitrate. "The condition of America now is very troubling. The question is, how can we best aid them, and ourselves. We in Japan realize that a nation's true strength is ultimately not in armaments but in the health of its economy, its industry. Yet the Americans, by making themselves a military state, have paradoxically imperiled their real security. How long can we continue to rely on an ally so blind to the main threat to its own strategic well- being? Matsuo Noda is correct. Our very safety may soon be imperiled. Something must be done. The only question is how best to proceed.""So desu ne." Watanabe pressed, realizing he would have to force his point. "The Pentagon is, ironically, America's most insidious enemy. Japan's greatest benefit from America's defense umbrella has not been the billions we've saved on sterile arms; it has been the technical manpower we have free to support competitive industries. But the price has been the industrial decline of our foremost ally. This cannot, must not, be permitted to continue." He paused. "Matsuo Noda, a man I've known and respected for years, who guided this ministry to greatness, should be allowed to assist the Americans rebuild their civilian sector unhindered by us. If MITI involves itself at this time, the American government may well grow alarmed and step in to stop him. Then their industrial stagnation will merely accelerate.""So deshoo," Ikeda finally spoke. "I agree. Unfortunately, however, there are some who believe the task Noda-sama has undertaken cannot succeed without direct MITI assistance. Again it is a matter of our own security. The question has arisen concerning whether we should continue to rely on the Americans to rescue their industrial base unassisted by any formal direction. Of course I disagree with such pessimistic views, but some would say we ourselves must now step forward and assume global leadership in technology to prevent a vacuum from developing in the Free World. By taking charge of America's floundering high-tech sector, we could rescue it from continued mismanagement, while—incidentally—satisfying our own R&D needs in a way that is extremely cost- effective. However, this can only be achieved if we are in a position to provide hands-on guidance. Which means direct MITI involvement." He paused. "These opinions of course are not my own, merely ones I have heard voiced. I am told, though it is difficult to comprehend, that this viewpoint hasbeen entertained by Nakayama-sama of the Secretariat, and even discussed in his weekly conference with the Parliamentary Vice Minister."The hand of fate! Asano exulted. Hiromu Ikeda has already done my work for me. He's gone over everybody's head. He swallowed the idea like a carp snapping a hovering dragonfly, then went off and peddled it to the Vice Minister as though it were his own.A man to watch out for in the future, he thought. But a perfect ally at the moment.Watanabe said nothing. His ancient face was in shock. Everybody realized the meeting was over. It was clear Ikeda had trampled on consensus and seniority in order to further his own fortunes."Watanabe-san, I think we all agree your understanding of the situation is entirely proper," Kenji Asano said soothingly. "But solely in the interest of continued theoretical discussion at some later time, it might be prudent if all sections prepared a contingency list of staff, fluent in English, who would be suitable for reassignment to an American sector.""It is always wise to cover contingencies, Asano-san," Watanabe said dryly.None of them realized it, of course, but Hiromu Ikeda's ambition could well turn out to be the salvation of MITI itself. But for now, Asano mused, that was something none of them needed to know.Looking out the window at the freezing streets below, glimmering from headlights and neon, Kenji Asano told himself that a dangerous game lay ahead. Noda's first gambit had been countered, but there would be more. What he needed was a preemptive strike.He had made the plans for that strike, a play of pure, absolute genius. The catch was, Tamara would have to cooperate.With that thought he reached down and unlocked the top right-hand drawer of his metal desk, then drew out a large red and blue envelope. It was air express from a university address in California. As he fingered the stripes along its side, he recalled how it had arrived here at his office at The Institute for New Generation Computer Technology while he'd been in Kyoto with Tamara.Finally he opened it again and slipped out the contents.Inside was a confidential memo on the old Nippon, Inc. letterhead, unsigned but obviously authored by Matsuo Noda, a top-security document that had been clocked in at a document station at Tsukuba Science City. How had Allan Stern stumbled onto this? Had he stolen it? Picked it up by accident? It was in Japanese, so how could he have sensed its real import?American ingenuity, he told himself, defied all understanding. The memo, which outlined the timetable for a massive scenario, had been the first step of a long path of discovery leading Kenji Asano to indisputable proof of Matsuo Noda's real objective. Allan Stern must have had this translated or somehow intuitively guessed Noda's plan. And then . . . Allan Stem had tried to warn MITI. Why? Out of past regard for Dr. Yoshida, former head of the Institute and a close friend?Stern reportedly had vanished the same day this envelope was postmarked. Noda had acted, but not swiftly enough.Who at MITI had been the original recipient of this memo? Maybe, he thought, it no longer mattered. There was only one real way to stop Dai Nippon. . . .At that moment his phone buzzed. As he punched the button, his flustered secretary announced that an in-flight call was waiting, channeled through MITI's satellite security link. It was the president of Dai Nippon, International.CHAPTER TWENTY-ONETsukuba Science City can be awe-inspiring or a specter, depending on how you choose to look at it. The time was Wednesday morning, and Tam and I were viewing the place through the tinted windows of Matsuo Noda's personal DNI limo, the black Nissan she knew so well. From the vantage of an elevated freeway packed with rows of sleek Hondas and Toyotas sparkling in the cold December sunshine, we could see the silhouettes of cluster after cluster of modernistic concrete towers, an urban complex of a hundred and fifty thousand souls rising above what was, only a few short years ago, mostly farms. Be that as it may, take my word for it that nobody's growing radishes there today. Science City, nestled in the foothills of Mt. Tsukuba some fifty kilometers northeast of downtown Tokyo, represents a government investment, including the industrial park once the site of Expo '85, of over thirty billion dollars.Tsukuba is holy ground, the place of heroes, where kamikazes once trained for their suicide missions against the American fleet. Now it is one of the largest research centers in the world, with almost ten thousand scientists and fifty separate laboratories and scientific institutes. As we neared the first complex, I tried to make sense of all the Dali-esque curved buildings that housed Japan's new brain trust. From the outside you can tell something is going on, but it seems secretive and proprietary. It is. The thing I had to keep reminding myself, though, was that none of this was for military boondoggles. It was aimed dead-on at industrial technology. E.g., there's research here on high-energy lasers all right, but they're not intended for zapping some hypothetical Soviet satellite; they're part of the world's largest laser-radar telescope, which can project beams out more than thirty miles to analyze air quality. In short, the work here was applications-oriented, practical, and—get a firm grip on your wallet— commercial.Together with Noda and his bodyguard/chauffeur we were headed for the Electrotechnical Institute, where he was about to give us our first glimpse of Japan's new high-tech empire. That lab just so happened to be the place where heavy work was underway on applications of the artificial intelligence effort of Kenji Asano's Fifth Generation shop. It was merely the first stop, however, in an odyssey Noda claimed would take us through the hidden heart of Japan's industrial future.Noda reported he had spoken with Kenji Asano, who was unfortunately tied up in meetings and couldn't join us until tomorrow. Thus Tam had not yet had her chance to hear his account of MITI's sudden new interest in Dai Nippon's program. All the same, Noda claimed to welcome Ken's arrival."Whatever concerns you may have, I'm sure he will be more than happy to address them," declared the president of Dai Nippon.Tam had tried on her own to reach Ken at his office, without success. Maybe, I thought to myself, he just didn't want to talk. In any case that quandary remained unresolved.The way I saw the situation, though, we had enough to deal with merely getting through today. Noda's game was no longer a game. He was going to take us to the top of the mountain, show us the other side, and then . . . what? Whatever it was, that part would have to be handled in due time. For now his intentions seemed to be to drive home a singular point: if you think Dai Nippon has been playing hardball with money, wait till you see Japan's real action. He was going to lay bare the empire, the awesome machine he now had at his command. The payoff of Tsukuba, he