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NATHANIEL VISITS JAPAN

 

   My ability to speak every language in the world, not to mention all the world’s dialects, gives me a great advantage when I travel, particularly if I travel to the Far East. Not many Westerners can speak Shan or Tagalog like a native, let alone understand the complexities of Hunza, Tibetan, or Mongolian, wax fluent in the tongues of the Laotian hill tribes, and compose eloquent missives in Mandarin. I revel in Japanese, and can tell lewd jokes in the Hokkaido vernacular with the best.

   My skill came in particularly handy on my last trip to Tokyo. The invitation arrived in rather a roundabout sort of way: I had a call from a man working for a Japanese bank, who told me that he was ringing on a recommendation from Carol, mother of Sarah, my pet majorette.

   ‘The bank has heard you have some extraordinary powers’. He giggled – I was not sure whether he was European or Oriental. ‘Perhaps you could join us for lunch.’

   I was intrigued, and accepted the invitation, after first showing a proper reluctance, with all the accompanying need to consult my diary, and make sure that his bank would keep me a parking bay. I think undue eagerness can sometimes tarnish one’s marketability a little – I certainly find that potential clients respect me more if I display a measured reticence. Parking bays are also an essential part of my travel plans. I don’t much care to use public transport, not least because I can sometimes have a short fuse, and it can be embarrassing for me to grow irritable, and leave a trail of migraines and bad headaches in my wake. I generally wear dark glasses when all else fails.

   The lunch was small, but plainly high-powered. My caller met me in the bank’s reception, beneath a magnificent chandelier. He was Japanese, but spoke excellent English, and treated me with marked deference. The receptionist, an exceptionally attractive Japanese woman, a real front desk trophy, smiled at me with marked respect. I had a feeling I was on to a winner.

   We were five to sit down, the bank’s chairman and managing director, and two taciturn men from Tokyo. Their cards identified them as the chairmen of companies of which I had never heard, but it was plain - from the way the bankers behaved - that they were very important men indeed. The food was both delicious and beautifully set out: some slivers of marinaded salmon and lobster, arranged with little sprays of dill in the prettiest of patterns, followed by sliced cold beef set against a fan of raw carrots sliced into matchsticks, with a couple of small heaps of pureed vegetables – leeks, I think, in one, and something that tasted like kohlrabi in the other, and small cakes of boiled rice. The waitress was English, but schooled in proper deference – I am surprised she did not enter and leave the bank’s diningroom on her knees. A Japanese butler in black jacket and striped trousers served a choice white burgundy with the salmon, and a fine claret with the beef. My four companions may have been orientals, but they behaved as though they had all been educated at Eton and Oxford.

   We made polite small talk, discussing politics, investments, and the world of art – the kind of things one expects to preoccupy rich men. Nobody asked me about my skills, or mentioned any reason for my invitation, until we had finished our strawberry souffles, served with a delicious Sauterne. The butler and the waitress withdrew, leaving us with coffeee and a fine champagne cognac, and one of the taciturn men spoke quickly in Japanese to his companion. He plainly thought he was effectively speaking in code, and I gave no sign of understanding. But his words were clear: ‘now we must find out’.

   The chairman of the bank nodded slightly, and smiled at me. ‘We have heard that you possess very special powers,’ he said delicately.

   I inclined my head politely.

   ‘We have been told that you can kill people with a look.’

   I frowned, to show that I was in a serious mood. ‘I can, but I don’t suppose you want a demonstration.’

   The four men watching me all looked slightly alarmed, and one of the two very important men drew in his breath with a sharp, sibilant sound. I could tell that he was about to ask a tricky question.

   ‘You also have other powers, I think?’ His manner was impassive and inscrutable. But something very akin to a leer gleamed momentarily in his eyes.

   I nodded. I could have asked them to call the waitress back, and taken her on the table, before their very eyes. But I am not an exhibitionist. I have special powers, it is true, but I do not flash them about. I first expect my clients to make some kind of up-front commitment.

   The bank chairman put his hand over his mouth to whisper to the very important man, but of course I understood his words perfectly. ‘We must have some proof.’

   The very important man assented gravely. The chairman smiled, and spoke now in English. ‘We have some work for you in Tokyo. It will be very well paid.’

   I waited. He took up a little bell, and rang it twice. The butler returned, and the chairman spoke into his ear. The butler came back a few minutes later with a girl in tow. Pretty, but nothing very special – she looked like a secretary.

   The chairman glanced at me archly. ‘A small demonstration?’

   I was not very pleased, for I am not a malefactor to hand out free samples. I gave him rather a sharp look, and he slumped in his chair, with his hand to his forehead. He really looked quite ill.

   ‘I charge up to twentyfive thousand,’ I murmured. ‘Sometimes more, on special occasions. But I think you now owe me two thousand.’ I kept my voice low, but spoke very precisely.

   The chairman did not reply. He seemed wholly pre-occupied, and gulped a couple of times. He gave the appearance of being in considerable pain. His managing director, and the two very important men, and the butler, clustered closely around him, speaking to him in anxious Japanese. They were asking him how he felt.

   I cleared my throat. ‘He will recover in an about an hour.’ I gave the young woman a fond look. ‘Perhaps you could take me to an office with a nice comfortable sofa, whilst I wait for the bank to find me my money.’

   We spent a pleasant half hour in the managing director’s office, with the door firmly locked. No doubt the bank’s chairman would have liked to be present, had his head been in good condition. But we cannot have everything that we want.

   I flew first-class to Tokyo a couple of days later. I agreed to stay for five days, I was assured it would be quite sufficient, and I thought five thousand a day very reasonable pickings. It was also my first trip, and I enjoy my sightseeing. Hiroshi Morita, my contact at the bank, came with me. From something he said I gathered my stay would be most comfortable, and I had visions of spending my nights with a most delicious bevy of women, probably entertaining me in multiple groupings.

