DianeJoplinsatinthevanlisteningtothediscordantmeleeofthevoices.Thevoiceswerenotinagreement.Oneofthemhadrisenabovethedinandinstructedhertoslideopenthedoorsofthemovingvanandjumpout.Yet,theothervoices,hermother’sandonethatsoundedvaguelylikeherfather’s,toldhertobepatient.Allthewhile,shekepthereyestrainedonthemanwiththesmoothlongfacewhohadsavedherfromtheYakuza.Therewasaprettygirldrivingthevanandfromthewayshewasswitchinglanesshelookedlikeanexcellentdriver.Dianewasn’tsure,butshethoughtsheheardthemanrefertoherasSeven,whichsheconcludedwasanoddnameevenforagirl.Ithadtobeacodename,shefigured.They’ddroppedthetwoidentikitheaviesoffnotfarfromKabukichoandthenthevanhaddrivenuponeofthoseflyovers.
Theman,whohadtoldherthathisnamewasFouler,hadtriedhardtoreassureherthatshewassafe.Hewasnowtryingtomakeaphonecallfromthevanbutseemedtobehavingtroubleconnecting.Hewasonspeakerphoneandshecouldhearthephonering,makeascreechingnoiseandthenendinaseriesofbeeps.Themanwasgettingexasperated.He’dturnedouttobeEnglishalthoughhisaccentwasn’tthesameoneshe’dheardEnglishpeopleuseinAmerica.
Dianeturnedherattentiontotheconsolesliningonesideofthevan.Nexttotheequipmentsatagrayboxwithalabelthatread“FuelCells.HandlewithCare!”ItlookedliketheboxwasprovidingpowerforalltheputerequipmentbutDianewasn’tsure.Itlookedtoosmall.Someofthemonitorsshowedvariousmapsaroundtheworld,someofwhichsherecognized,andthereweretheseblinkingdotsonthemthatshecouldswearshesawmovingbutshecouldn’tbecertainbecausetheydidn’treallymovemuch.Thesmellofthevanremindedherofherfather’sdeninBoston.Itwasthatnotunpleasantsmellofhotponentsandplastic.TheEnglishmancalledFoulerseemedtohavemadeaconnection.
“Hello,DirectorRyan,please,”Foulersaid,givingheraknowingstare.Dianehadnoideawhatthatwasallabout.
“IamafraidDirectorRyanisontheotherline,”amiddleage-soundingfemalevoicesaid.
“TellhimthisisBruceFouler.Believemehe’lltakemycall.”
“OK,hangonasecond.”ThevoicesoundedhesitantbutFoulerwasplacedonhold.AdvertisingmessagesabouttheFBIstartedingfromthespeakerofFouler’sphone.HewascallingthedirectoroftheFBI.ThevoicethathadaskedhertojumpfromthevanstartedwhisperingthingstoDiane.ShewouldbehandedovertotheFBIandshewouldgotoprisonforaverylongtime.WeretheseguysFBI?DianehadneverheardaboutEnglishFBIagentsyetthevanandtheequipmentfittedthemould.ThentheFBIadsstopped.
“Bruce,it’sbeenawhile.WhatcanIdoforyou?”Thevoicesoundedjovial,nothinglikethewayDianethoughtFBIagentssoundedlike,especiallyinthemovies.
“TheProfessorJoplincasethattheCIAisallexcitedaboutbutseemstobegettingnowherewithmightbeabouttodrawtoaclose.IhavesomethingthatwillgivetheFBItheupperhand,”Foulersaid.
“Oh,that.TheyfoundoutthatitwastheworkoftheBostonfactionoftheJapaneseYakuza.TheirDNAwasallovertheprofessor’shouseandwehaveextensivefilesontheseguys.Wepulledtheminyesterdayandafterabitofcoaxingtheyspilledthebeans.ItseemedtheprofessorwasonsomeYamaguchi-gumihitlist.Forwhat,wedon’tknow.TheseguysjusttookordersfromJapan.Themissingdaughterwastakenoffthesuspectlisttodayalthoughwehaveyettofindher.Butweareclose.Agentsarepickingherupatherhotelrightnow.Sowhatdoyouhaveforme?Iknowyoudon’tcallmyspeciallinetokeepmeuptodateoncasesthatsellnewspapersforthetabloids.”