explained, was intended to be nothing less than total technological supremacy.The limo was slowing to a stop in front of an oddly shaped concrete building, brand-new, that covered several acres with cones and hexagons and various geometries. We'd arrived."This is the Electrotechnical Institute, research center for Japan's Advanced Robot Technology Project." He pointed. The laboratory appeared to be somebody's idea of what architecture would be in the twenty-first century, a sort of Japanese spaceship splattered across a vast acreage. "The work underway here and over at the Mechanical Engineering lab is intended to coordinate all government and private research on industrial robots."He stepped out and motioned for us to join him. Our top- secret tour had begun. As we walked toward the main entryway, he delivered an opening summary."Here we have allocated twenty billion yen, about a hundred and fifty million dollars, for an eight-year research program to perfect a range of industrial robots." He continued while we walked past the small gray metallic sign, in both Japanese and English, that identified the Institute. "It is being closely coordinated with the spin-offs of the Fifth Generation AI work."I noticed that no guards were posted, though the metal doors were tightly sealed. Noda didn't bother to take out a key as he proceeded. "The Advanced Robot Technology Project coordinates the research of over twenty corporations as well as R&D at various universities, and this lab is where we integrate all the results of that work.""You mean different parts or robots are being created at separate research operations, then brought together here?" I probably shouldn't have been surprised by the tight, nationwide coordination. Typical Japan."Precisely. Robots have a multiplicity of elements. There are manipulators, the mechanical versions of our hands; then there are the senses of vision and touch; and finally there is movement, locomotion. Each of these is being developed individually, then combined here. For example, if a robot is to understand voice commands—in effect making its operator a programmer—then it must incorporate the speech recognition work of the Fifth Generation Project, which will supply the eyes, the ears, the brain."Maybe that's where Asano comes in, I thought. Could it be he's the point man here for artificial intelligence, on board to oversee creating the computerized brains for all these babies. Was he yet another DNI operative, witting or unwitting, just as Tam and I had been?Noda's lecture was still underway. "The first generation of robots does things by rote, the same motion repeated dumbly over and over again. What we call the second generation are those with crude sensing abilities, perhaps touch pads or video, though they are still stationary." He placed his hand over a small screen by the door. A light flashed under his palm-—presumably allowing a computer somewhere to analyze his handprint—and a second later the door slid open. Then he continued, "The goal of the work here is a third-generation robot. You might almost call it a functional 'android,' since it will be able to move, see, and think much as we do. Whether it will actually look like a human is another matter, but that's not necessarily even a useful objective."Intelligent monsters in silicon and steel, I found myself thinking. All our fantasies, or nightmares, come to life.I didn't have to look far to see that they were already in the womb. We were entering the main laboratory floor now, surrounded by what seemed a Martian landscape of mechanical creatures. The place was bustling, yet spotless as a hospital ward. Noda acknowledged the deep bows of several of the shirt-sleeved staff, then continued."Although visitors are not normally permitted in the sensitive areas here, I have arranged total-access priority for you both. I consider you among the few Americans today who can understand the strategic significance of this program."If Matsuo Noda was really saying that he intended to give us a sobering dose of Japan's impending high-tech clout, he was off to a bang-up start.Then he turned and greeted a short, white-uniformed man. "Allow me to introduce Dr. Noburu Matsugami, who is senior staff specialist for the program here. Dr. Matsugami will be your guide today."Matsugami was close to fifty and balding, with short- cropped hair that seemed to stand out on the sides of his head like the bristles of a metal brush. He was bowing to Noda every other second, as though he'd just been summoned by God. He attempted a smile, then greeted us in Japanese, followed by accented English.I surveyed the floor—steel and aluminum and computers— feeling as if I could have been on another planet. Tam, strangely, had said scarcely a word the whole time. She probably knew about a lot of this, but surely not the proprietary, advanced devices.Noda's glimpse of Japan's industrial "Manhattan Project" was one of the most memorable experiences of my life. Although I suspect the devices he let Matsugami show us were just the toys, they still were enough to leave no doubt where things were headed.Without going into the classified details, let me attempt to describe a few of the items I still remember. I was particularly impressed by the Waseda University/Hitachi walking robot WHL-II, which uses advanced machine technology and computer control to move just as a human does, two-legged style. Its hydraulic steel joints and carbon-fiber muscles, together with its computerized foot sensors, give it walking skills better than most young humans'. Its brain of course is a microprocessor, programmed to let it walk in different styles, just as we do. Other mobile robots had four legs, even six—such as the Titan III, which we saw climb up a set of stairs like a metallic sci-fi spider.As for robot hands, the most advanced also were from Hitachi's mechanical engineering research lab. Unlike most robot grippers, little more than glorified vises, this one had three fingers (which Matsugami claimed were more agile than a version at MIT) whose "muscles" were a heat-sensitive metal (invented in the U.S.) that would contract when an electric current passed through.Vision research was also well advanced. A Matsushita robot equipped with a computerized "eye" was able to analyze the lines and shadows of a human face and then draw a black-and- white sketch like a sidewalk artist. Even more amazing, a robot with a TV-camera eye—developed jointly by Waseda University and Sumitomo Electric—could read sheet music and play it on a keyboard using mechanical fingers. This android pianist employed recent advances in artificial intelligence to determine the best fingering for each phrase and even took requests for tunes in spoken Japanese. Play it again, HAL. Other robots with "voice recognition" capability allowed a human operator simply to sit in one spot and command the mobile machine where to go and what to do.At one point Tam asked Matsugami for a candid opinion on how far along he thought the Advanced Robot-Technology Program had progressed. Well, he replied, sucking in his breath pensively, the manual dexterity problem was about licked: the robot arms now being perfected could pick up anything and move it anywhere. Vision and programmable intelligence were harder, but he felt their research was getting close. Already he had robots that could analyze and interpret 3-D objects and scenes, enabling them to maneuver around a factory floor and make decisions of almost human complexity. The ultimate objective was factory-wide systems for Computer-Integrated Manufacturing (CIM) that would allow every operation of a company, from design to engineering to manufacturing, to be controlled by computer via a single data base. It was cheap, and it elevated quality control to a hundred percent. No doubt about it, he said, as Japan moved to automate manufacturing and get on with an information- industry future, these smart robots would be their secret weapon.The Institute's mechanical menagerie, I realized, was what the next century was going to look like. Except it was here now. As Matsugami took us through lab after lab, it became clear that the Japanese "third-generation" functionoid robot was all but a reality.Noda's message was clear. Already Japan was spending twice as much on new manufacturing technology as America was. They led the world in robotics and that lead was growing. With the coming of that third generation—robots that couldsee, move, and think—world industrial leadership would be up for grabs. These were the stakes Japan was betting on the twenty-first century. Anybody who planned to play against them better have something on the table too.At the end of the tour as dusk was beginning to settle in, Noda reappeared and escorted us back to the limo. And that's when he laid it out."Dr. Richardson, what you and Mr. Walton have just seen is merely a glimpse of the real peril to America's future." He was closing the door of the car. "There is much, much more . . . projects such as the rapid commercialization of superconductivity. America's world supremacy is at a crossroads.""Why are you showing us this?" Tam was still troubled by the same question that was eating at me."Very simple, really. Thus far we have, together, attempted to address some of the more egregious ineptitudes in America's corporate management. Our success in that, if I may say, has already been substantial. However, the best-managed