If the swordsman casts aside two thoughts, life and death, nothing can defeat his mind.
That was the credo of the formidable warrior-samurai Bokuden, who lived during the early seventeenth century. Focus on Noda, I told myself, not on staying alive. What we had to do was overcome him and the money of Japan by the power of mind. By beating him at his own game. That was the only way we could win.
As I saw it, we might actually have the advantage. We knew his strategy, so all we had to do now was move inside his defense perimeter. In a way we were even closer than he realized. Noda was obsessed with Nipponica, and a samurai concentrating on his sword is not able to attack. The thing to remember was rhythm, the beat. We had to get out of sync with him, disrupt his pacing.
When Tam and I retreated to my office, I noticed that my katana was missing. No surprise, but it didn't really matter. We would be using the "no sword" technique anyway, moving under his hilt, then going in for the kill. Jim Bob would be our new weapon.
At the moment Noda's new hatchet man was strolling around the floor in his dingy white suit, toting his Uzi and monitoring us with an occasional vacant stare as he watched the terminal's flash. His bumpkin facade, incidentally, had to be the best acting job I'd seen since the Royal Shakespeare. He may have been a spaced-out options hustler at heart, but he could coach Machiavelli on duplicity. A worthy opponent.
"Just hit nine percent of IBM." He glanced at a CRT screen as he ambled down the row next to my office, swinging the automatic. "Telephone looks good for twelve percent by opening bell tomorrow. Good thing we've got a computer and these fake accounts. Otherwise we might have to cut the SEC in on the news a little too early."
Well, DNI was nothing if not organized; "global trading" was on a roll. There would be no way to trace Noda-or to stop him. By the time anybody realized what was afoot, he'd be well on the way to having us literally bought out. God knows, Japan had the money.
"Jim Bob," I yelled across. "Mind telling me what the hell it is you really think you're up to?"
"I'm making history." He grinned and waved his Uzi in the air. "You're getting to watch the dawn of a new age."
"For your wallet." I beckoned him over. "Tell me something. You didn't actually sell any of the high-tech stocks on Tam's list after all, did you?"
"Hell, no." He was still grinning. "All we did was play games a little. Whenever I sold anything, I just turned around and bought it back a few minutes later."
"So where's all the money coming from for this big blue chip takeover?"
"We got a whole new financial network in place. Mr. Noda worked it out with the pension funds over there."
"Well, it seems to me you ought to be doing this thing right. Why think small? Pick up some more shares of those high-tech issues in the old portfolio too."
He stared at me with his bloodshot eyes. "How come we'd want to bother with that?"
"Just thought maybe you'd like to make a score."
"Huh?"
"Besides, down the line it'd probably impress hell out of Noda. The man admires initiative."
"What was it you said about a score?" He was blinking in erratic bursts, still flying on uppers.
"Forget it. Just a crazy idea that crossed my mind." I turned and walked back into the office… where Tam was waiting.
"What was that all about?"
"Tam, did you hear what those bastards did?" I was steaming. 'They blew my daughter's college money."
"I heard."
"Well, it pisses me off like I can't begin to describe."
"I gathered that." She looked at me strangely. "He finally got to you, didn't he? Noda finally pulled your cork. No more Mr. Cool."
"You got it, lady."
She continued to study me, and into her eyes crept a kind of affection I didn't even know they possessed. "Guess that makes two of us, Matt. He found out how to get to me, and now he's found out the one thing you care about."
"Guess he did at that."
"Well, now you know how I feel."
"He broke the rules, Tam. That's not part of the game. But do you understand what this means? Now I'm free to do anything I want. Honor is out the window."
"This isn't a game."
"You're right. It's a battle. But even battles have rules."
"My God, macho to the end."
"Call it what you want. But I am now going to destroy them both, totally. Wipe them out. They've given me no choice."
"How exactly do you propose doing that?"
"I made the opening move just now. Next I'm… later." I glanced up to see Jim Bob approaching. He was staring at me, glassy-eyed.
"What was that you were saying a while ago?"
"Don't remember, Jim Bob."