“IaminTokyo.IhavetheJoplingirlhere.Wouldyouliketotalktoher?”Foulersaidsimply.Therewasapauseontheline.ThentheFBIdirectorspoke.
“AlwaysonestepaheadFouler.Idon’tknowhowyoudoit.Dianetherearealotofworriedpeoplehere.Yourmaidwassurethatyouhadbeenkidnapped.Andforawhile,awholelotoffolkthoughtyourdisappearancesuggestedyou’ddonesomethingwrong.”
“Sorry,Iwasupsetandneededtogetawayforawhile,”Dianeexplained,wonderingiftheFBIdirectorwouldunderstand.
“AllthewaytoJapan?”
“IthoughtIwouldfindanswerstomyfather’sdeathhereinTokyo,”Dianesaid.Shewasrelievedthatitseemedshewasnolongerintroubleandthemostliberalofthevoiceswerenowreassuringherofthat.Theothervoicesscreamedincoherently,generatingawholelotofbackgroundnoisebutifDianetriedreallyhardshecouldignorethem.Yettherewasone,theisolatedvoiceofascaredlittlegirl,whichshefoundhardtoblockout.
“You’llmakeafineFBIagent,youngwoman.IttookouragentsseveraldaystotracethiscasebacktoJapanandyoudiditinwhat,asplitsecond?”TherewasaforcedchuckleontheothersideofthelineandFoulerwasgivingherthislook,likeshehaddonesomethinghewasimpressedwith.Thegirl’swhinyvoiceinherheadwassuggestingthatitwasatricktomakeherfeelfortable.TheFBIwasgoingtoarrestherandchargeherwiththemurderofherfather.
“Thanks,”shesaidsimplyoverthespeakerphone.Thecynicalvoiceseruptedincacklesofdisappointment.
“Well,IguessanFBIsalarywouldn’tmeanmuchtoyou.Youareaverybraveandveryrichyoungwoman.Yourfatherleftyoualotofmoney.Youprobablywouldneverneedtoworkagain,ifyouinvestedwisely.”
Heistryingtodeducefromyourreplywhetheryouwantyourfather’smoney.Can’tyouseethat?It’sallonebigtrap.
“Thanks,”Dianesaidagain.Shehadnoideahowelsetorespondtothat.
“You’llneedtoebackhomeandsignthepapersofcoursebutthat’ssomethingtosortoutwithyourfather’slawyers,”themancalledJohnRyansaid.
Yousee?AndthatFoulerispartoftheplan.
Buthesavedmylife.
Hedidnosuchthing.
“We’llgetherbacktoBoston,ifthat’swhatshewantstodo,”Foulerinterjected,givingherthatstrangelookagain.
See.
“Sure.GoodluckandthanksFouler.ThoseCIAboyswillbegratedthatwewrappedthisup.”
“Surething.SeeyounexttimeIaminWashington,”Foulersaid,smilingtohimself.
“Absolutely.GoodbyeBruceandthanks.”
Foulerhungupjustasthevanpulledintoadriveway.BehindthelargeJapanese-stylewoodenbuildingstoodaloomingsnow-cappedmassthatDianeJoplinrecognizedfromcyberspacephotosasMountFuji.AsigninEnglishandKanjionthebuildingreadHakoneRyokan.Abigmanwearingatweedsuitstoodoutsidetheentrancewithanattractive-lookingJapaneseladyandahandsomeEurasiankid.FoulerexplainedtoDianeastheygotoutofthevanthattheywouldbestayinghereattheDeWittefamily’shotspringsryokanwhileAgentJackmanandAgentJonesretrievedherbelongingsfromtheKeioPlazaHotel.
“You’llbesafehere,”Foulerwhisperedashewalkeduptothefamilyandshooktheman’shand.
ThevoicesinDiane’sheadwerestrangelysilent.AllshecouldhearwasthebeatingofherheartasshestoleanotherglanceattheDeWitteboy.
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