organization cannot flourish without the tools required to take it the next step. That translates as technology." He paused, then looked at us both. "Do you understand what I'm saying?""Japan now has the technology, just as it has the money," Tam answered."You are correct. Thus far Dai Nippon has merely provided a conduit to infuse capital into the American industrial scene. That was the easy part. The task remaining will be much more difficult." He looked at us. "Difficult because, for this, America must share in return.""You want to make a deal, I take it." I finally spoke. Funny, but I thought I sounded a little like Faust beginning negotiations with the devil.He smiled. "That is a blunt way of describing what I am about to suggest, Mr. Walton, but it does capture the spirit of my proposal. America excels in basic research, Japan in applied research, in engineering. The time has come to join forces.""How?""As you have seen, the monetary resources at Dai Nippon's disposal make it possible for us to wield significant influence." He smiled. "Japanese capital has been brought to America; Japanese technology can be brought as well.""At a price.""At a price, yes. But a modest one really." He smiled again, then buzzed for his driver to start the car. "Let me put it like this. If you choose to proceed with me in the next step of Dai Nippon's program, I will arrange for everything you have seen today to be my gift to America. All I ask from you both is complete cooperation in the days ahead. Together we can forge an informal alliance between Japan and America that could alter the course of world history. But it must be done in an atmosphere of complete trust."Tam was astonished. "You'd make this manufacturing technology available to American industry? Why?""As part of a quid pro quo, Dr. Richardson. It's quite simple. In return I would expect complete access to the R&D in the firms Dai Nippon has acquired." He stared back through his rimless glasses. "Which, I gather, is a notion you find a trifle unsettling."You bastard, I thought. You did have my phone tapped. How else could you have known what she was thinking?She shot me a telling glance. "How does all this fit in with the new MITI guidance we're suddenly getting?""That is a separate matter, Dr. Richardson, which we will address in due course. What I am concerned with now is something else entirely—the final step in restoring America to economic health. The first requirement was long-term capital and better management, which Dai Nippon has now begun to provide. The next is technology, a small foretaste of which I have shown you today."Was this, I wondered, the big picture, thekanwe'd been trying to get a handle on?"What I'm proposing," Noda continued, "is that together we become partners in the creation of a massive Japanese- American consortium. Perhaps we could call it Nipponica.""Nipponica?" She kept her tone even."The name has an interesting ring to it, does it not? As I envision the organization, you would be its American CEO." He paused. "I would chair the board." Then he turned to me. "And you, Mr. Walton, could be invaluable as chief corporate counsel."The man had gone totally mad. Or had he?"I still don't understand how this venture could be brought together. You'd be dealing with hundreds of companies, a worldwide management headache.""Mr. Walton, what other choice do we have? Given the precipitous decline of America's global leadership, together with Japan's economic and technological rise, there can be only two possible outcomes of the inevitable direction affairs are headed: bankruptcy for us both, or war. The time has come for risk-taking, for a belief in the human spirit. We each need the other more than our political leaders can allow themselves to admit, and thus steps must be taken outside normal diplomatic channels to bring us closer together." He continued, in perfect form, "Both America and Japan would benefit from a commingling of our industry and research. We would learn from each other, find strength in unity, realize a common perspective on global concerns. Our economies would be joined, our peoples united. Instead of friction and the saber rattling of trade disputes, we would have the harmony of a single enterprise.""Who exactly is going to finance and operate this undertaking?" I was listening to him describe his planned-for Utopia with increasing skepticism. But he had already rocked America, and Japan, to the core. Not a man to underestimate."As you might suppose, Dai Nippon would, by virtue of its present situation, be ideally suited to lay the groundwork." He glanced out the tinted windows. "Afterward the political processes of both countries would naturally have no choice but to follow our lead, ratifying—as they always do—conditions that have already become afait accompli."It had all the easy resonance of a grand historical venture, except . . . except what if this was stillken, superficialities, notkan, the real truth?"Before we go any further, I think Dr. Richardson and I should talk this over." I looked up to see the Tsukuba Hotel, where we were scheduled to stay overnight. Noda had made other accommodations for himself, saying he also needed to drop by the Metallurgy Lab and check to see how work was going on the sword. My scheduled viewing was to be tomorrow."I agree." Tam looked at me sharply. "We can discuss this more in the morning.""As you wish." The limo was pulling to a stop. "Tomorrow should be an interesting day for you both. We can continue our discussions then." He smiled. "However, be aware that time is of the essence."With that parting shot, the long black Nissan sped away."Tam, let's see if this place has a bar. I need a drink.""Double." She was carrying the small overnight bag Noda's New York staff had handed her as we left. I had one too, just a shirt and essentials.The hotel saloon was modernistic, vinyl, and leaned heavily toward Japanese beer and Suntory whiskey. By now some middle-level executives were getting off work at the labs and dropping in to start their usual evening round of drinking, but at this early hour it was still sparsely occupied.We headed for a comer table and ordered a couple of draft Kirin. After the beers arrived, we got down to brass tacks.What the hell was Noda's real agenda?Two heads, so the saying goes, are better than one. I don't know, could be they're worse. Because as Tam and I sat there, Noda's offer to head up some kind of new world consortium dangling before us, what our two heads came up with was the scariest thing that'd ever crossed my path.Maybe it was the thought of America's working stiffs, whose jobs Noda supposedly was so determined to save. Trouble was, I didn't buy that in the slightest anymore. So what made any sense?Simple. Why not the most obvious answer of all? Noda wasn't doing this for them. Or for Japan. That wasn't his game. Noda was planning this grand design for Noda."Tam." I sipped at my beer. "Did you believe a word of what he said?""Of course not. At least not the United Nations speech. It's pure hogwash.""Totally agree. But he's about to do something big, I'm convinced.""Got any ideas."Luckily the place was getting noisier now, so nobody could have been listening even if they'd tried. Which was the very reason I wanted to talk in the bar and not in either of our rooms. Who knew the reach of Noda's electronic ears?"Not really. But what if we stepped back a second and tried looking at this latest move from a longer view. Maybe we've been tangled up in the trees, missing the forest.""We've seen plenty of forest lately.""But what if it's the wrong one? Let's try theteki ni naru to iu kotostrategy, become the enemy. Pretend for a minute we're Noda, a guy who's got it all—money, clout, everything. So whydoes he all of a sudden want to come across the Pacific and buy himself a load of industrial headaches, then hand them Japan's technology?""It's MITI somehow. I'm convinced that's the key. Which is why I'm going to nail Ken.""Well, let's not jump to conclusions. I'm wondering. What if Dai Nippon is taking over American industry not because it's strategic to MITI as those memos we found would lead us to think. What if the reason is because it's strategic to Noda?""But why?""What if his relationship to that ministry is something totally different from what it seems?""Well, if MITI's not behind the buy-ups, then who're they for?"I sat a minute, again trying to think like Noda. "What if this scenario is actually aimed at . . . what if it's a global power play?"She looked at me skeptically. "I don't get it.""Okay, granted it sounds crazy, but let's chase that for a minute. I think we agree this whole scenario is not what he wants it to seem. So what are some of the other things in all this that aren't what they appear to be? Does anything dovetail?" I sat musing a second, searching for an opening. "What are some of the twists about Japan that're obviously misleading?""Well, acceptance ofgaijin, for one. It goes only so far, then stops like a brick wall." She was obviously speaking from personal experience."Maybe that's because they've always been isolated. Some things never change," I pondered aloud. "Which is probably the secret of their success. Take the ruling clique. Sure, Japan is a democracy, but is it really? Not the way we understand the word. What they actually have, after you get past all the slogans, is just a retread of the old system. The truth is it's still run as