"Something about a score."
"Oh, that. Nothing really."
"Don't start getting cute, Walton." He sighted his Uzi around the office.
"Nobody screws with you, right?"
"Better believe it, sport."
"Well, I was just wondering, since Noda's tied up at the moment, if you might want to go ahead and make a little money on the side."
"I'm not doing so bad."
"Fine. Since you're not interested anyway, we can just skip it. No big deal."
"Hang on a second." His eyes seemed to be trying to focus as he stared through his gunsights. "What's the play?"
"Merely a wild idea, that's all. I was wondering what would happen if you bought a few call options on those stocks already in the portfolio, then boosted the prices on those too?"
"You mean on those high-tech outfits we were supposed to start selling?"
"Well, the setup's just sitting out there. You've got all that Japanese pension money and Noda's computer. No reason not to kite those high-tech issues a little and pick up some pocket change. Fun and games to while away the time. But then maybe you've already made all you want to."
"Hey, asshole, there's two things you can't ever get too much of, and one of them's money." He was rocking mechanically. "Matter of fact, this action we're generating is driving up the March calls for our new buys to the point where the price is getting way out of line."
"Had to happen. Everybody else in town has figured out somebody's driving the market. They're getting on the options bandwagon too, bidding them up. So why not play a little market shell-game with those issues already in the portfolio, buy some calls and then kite the price on them as well? Show Noda a thing or two."
"Kind of stick it to the boss man." He paused.
"Think of it as insurance. Just to make sure you come out of this play whole. Tell you a secret about Noda. With that guy, you know you've got a deal when the check clears."
"He's a crafty fucker, grant you."
"You might want to give it some thought. But if you're going to make a move, it's probably now or never. Be the early bird or forget it."
All this time Tam was looking at me as if I'd gone over the edge. I began to deeply regret not having filled her in on the fallback scenario.
The door to Noda's office was now closed, his two guards posted outside. Guess even a samurai needs some rest and tranquility after flying halfway around the globe in a chartered Concorde.
"Well, gotta admit it's an idea." Jim Bob continued to weave unsteadily. His motor mechanisms were now on automatic, along with his venal corn-pone brain.
"Matt, what in hell are you doing?" Tam was pulling me back into the office.
"Stay cool. Swordsmanship is like Zen. You can't ever let your mind get attached to anything. Do that and you're stuck; your mind stays with the past and makes you neglect what lies ahead. So I figure the best thing to do here is to adjust to the new 'prevailing conditions.'" I glanced out at Jim Bob, now just beyond the door and absently humming some Waylon Jennings tune as he swayed solo.
"Well, I want to know what you're up to."
"Okay, here's the play. While you were setting up your sell-off scheme, I did some fiddling on my own. Remember back when we started out, I fast-talked Noda into giving me power of attorney? Well, it finally paid off. Last week I convened an instant shareholders' meeting for every company where DNI owns a majority of the stock and personally voted through a new set of resolutions."
"Mind filling me in on what they were?"
Before I could reply, Jim Bob came dancing in, licking his pale lips. "Walton, tell you what. Think I'm gonna go for it."
"What?" I looked up.
"That options play. Comes a time you gotta look out for yourself and fuck everybody."
"That's the kind of thinking made this country what it is today, Jim Bob. Right on."
"Fuckin' A, baby." He did a quick dance step. "Go for the gold."
"You know, as long as we're at it, how about a little piece of the action for me too? Nothing big. Just a couple of bucks for old times' sake."
"Why the hell not!" He let out a whoop as he turned and headed for a terminal. "Give you sloppy seconds on this one, ace. Just long as I get first pop."
"Matt, I don't know what you're up to, but I'll kill you if you start helping him." She looked like she would too.
"You know, you once said you wanted to drive a stake into DNI's heart." I turned back. "Well, this is your chance. But we've got to get moving and do it before Noda catches on."
Whereupon we joined Jim Bob in front of his monitor. He was now busy pulling up quotes for March calls on the Chicago Board Options Exchange, the CBOE. He checked them over, then got on the phone directly to the market makers on the floor. When you're operating in hyperdrive, you don't dawdle around with brokers.