   Hiroshi drank quite a lot on the flight, and giggled to himself once or twice. We talked, in English, of course. But once he mistook a word. He told me the bank regarded me as a great trophy. But then he used the Japanese word for ‘capture’, and I found that a little disconcerting. His slip made me wary.

   A big limousine met us at Osaka, and it was all very glossy. We drove out towards Nara, and then up into the hills, to halt at a gateway. We seemed to be entering a large estate, and I glimpsed a small sign with the words ‘Research Clinic’ in Japanese. Now I was growing very wary indeed. A gate swung open, and a man waved us through, and then we had to halt for a second gate, for all the world as though we were negotiating a canal lock. I noted that both gates were set in high metal fences topped by stanchions carrying ceramic insulators, and I could see razor wire linking the insulators.

   I glanced at Hiroshi. ‘Good security.’

   He giggled. ‘It is a kind of hotel. We keep you here tonight, and maybe tomorrow night. Then we tell your mission. You have a big job to do. We will spirit you away back to England as soon as it is completed.’

   Something made me doubt his words, and I thought for a moment of making him tell me the truth. But I always enjoy an adventure. However I became a little concerned when we halted in front of a large building, and I saw that a group of men marshalled into a reception committee were all wearing glasses. It seemed rather too much of a coincidence.

   A man who appeared to be the group’s leader stepped forward and held out his hand. ‘Ah, Mr. Nathaniel, I am Nozumo Kazawa. We are so pleased to see you.’

   We shook hands and I followed him into the building. The reception area or lobby was large and anonymous, with a bored-looking man behind a desk. But I scented  a vaguely chemical odour, the kind of smell you have in a hospital, or medical research establishment. I noticed that the rest of the reception committee regrouped behind Kazawa, for all the world like junior doctors or apprentice scientists surrounding a specialist.

   ‘We think you must be tired.’ He smiled broadly, he had big teeth, like a piranha. ‘We have arranged a private suite for you. One of our hostesses will visit with you in a moment, to find out what you would like for your evening meal.’

   His timing was perfect, for a door opened at that very moment, and a woman in Japanese dress flowed towards us. She was tall for an oriental, and really very pretty indeed. I judged her to be close on thirty.

   She held out her hands, and her smile was most winning. ‘Mr. Nathaniel, I am Tatsuko, I am here to look after you.’ Her English was very good. Her body language was unmistakably inviting. I licked my lips, and I could feel my ends flicker. One of the group standing behind Kazawa made a strangled that sounded remarkably like a titter being swallowed.

   Tatsuko led me along a passage with a formal garden, all rocks and carefully raked white sand, behind a glass wall. She had obviously been told to charm me, but I noticed a sign in Japanese indicating that we were walking towards an ‘Experimental Unit’.

   She opened a door, and I could see that we had reached a large and very comfortable room, furnished with armchairs and a sofa, and with a table and four more chairs making up a dining area in one corner. An open door beyond it appeared to lead into a bedroom, but I had a strange feeling that I was stepping into some kind of set, like a film set. I looked around approvingly, took a look at the bedroom, and the bathroom beyond it. But I was sure that the bathroom spent most of its time serving as a very smart washroom. I wondered whether Kazawa had converted his own offices to serve as a suite.

   ‘We hope you will be very happy here.’ Tatsuko drew closer. I chose not to resist. I was sure Kazawa’s employers had paid her a good deal of money to sex me up, and I saw no reason at all to disappoint them.

   We embraced, and now both my ends grew rampant. She drew me towards the bed, and began to undress me. But she would not le me undress her, and I had to stand waiting impatiently for a moment, and suddenly I had a distinct feeling that I was being watched, and probably filmed.

   I must say that she gave good value, though I noticed she insisted on lying in such a way than any observer must secure a good view of the duality of my movements. But then I like to think that I also left her with a memory that she would not soon forget.    I heard movement in the outer room, and rolled away from her on the bed.

   ‘It is nothing. People are bringing food.’ She waved my concern away. She began to play with my second member, it seemed to fascinate her. ‘You are not made like other men.’

   I decided that enough was enough. Food, and even more drink, can be drugged, and I had no wish whatsoever to end up on an operating table. My parts are precious to me. I thought for a moment of being unpleasant, but then decided to repay charm with charm.

   I gave her a love look, and spoke to her in her own language. ‘You must get me out of here.’

   ‘But you speak Japanese.’ She seemed startled.

   ‘I speak everything.’ I was brisk. ‘I don’t like it here. I want to go.’

   Tatsuko looked doubtful. ‘It is very heavily guarded.’ She told me that I was effectively a prisoner, trapped in a steel circle. I was only interested to learn whether the guards wore glasses. She thought that most did not.

   We went into the outer room to have dinner. A butler came, wearing no glasses. I persuaded him to take us into the kitchens, and spent the next twenty minutes rounding up a motley collection of chefs, and waitresses, and security guards with a mixture of love looks and really painful migraines. Some of the security guards carried guns, so I armed Tatsuko and a couple of waitresses, and rounded up Kazawa and his companions at gunpoint. I don’t think they all quite understood, and a couple tried to be foolish. Tatsuko shot one, though I think she only did it under my influence. I killed the other with a look.

   After that it was all plain sailing. Kazawa arranged for transport back to the airport, and flew back to London at my side. His heart packed in at Heathrow. The bank sent me the money by courier. I told Morita to tell his boss to leave Britain if he wanted to live. I don’t know what happened to Tatsuko. Perhaps Kazawa’s people strapped her to an operating table in my place. Not a nice way to end.