it was a thousand years ago. By the old families, the old money. Elections never decide issues. They're handled by the power structure. Half the seats in the Diet are practically hereditary, going back generations in the same family. There's only one real political party. The ministries are fiefdoms. I mean, the goddam country is still feudal. They don't even have a word for democracy. They had to borrow it.Demokurasu.""Well, Japan's a pragmatic place. The old ways work. Remember thezaibatsu, those industrial conglomerates that ran the war machine? MacArthur dismantled them, but they reappeared almost as soon as he left.""Right, the power structure restored those right away. The zaibatsu are back and chewing up world commerce. But thedemokurasueyewash is still around. The job's not finished."She stared around the room. "Matt, I don't like where I think you're headed.""I agree it's sick, but let's push it a little more. What is it about Japan that's made it such a dynamo the last couple of decades?""Hard work, organization, drive.""Exactly. But where did that come from?""They had to have it. Over the centuries most Japanese were dirt poor. They had to hustle just to survive. Matthew, Japan is a collectivist society driven by capitalism, an idea so alien to the West nobody can even see it.""Perfect description. Only problem is, all thisdemokurasuis sooner or later going to start cutting away the very thing that's made Japan so successful—a country powered by obedient, collective action and glued together by hierarchy and tradition.""You're saying Noda wants to turn back the clock?""Don't know. But what if these industrialists, thesezaibatsuhonchos, are fed up with having to deal with all the cumbersomedemokurasumachinery. And they're especially fed up with a certain ministry making them jump the hoop. Tam, what if Noda's real agenda is to go to America and buy himself a gun to hold to MITI's head.""You don't think he's buying America's companies to help MITI?" She looked unconvinced."If I had money to bet, I'd almost be willing to put it on the possibility he's buying leverage to use against MITI and through them the whole inefficient government setup. How come MITI's suddenly sending staff over to look in on Noda's play? Could it be somebody there's figured out what he's up to and they want to head him off? They realize Matsuo Noda is the only man on the planet who could conceivably beat MITI at its own game? Bring it to its knees? First he acquired control of half the capital in Japan, then he came to the U.S. and started grabbing up all the R&D that'll be competing with MITI through the end of the century. When he's got it, he'll have a power base to match theirs. He's set to call the new tune.""Which is?""Who knows? But try this for an agenda: time to cut the crap, Noda's thinking, get rid of all the clumsy Western-styledemokurasucharade, tighten up, lean and mean. Go back to the only system that's ever really clicked for Japan. Imperial rule. Make the 'Land of the Gods' sacred and invincible.""This is getting wild." She lowered her voice. "But maybe . . . maybe you could be right. He just happens to locate the Imperial sword, and suddenly the emperor is resurrected from a discredited figurehead back to a symbol of Japan's greatness.""Here comes that old-time religion. Everybody goes traditional, right on cue, and the nutty Japan Firsters are thriving again, just like the thirties.""Good Lord.""Doesn't it all fit somehow? Matsuo Noda started off by creating this shadow outfit, Dai Nippon, in order to get his hands on all his countrymen's money. Now the next step will be to start phasing out thedemokurasufrills and the powerless prime minister and the MITI bureaucrats and turning the place into a kick-ass machine again. Look out world.""One small problem. The emperor can't rule Japan. Not really. He's a living god. Which means . . .""See? That difficulty's nothing new. For a thousand years the emperor's had no real clout anyway. The nitty-gritty of running Japan was always the job of his stand-in."There was a long pause. We both avoided speaking the word, but there it was. Finally she leaned back and closed her eyes, her voice barely audible above the din of the bar."Shogun."
"Great. So long, Dad. Have fun."
I almost said "good-bye." Bad luck, I thought. So instead I said, "Take care."
Shortly thereafter Matsuo Noda, Tam Richardson, and yours truly were headed over to New York Helicopter's midtown pad, one of Noda's bodyguards in the limo with us. The battle was drawn.
Now as I looked down at the boroughs of New York gliding below, all those little strings of metallic beads lined up on the ribbons of asphalt, the backyards of New York's solid middle class glimmering with remnants of snow, I found myself wondering what Noda had planned for them.
Another imponderable still nagged at me as well: what about Akira Mori? Tam reported that by the time she'd arrived at the DNI offices this morning our friend had vanished. Ditto her information-packed attache case. As quickly as the lady had come, she'd disappeared back to Tokyo. But not with Noda. She'd gone on her own terms. Was he now using his new Concorde to try and head her off. What had she been doing here? Just hand-delivering MITI's latest "guidance"?
Maybe we were finally about to uncover everybody's real agenda.
Again my mind went back to ken and kan, Miyamoto Musashi's famous discourse on mental attitude in The Way of the Warrior, which he calledheiho kokoro mochi no koto. What was merely appearances,ken, and what waskan, the global picture, the essence?
Noda had temporarily gained the upper hand, but now I realized that was almost to be expected. After all, he was a swordsman with decades of experience. So much forken, my superficial observation. The real truth,kan, lay much deeper. And like all such truths it had to be elementary, elegantly simple.
Which left only two possibilities. Either Matsuo Noda was merely an insane genius about to show us the inner workings of the massive organization he now controlled, or he planned to kill us.
Or both.
Dr. Kenji Asano gazed out the window of his office at the Institute, the last shafts of sun casting long shadows in the canyons below. It was late Tuesday afternoon, and gales of December wind tunneled around the skyscrapers of Tokyo, chilling the gray steel and glass. The blank computer screens reflected back his smooth, trim face, his glum eyes. Technology. It was divorcing man from all sensibility. What Kenji Asano found himself wanting at that moment was not high-tech but high-touch, to be seated on thetatamiof his Tokyo teahouse, smelling the fresh straw, gazing out over the manicured evergreen shrubs of his garden, the clumps of leafless black bamboo. He recalled again the tea ceremony in Kyoto and the sight of Tamara approaching down the stepping stones of the "dewy path." She was a rare American, one who understood the essence ofcha-no-yu—inner power shows itself in outer restraint.
As he lit a Peace cigarette with a wooden match and continued to examine the cheerless skyline of Tokyo, a thought flickered past—Bodhidharma, the first Zen master, who had plucked away his eyelids to prevent sleep as he meditated. That reflection led naturally to ruminations on the master's disciple, Hui-ko, who satzazenfor days in the snows outside Shao-lin monastery, then finally severed his own arm and offered it to the master as testament of his devotion.
Bushido, the code of the samurai. Who today would cut off an arm to prove determination? Or be Benkei at the Bridge, the servant who breaks the rules of society and cudgels his own master to protect their disguise and deceive their foes. That famous episode, he told himself, would be his model. Sometimesbushidorequired you to circumvent tradition and honor for the greater good.
What was happening in Japan? These days many thoughtful Japanese were expressing open concern, even fear, over their country's rising nationalism. Although high officials still couched their flag-waving in coded language intended to elude foreign notice, many prominent voices were now suggesting "it's wrong to think prewar Japan was all bad." The latest school textbooks spoke glowingly of the country's Imperial traditions. Encouraged by this jingoism, in truth veiled racism, many superpatriots were beginning to emerge from obscurity. Now, with the Imperial sword as symbol, the Japanese right was openly on the march. Surely Noda had known it would happen, had counted on it.
He recalled the line by Yeats, "And what rough beast, its hour come round at last . . ."
The "beast," Kenji Asano feared, had arisen in Japan. And its monstrous head was none other than Matsuo Noda. Who could have suspected the dark side of Noda's grand design or the extent of his determination? Violence, money in the billions, and accomplices where they were least suspected. Perhaps even inside MITI.
This last disturbing prospect had convinced Kenji Asano that the time for operating within the rules was past. He had already taken a first step, aided unwittingly by a bureaucrat of immense ambition within the ministry. His first counterploy against Noda had bought time—how much he didn't know— but the next move must be decisive.
He glanced around his office, then at the MITI reports stacked high on his desk. Benkei at the Bridge. For Kenji Asano only one course was left. He would now have to use his own master, MITI, to destroy Matsuo Noda.
His mind went back to the meeting at his MITI office Monday of the previous week. Although he was on temporary assignment at the Institute, he still checked in daily at the ministry. Filing into his office at nine-thirty sharp had been the three men whose "consensus" was crucial. The difficulty was, they must never know what he planned.
Michio Watanabe, International Trade Policy Bureau,
Trade Research Section: heavyset, early fifties, a professional bureaucrat with powerful eyes and a permanent expression of skepticism. He had been a close colleague of Noda's for decades.
Tanzan Kitano, Industrial Policy Bureau, International Enterprises Section: gray hair tinged with silver, immaculate dresser, spoke five languages. He had been in MITI over twenty years and had maintained the same mistress for fifteen: a man respected for his long-range thinking.
Hiromu Ikeda, Industrial Technology Agency: late thirties, thrived on expediency, doing the job no matter the consequences. Part of a hard new breed, he was Japan's future. And MlTI was his future.
While the men moved toward the wide couch across from his desk, Kenji Asano opened with offhand pleasantries, directed mainly toward Watanabe, partly because he was eldest and partly to sound out his mind-state. Next he welcomed Kitano with a few inquiries concerning his wife and son, a transparent formality since he was known far and wide to despise them both. Finally he greeted Ikeda and indicated the meeting would be short, knowing the younger man liked to move directly to matters at hand and regarded the usual preliminaries as an old-fashioned waste of time.
Agenda: The American companies Matsuo Noda was acquiring. A proposition had surfaced (in Japanese bureaucracies, all ideas are anonymous and thus devoid of repercussions) that certain MITI personnel be put on leave of absence to serve on the boards of those U.S. concerns. Given the heavy participation of Japanese monies in Noda's American program, perhaps a more formal monitoring mechanism would be helpful to head off potential anxiety in Tokyo's financial community.
The idea, of course, was Kenji Asano's. He had first laid the groundwork with a few oblique hints to several of Dai Nippon's major institutional backers, particularly the Dai-Ichi Credit Corporation, Ltd. That move had borne fruit. Within days they had begun wondering aloud whether the ministry might wish to consider helping oversee Noda's American investments. So far, so good. Now MITI itself had to be convinced. This meeting would undoubtedly be the first of many, resulting eventually in a consensus. Would the ministry go along?
Having set forth the topic, Kenji Asano surrendered the floor to Watanabe, the senior man present—and therefore the one whose views, in keeping with convention, would be listened to and applauded by everyone else in the room whether they agreed or not.
"In my judgment, the original objectives of Matsuo Noda and Dai Nippon are the most desirable means of maintaining the long-term security of Japan," Watanabe declared. "It is in our strategic interest that he be allowed to succeed. Which is why MITI should stay 'hands-off,' should limit its participation to an advisory capacity, nothing more. Anything further could well prove extremely counterproductive in our relations with the United States. We do not need more friction."
"So deshoo, Watanabe-san." Kitano, the man second in seniority, nodded after a moment's pause. "I totally concur with the basic aspects of the viewpoint you have expressed." He was telling everybody he hadn't made up his mind.
"I also support fully Watanabe-san's insightful summary of the relevant issues." Ikeda spoke up, his honorifics far more polite than necessary, a signal. "Keredomo(however) . . . it might possibly be prudent to examine briefly the considerations advanced by those who differ with this wise assessment in order that we may counter their concerns more thoughtfully."
That was it. Kenji Asano had a head count. Watanabe was against sending MITI personnel. Kitano was waffling. Hiromu Ikeda was foursquare and hell-bent in favor of the idea. He had just announced it to the room.
Was Watanabe in league with Noda, willing to give him free rein? Was he one of Noda's operatives inside the ministry? Or was he merely advancing his own ideas, genuinely fearful an influx of MITI personnel into the U.S. could precipitate a severe diplomatic flap?
On the other hand, why was Ikeda so in favor of having MITI move in on Noda? The answer to that was hardly a puzzle. MITI's young prince of ambition, Hiromu Ikeda, scented the possibility of grabbing a part of Matsuo Noda's new American empire for his own. Handled skillfully, it might well catapult him directly to vice minister inside a decade.
"Perhaps it would be useful to review once more the main elements of the situation." Kitano knew he had the middle ground and thus was offering to arbitrate. "The condition of America now is very troubling. The question is, how can we best aid them, and ourselves. We in Japan realize that a nation's true strength is ultimately not in armaments but in the health of its economy, its industry. Yet the Americans, by making themselves a military state, have paradoxically imperiled their real security. How long can we continue to rely on an ally so blind to the main threat to its own strategic well- being? Matsuo Noda is correct. Our very safety may soon be imperiled. Something must be done. The only question is how best to proceed."
"So desu ne." Watanabe pressed, realizing he would have to force his point. "The Pentagon is, ironically, America's most insidious enemy. Japan's greatest benefit from America's defense umbrella has not been the billions we've saved on sterile arms; it has been the technical manpower we have free to support competitive industries. But the price has been the industrial decline of our foremost ally. This cannot, must not, be permitted to continue." He paused. "Matsuo Noda, a man I've known and respected for years, who guided this ministry to greatness, should be allowed to assist the Americans rebuild their civilian sector unhindered by us. If MITI involves itself at this time, the American government may well grow alarmed and step in to stop him. Then their industrial stagnation will merely accelerate."
"So deshoo," Ikeda finally spoke. "I agree. Unfortunately, however, there are some who believe the task Noda-sama has undertaken cannot succeed without direct MITI assistance. Again it is a matter of our own security. The question has arisen concerning whether we should continue to rely on the Americans to rescue their industrial base unassisted by any formal direction. Of course I disagree with such pessimistic views, but some would say we ourselves must now step forward and assume global leadership in technology to prevent a vacuum from developing in the Free World. By taking charge of America's floundering high-tech sector, we could rescue it from continued mismanagement, while—incidentally—satisfying our own R&D needs in a way that is extremely cost- effective. However, this can only be achieved if we are in a position to provide hands-on guidance. Which means direct MITI involvement." He paused. "These opinions of course are not my own, merely ones I have heard voiced. I am told, though it is difficult to comprehend, that this viewpoint has
been entertained by Nakayama-sama of the Secretariat, and even discussed in his weekly conference with the Parliamentary Vice Minister."
The hand of fate! Asano exulted. Hiromu Ikeda has already done my work for me. He's gone over everybody's head. He swallowed the idea like a carp snapping a hovering dragonfly, then went off and peddled it to the Vice Minister as though it were his own.
A man to watch out for in the future, he thought. But a perfect ally at the moment.
Watanabe said nothing. His ancient face was in shock. Everybody realized the meeting was over. It was clear Ikeda had trampled on consensus and seniority in order to further his own fortunes.
"Watanabe-san, I think we all agree your understanding of the situation is entirely proper," Kenji Asano said soothingly. "But solely in the interest of continued theoretical discussion at some later time, it might be prudent if all sections prepared a contingency list of staff, fluent in English, who would be suitable for reassignment to an American sector."
"It is always wise to cover contingencies, Asano-san," Watanabe said dryly.
None of them realized it, of course, but Hiromu Ikeda's ambition could well turn out to be the salvation of MITI itself. But for now, Asano mused, that was something none of them needed to know.
Looking out the window at the freezing streets below, glimmering from headlights and neon, Kenji Asano told himself that a dangerous game lay ahead. Noda's first gambit had been countered, but there would be more. What he needed was a preemptive strike.
He had made the plans for that strike, a play of pure, absolute genius. The catch was, Tamara would have to cooperate.
With that thought he reached down and unlocked the top right-hand drawer of his metal desk, then drew out a large red and blue envelope. It was air express from a university address in California. As he fingered the stripes along its side, he recalled how it had arrived here at his office at The Institute for New Generation Computer Technology while he'd been in Kyoto with Tamara.
Finally he opened it again and slipped out the contents.
Inside was a confidential memo on the old Nippon, Inc. letterhead, unsigned but obviously authored by Matsuo Noda, a top-security document that had been clocked in at a document station at Tsukuba Science City. How had Allan Stern stumbled onto this? Had he stolen it? Picked it up by accident? It was in Japanese, so how could he have sensed its real import?
American ingenuity, he told himself, defied all understanding. The memo, which outlined the timetable for a massive scenario, had been the first step of a long path of discovery leading Kenji Asano to indisputable proof of Matsuo Noda's real objective. Allan Stern must have had this translated or somehow intuitively guessed Noda's plan. And then . . . Allan Stem had tried to warn MITI. Why? Out of past regard for Dr. Yoshida, former head of the Institute and a close friend?
Stern reportedly had vanished the same day this envelope was postmarked. Noda had acted, but not swiftly enough.
Who at MITI had been the original recipient of this memo? Maybe, he thought, it no longer mattered. There was only one real way to stop Dai Nippon. . . .
At that moment his phone buzzed. As he punched the button, his flustered secretary announced that an in-flight call was waiting, channeled through MITI's satellite security link. It was the president of Dai Nippon, International.
Tsukuba Science City can be awe-inspiring or a specter, depending on how you choose to look at it. The time was Wednesday morning, and Tam and I were viewing the place through the tinted windows of Matsuo Noda's personal DNI limo, the black Nissan she knew so well. From the vantage of an elevated freeway packed with rows of sleek Hondas and Toyotas sparkling in the cold December sunshine, we could see the silhouettes of cluster after cluster of modernistic concrete towers, an urban complex of a hundred and fifty thousand souls rising above what was, only a few short years ago, mostly farms. Be that as it may, take my word for it that nobody's growing radishes there today. Science City, nestled in the foothills of Mt. Tsukuba some fifty kilometers northeast of downtown Tokyo, represents a government investment, including the industrial park once the site of Expo '85, of over thirty billion dollars.
Tsukuba is holy ground, the place of heroes, where kamikazes once trained for their suicide missions against the American fleet. Now it is one of the largest research centers in the world, with almost ten thousand scientists and fifty separate laboratories and scientific institutes. As we neared the first complex, I tried to make sense of all the Dali-esque curved buildings that housed Japan's new brain trust. From the outside you can tell something is going on, but it seems secretive and proprietary. It is. The thing I had to keep reminding myself, though, was that none of this was for military boondoggles. It was aimed dead-on at industrial technology. E.g., there's research here on high-energy lasers all right, but they're not intended for zapping some hypothetical Soviet satellite; they're part of the world's largest laser-radar telescope, which can project beams out more than thirty miles to analyze air quality. In short, the work here was applications-oriented, practical, and—get a firm grip on your wallet— commercial.
Together with Noda and his bodyguard/chauffeur we were headed for the Electrotechnical Institute, where he was about to give us our first glimpse of Japan's new high-tech empire. That lab just so happened to be the place where heavy work was underway on applications of the artificial intelligence effort of Kenji Asano's Fifth Generation shop. It was merely the first stop, however, in an odyssey Noda claimed would take us through the hidden heart of Japan's industrial future.
Noda reported he had spoken with Kenji Asano, who was unfortunately tied up in meetings and couldn't join us until tomorrow. Thus Tam had not yet had her chance to hear his account of MITI's sudden new interest in Dai Nippon's program. All the same, Noda claimed to welcome Ken's arrival.
"Whatever concerns you may have, I'm sure he will be more than happy to address them," declared the president of Dai Nippon.
Tam had tried on her own to reach Ken at his office, without success. Maybe, I thought to myself, he just didn't want to talk. In any case that quandary remained unresolved.
The way I saw the situation, though, we had enough to deal with merely getting through today. Noda's game was no longer a game. He was going to take us to the top of the mountain, show us the other side, and then . . . what? Whatever it was, that part would have to be handled in due time. For now his intentions seemed to be to drive home a singular point: if you think Dai Nippon has been playing hardball with money, wait till you see Japan's real action. He was going to lay bare the empire, the awesome machine he now had at his command. The payoff of Tsukuba, he explained, was intended to be nothing less than total technological supremacy.
The limo was slowing to a stop in front of an oddly shaped concrete building, brand-new, that covered several acres with cones and hexagons and various geometries. We'd arrived.
"This is the Electrotechnical Institute, research center for Japan's Advanced Robot Technology Project." He pointed. The laboratory appeared to be somebody's idea of what architecture would be in the twenty-first century, a sort of Japanese spaceship splattered across a vast acreage. "The work underway here and over at the Mechanical Engineering lab is intended to coordinate all government and private research on industrial robots."
He stepped out and motioned for us to join him. Our top- secret tour had begun. As we walked toward the main entryway, he delivered an opening summary.
"Here we have allocated twenty billion yen, about a hundred and fifty million dollars, for an eight-year research program to perfect a range of industrial robots." He continued while we walked past the small gray metallic sign, in both Japanese and English, that identified the Institute. "It is being closely coordinated with the spin-offs of the Fifth Generation AI work."
I noticed that no guards were posted, though the metal doors were tightly sealed. Noda didn't bother to take out a key as he proceeded. "The Advanced Robot Technology Project coordinates the research of over twenty corporations as well as R&D at various universities, and this lab is where we integrate all the results of that work."
"You mean different parts or robots are being created at separate research operations, then brought together here?" I probably shouldn't have been surprised by the tight, nationwide coordination. Typical Japan.
"Precisely. Robots have a multiplicity of elements. There are manipulators, the mechanical versions of our hands; then there are the senses of vision and touch; and finally there is movement, locomotion. Each of these is being developed individually, then combined here. For example, if a robot is to understand voice commands—in effect making its operator a programmer—then it must incorporate the speech recognition work of the Fifth Generation Project, which will supply the eyes, the ears, the brain."
Maybe that's where Asano comes in, I thought. Could it be he's the point man here for artificial intelligence, on board to oversee creating the computerized brains for all these babies. Was he yet another DNI operative, witting or unwitting, just as Tam and I had been?
Noda's lecture was still underway. "The first generation of robots does things by rote, the same motion repeated dumbly over and over again. What we call the second generation are those with crude sensing abilities, perhaps touch pads or video, though they are still stationary." He placed his hand over a small screen by the door. A light flashed under his palm-—presumably allowing a computer somewhere to analyze his handprint—and a second later the door slid open. Then he continued, "The goal of the work here is a third-generation robot. You might almost call it a functional 'android,' since it will be able to move, see, and think much as we do. Whether it will actually look like a human is another matter, but that's not necessarily even a useful objective."
Intelligent monsters in silicon and steel, I found myself thinking. All our fantasies, or nightmares, come to life.
I didn't have to look far to see that they were already in the womb. We were entering the main laboratory floor now, surrounded by what seemed a Martian landscape of mechanical creatures. The place was bustling, yet spotless as a hospital ward. Noda acknowledged the deep bows of several of the shirt-sleeved staff, then continued.
"Although visitors are not normally permitted in the sensitive areas here, I have arranged total-access priority for you both. I consider you among the few Americans today who can understand the strategic significance of this program."
If Matsuo Noda was really saying that he intended to give us a sobering dose of Japan's impending high-tech clout, he was off to a bang-up start.
Then he turned and greeted a short, white-uniformed man. "Allow me to introduce Dr. Noburu Matsugami, who is senior staff specialist for the program here. Dr. Matsugami will be your guide today."
Matsugami was close to fifty and balding, with short- cropped hair that seemed to stand out on the sides of his head like the bristles of a metal brush. He was bowing to Noda every other second, as though he'd just been summoned by God. He attempted a smile, then greeted us in Japanese, followed by accented English.
I surveyed the floor—steel and aluminum and computers— feeling as if I could have been on another planet. Tam, strangely, had said scarcely a word the whole time. She probably knew about a lot of this, but surely not the proprietary, advanced devices.
Noda's glimpse of Japan's industrial "Manhattan Project" was one of the most memorable experiences of my life. Although I suspect the devices he let Matsugami show us were just the toys, they still were enough to leave no doubt where things were headed.
Without going into the classified details, let me attempt to describe a few of the items I still remember. I was particularly impressed by the Waseda University/Hitachi walking robot WHL-II, which uses advanced machine technology and computer control to move just as a human does, two-legged style. Its hydraulic steel joints and carbon-fiber muscles, together with its computerized foot sensors, give it walking skills better than most young humans'. Its brain of course is a microprocessor, programmed to let it walk in different styles, just as we do. Other mobile robots had four legs, even six—such as the Titan III, which we saw climb up a set of stairs like a metallic sci-fi spider.
As for robot hands, the most advanced also were from Hitachi's mechanical engineering research lab. Unlike most robot grippers, little more than glorified vises, this one had three fingers (which Matsugami claimed were more agile than a version at MIT) whose "muscles" were a heat-sensitive metal (invented in the U.S.) that would contract when an electric current passed through.
Vision research was also well advanced. A Matsushita robot equipped with a computerized "eye" was able to analyze the lines and shadows of a human face and then draw a black-and- white sketch like a sidewalk artist. Even more amazing, a robot with a TV-camera eye—developed jointly by Waseda University and Sumitomo Electric—could read sheet music and play it on a keyboard using mechanical fingers. This android pianist employed recent advances in artificial intelligence to determine the best fingering for each phrase and even took requests for tunes in spoken Japanese. Play it again, HAL. Other robots with "voice recognition" capability allowed a human operator simply to sit in one spot and command the mobile machine where to go and what to do.
At one point Tam asked Matsugami for a candid opinion on how far along he thought the Advanced Robot-Technology Program had progressed. Well, he replied, sucking in his breath pensively, the manual dexterity problem was about licked: the robot arms now being perfected could pick up anything and move it anywhere. Vision and programmable intelligence were harder, but he felt their research was getting close. Already he had robots that could analyze and interpret 3-D objects and scenes, enabling them to maneuver around a factory floor and make decisions of almost human complexity. The ultimate objective was factory-wide systems for Computer-Integrated Manufacturing (CIM) that would allow every operation of a company, from design to engineering to manufacturing, to be controlled by computer via a single data base. It was cheap, and it elevated quality control to a hundred percent. No doubt about it, he said, as Japan moved to automate manufacturing and get on with an information- industry future, these smart robots would be their secret weapon.
The Institute's mechanical menagerie, I realized, was what the next century was going to look like. Except it was here now. As Matsugami took us through lab after lab, it became clear that the Japanese "third-generation" functionoid robot was all but a reality.
Noda's message was clear. Already Japan was spending twice as much on new manufacturing technology as America was. They led the world in robotics and that lead was growing. With the coming of that third generation—robots that could
see, move, and think—world industrial leadership would be up for grabs. These were the stakes Japan was betting on the twenty-first century. Anybody who planned to play against them better have something on the table too.
At the end of the tour as dusk was beginning to settle in, Noda reappeared and escorted us back to the limo. And that's when he laid it out.
"Dr. Richardson, what you and Mr. Walton have just seen is merely a glimpse of the real peril to America's future." He was closing the door of the car. "There is much, much more . . . projects such as the rapid commercialization of superconductivity. America's world supremacy is at a crossroads."
"Why are you showing us this?" Tam was still troubled by the same question that was eating at me.
"Very simple, really. Thus far we have, together, attempted to address some of the more egregious ineptitudes in America's corporate management. Our success in that, if I may say, has already been substantial. However, the best-managed organization cannot flourish without the tools required to take it the next step. That translates as technology." He paused, then looked at us both. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"Japan now has the technology, just as it has the money," Tam answered.
"You are correct. Thus far Dai Nippon has merely provided a conduit to infuse capital into the American industrial scene. That was the easy part. The task remaining will be much more difficult." He looked at us. "Difficult because, for this, America must share in return."
"You want to make a deal, I take it." I finally spoke. Funny, but I thought I sounded a little like Faust beginning negotiations with the devil.
He smiled. "That is a blunt way of describing what I am about to suggest, Mr. Walton, but it does capture the spirit of my proposal. America excels in basic research, Japan in applied research, in engineering. The time has come to join forces."
"How?"
"As you have seen, the monetary resources at Dai Nippon's disposal make it possible for us to wield significant influence." He smiled. "Japanese capital has been brought to America; Japanese technology can be brought as well."
"At a price."
"At a price, yes. But a modest one really." He smiled again, then buzzed for his driver to start the car. "Let me put it like this. If you choose to proceed with me in the next step of Dai Nippon's program, I will arrange for everything you have seen today to be my gift to America. All I ask from you both is complete cooperation in the days ahead. Together we can forge an informal alliance between Japan and America that could alter the course of world history. But it must be done in an atmosphere of complete trust."
Tam was astonished. "You'd make this manufacturing technology available to American industry? Why?"
"As part of a quid pro quo, Dr. Richardson. It's quite simple. In return I would expect complete access to the R&D in the firms Dai Nippon has acquired." He stared back through his rimless glasses. "Which, I gather, is a notion you find a trifle unsettling."
You bastard, I thought. You did have my phone tapped. How else could you have known what she was thinking?
She shot me a telling glance. "How does all this fit in with the new MITI guidance we're suddenly getting?"
"That is a separate matter, Dr. Richardson, which we will address in due course. What I am concerned with now is something else entirely—the final step in restoring America to economic health. The first requirement was long-term capital and better management, which Dai Nippon has now begun to provide. The next is technology, a small foretaste of which I have shown you today."
Was this, I wondered, the big picture, thekanwe'd been trying to get a handle on?
"What I'm proposing," Noda continued, "is that together we become partners in the creation of a massive Japanese- American consortium. Perhaps we could call it Nipponica."
"Nipponica?" She kept her tone even.
"The name has an interesting ring to it, does it not? As I envision the organization, you would be its American CEO." He paused. "I would chair the board." Then he turned to me. "And you, Mr. Walton, could be invaluable as chief corporate counsel."
The man had gone totally mad. Or had he?
"I still don't understand how this venture could be brought together. You'd be dealing with hundreds of companies, a worldwide management headache."
"Mr. Walton, what other choice do we have? Given the precipitous decline of America's global leadership, together with Japan's economic and technological rise, there can be only two possible outcomes of the inevitable direction affairs are headed: bankruptcy for us both, or war. The time has come for risk-taking, for a belief in the human spirit. We each need the other more than our political leaders can allow themselves to admit, and thus steps must be taken outside normal diplomatic channels to bring us closer together." He continued, in perfect form, "Both America and Japan would benefit from a commingling of our industry and research. We would learn from each other, find strength in unity, realize a common perspective on global concerns. Our economies would be joined, our peoples united. Instead of friction and the saber rattling of trade disputes, we would have the harmony of a single enterprise."
"Who exactly is going to finance and operate this undertaking?" I was listening to him describe his planned-for Utopia with increasing skepticism. But he had already rocked America, and Japan, to the core. Not a man to underestimate.
"As you might suppose, Dai Nippon would, by virtue of its present situation, be ideally suited to lay the groundwork." He glanced out the tinted windows. "Afterward the political processes of both countries would naturally have no choice but to follow our lead, ratifying—as they always do—conditions that have already become afait accompli."
It had all the easy resonance of a grand historical venture, except . . . except what if this was stillken, superficialities, notkan, the real truth?
"Before we go any further, I think Dr. Richardson and I should talk this over." I looked up to see the Tsukuba Hotel, where we were scheduled to stay overnight. Noda had made other accommodations for himself, saying he also needed to drop by the Metallurgy Lab and check to see how work was going on the sword. My scheduled viewing was to be tomorrow.
"I agree." Tam looked at me sharply. "We can discuss this more in the morning."
"As you wish." The limo was pulling to a stop. "Tomorrow should be an interesting day for you both. We can continue our discussions then." He smiled. "However, be aware that time is of the essence."
With that parting shot, the long black Nissan sped away.
"Tam, let's see if this place has a bar. I need a drink."
"Double." She was carrying the small overnight bag Noda's New York staff had handed her as we left. I had one too, just a shirt and essentials.
The hotel saloon was modernistic, vinyl, and leaned heavily toward Japanese beer and Suntory whiskey. By now some middle-level executives were getting off work at the labs and dropping in to start their usual evening round of drinking, but at this early hour it was still sparsely occupied.
We headed for a comer table and ordered a couple of draft Kirin. After the beers arrived, we got down to brass tacks.
What the hell was Noda's real agenda?
Two heads, so the saying goes, are better than one. I don't know, could be they're worse. Because as Tam and I sat there, Noda's offer to head up some kind of new world consortium dangling before us, what our two heads came up with was the scariest thing that'd ever crossed my path.
Maybe it was the thought of America's working stiffs, whose jobs Noda supposedly was so determined to save. Trouble was, I didn't buy that in the slightest anymore. So what made any sense?
Simple. Why not the most obvious answer of all? Noda wasn't doing this for them. Or for Japan. That wasn't his game. Noda was planning this grand design for Noda.
"Tam." I sipped at my beer. "Did you believe a word of what he said?"
"Of course not. At least not the United Nations speech. It's pure hogwash."
"Totally agree. But he's about to do something big, I'm convinced."
"Got any ideas."
Luckily the place was getting noisier now, so nobody could have been listening even if they'd tried. Which was the very reason I wanted to talk in the bar and not in either of our rooms. Who knew the reach of Noda's electronic ears?
"Not really. But what if we stepped back a second and tried looking at this latest move from a longer view. Maybe we've been tangled up in the trees, missing the forest."
"We've seen plenty of forest lately."
"But what if it's the wrong one? Let's try theteki ni naru to iu kotostrategy, become the enemy. Pretend for a minute we're Noda, a guy who's got it all—money, clout, everything. So why
does he all of a sudden want to come across the Pacific and buy himself a load of industrial headaches, then hand them Japan's technology?"
"It's MITI somehow. I'm convinced that's the key. Which is why I'm going to nail Ken."
"Well, let's not jump to conclusions. I'm wondering. What if Dai Nippon is taking over American industry not because it's strategic to MITI as those memos we found would lead us to think. What if the reason is because it's strategic to Noda?"
"But why?"
"What if his relationship to that ministry is something totally different from what it seems?"
"Well, if MITI's not behind the buy-ups, then who're they for?"
I sat a minute, again trying to think like Noda. "What if this scenario is actually aimed at . . . what if it's a global power play?"
She looked at me skeptically. "I don't get it."
"Okay, granted it sounds crazy, but let's chase that for a minute. I think we agree this whole scenario is not what he wants it to seem. So what are some of the other things in all this that aren't what they appear to be? Does anything dovetail?" I sat musing a second, searching for an opening. "What are some of the twists about Japan that're obviously misleading?"
"Well, acceptance ofgaijin, for one. It goes only so far, then stops like a brick wall." She was obviously speaking from personal experience.
"Maybe that's because they've always been isolated. Some things never change," I pondered aloud. "Which is probably the secret of their success. Take the ruling clique. Sure, Japan is a democracy, but is it really? Not the way we understand the word. What they actually have, after you get past all the slogans, is just a retread of the old system. The truth is it's still run as it was a thousand years ago. By the old families, the old money. Elections never decide issues. They're handled by the power structure. Half the seats in the Diet are practically hereditary, going back generations in the same family. There's only one real political party. The ministries are fiefdoms. I mean, the goddam country is still feudal. They don't even have a word for democracy. They had to borrow it.Demokurasu."
"Well, Japan's a pragmatic place. The old ways work. Remember thezaibatsu, those industrial conglomerates that ran the war machine? MacArthur dismantled them, but they reappeared almost as soon as he left."
"Right, the power structure restored those right away. The zaibatsu are back and chewing up world commerce. But thedemokurasueyewash is still around. The job's not finished."
She stared around the room. "Matt, I don't like where I think you're headed."
"I agree it's sick, but let's push it a little more. What is it about Japan that's made it such a dynamo the last couple of decades?"
"Hard work, organization, drive."
"Exactly. But where did that come from?"
"They had to have it. Over the centuries most Japanese were dirt poor. They had to hustle just to survive. Matthew, Japan is a collectivist society driven by capitalism, an idea so alien to the West nobody can even see it."
"Perfect description. Only problem is, all thisdemokurasuis sooner or later going to start cutting away the very thing that's made Japan so successful—a country powered by obedient, collective action and glued together by hierarchy and tradition."
"You're saying Noda wants to turn back the clock?"
"Don't know. But what if these industrialists, thesezaibatsuhonchos, are fed up with having to deal with all the cumbersomedemokurasumachinery. And they're especially fed up with a certain ministry making them jump the hoop. Tam, what if Noda's real agenda is to go to America and buy himself a gun to hold to MITI's head."
"You don't think he's buying America's companies to help MITI?" She looked unconvinced.
"If I had money to bet, I'd almost be willing to put it on the possibility he's buying leverage to use against MITI and through them the whole inefficient government setup. How come MITI's suddenly sending staff over to look in on Noda's play? Could it be somebody there's figured out what he's up to and they want to head him off? They realize Matsuo Noda is the only man on the planet who could conceivably beat MITI at its own game? Bring it to its knees? First he acquired control of half the capital in Japan, then he came to the U.S. and started grabbing up all the R&D that'll be competing with MITI through the end of the century. When he's got it, he'll have a power base to match theirs. He's set to call the new tune."
"Which is?"
"Who knows? But try this for an agenda: time to cut the crap, Noda's thinking, get rid of all the clumsy Western-styledemokurasucharade, tighten up, lean and mean. Go back to the only system that's ever really clicked for Japan. Imperial rule. Make the 'Land of the Gods' sacred and invincible."
"This is getting wild." She lowered her voice. "But maybe . . . maybe you could be right. He just happens to locate the Imperial sword, and suddenly the emperor is resurrected from a discredited figurehead back to a symbol of Japan's greatness."
"Here comes that old-time religion. Everybody goes traditional, right on cue, and the nutty Japan Firsters are thriving again, just like the thirties."
"Good Lord."
"Doesn't it all fit somehow? Matsuo Noda started off by creating this shadow outfit, Dai Nippon, in order to get his hands on all his countrymen's money. Now the next step will be to start phasing out thedemokurasufrills and the powerless prime minister and the MITI bureaucrats and turning the place into a kick-ass machine again. Look out world."
"One small problem. The emperor can't rule Japan. Not really. He's a living god. Which means . . ."
"See? That difficulty's nothing new. For a thousand years the emperor's had no real clout anyway. The nitty-gritty of running Japan was always the job of his stand-in."
There was a long pause. We both avoided speaking the word, but there it was. Finally she leaned back and closed her eyes, her voice barely audible above the din of the bar.
"Shogun."