"Jim Bob, while you're doing that, I think I'll just start setting up the buy orders for the stock. If we want to move prices, we've got to have coordination."
"Yahoo. Let's kick some ass." He'd just entered a wholly new dimension of exuberance. "Shit fire and save your matches; fuck a duck and see what hatches."
My sentiments precisely. I started scrolling up DNI's portfolio of high-tech securities, looking for the biggies. If things went as planned, our screwing of Matsuo Noda was definitely going to be memorable.
Now Jim Bob was chortling quietly to himself as he punched up more numbers, moving on to bilk options traders on the AMEX.
"Matthew, you'd better finish explaining what you're up to." Tam was standing behind me, her hand gripping my shoulder.
"Look, we have to do this fast. Switch a beat on Noda, break his rhythm. Just trust me."
"My favorite word." She didn't move.
"Now"-I pointed to a column of green numbers on the left-hand side of the screen-"are those the percentage holdings DNI has?"
"Looks correct."
They were about what I remembered. DNI's positions varied from around fifty percent to the low sixties.
"Okay." I turned to face her. "Which of these do you want to knock out first? There may not be time to torpedo them all."
"What are you going to do?" She was frowning, but I could tell the idea had appeal.
"Set dynamite under them. Just blow them sky-high."
"How?"
"Using an obscure corporate anti-takeover tactic not many people know about yet. Jim Bob's right. We're going to make history. Nobody's ever done this on the scale you're about to witness. Just pick the stocks you want detonated first, but please hurry." I shoved a pen and paper at her, then turned to watch Jim Bob, now dancing around with a phone in his ear, still buying calls on the old DNI portfolio. "How're we doing over there, chief?"
"Don't want to push March too hard, tip off the market, so I'm picking up some Junes too." He yelled my way, "We're going long, baby."
"Jim Bob, I was just wondering. Don't you think you ought to hedge a little, just in case? Maybe buy a few puts to cover the downside?"
"With the kind of volatility I'm about to goose into this market? You're starting to sound like some pussy, Walton. Get naked, go native. Only way to fly." He did a twirl, then a kick. "Just buckle in, dude, cause I'm gonna take that Jap money and pump my underlying stocks right into orbit. This play's a lock, taking money from a baby."
"Well, I wasn't blessed with your brand of raw courage, Jim Bob. So what do you say I do a little hedging for you? We'll be partners. I'll cover the downside with my own money, assuming I've got any left. I'll buy a few puts, and then if these stock prices just decide to go crazy and crash, we can still sell at the current quotes. Protect ourselves if things head south for some reason."
"Suit yourself. But that's the best way I can think of to piss away what little 'haircut' you've got left." He was grinning again.
"Guess I'm a masochist. What can I tell you."
While my new "partner" was laying the groundwork for his scam, loading up on options to buy stocks at today's prices just before he turned around and shoved enough Japanese money into the market to send them sky-high, I did the opposite. I got on the phone to various brokers, including a currently jubilant Sam Kline, and started buying "at the money" puts in Amy's name.
Jim Bob was betting the market would head up, buying calls; I was betting it would go down, buying puts. I was laying a wager with anybody in America who would agree, for my front money, to buy a stock from me at today's quotes anytime through mid-March, even if the real price had since dropped to zilch. Which I fully intended to make happen.
Insider trading? Well… yes. You see, I was literally the only man on earth who actually knew what the stock market was going to do next, after DNI started buying more of those stocks I'd planted with land mines. But I was a driven man just then. Maybe I'd go to jail eventually, but by God Amy would still make college.
Amy. What was she doing today? I wondered. This was, what? Tuesday? So she must be back at school, probably thinking about lunch. Strawberry yogurt and a bar of Tiger's Milk "health" candy. God, I loved that little dark-haired prize more than life itself.
Where were we headed, she and I? Was I going to learn to let go? Maybe that wasn't going to be the problem, I thought, at least for her. Face it, I was about to become a fixture, just a stuffy impediment to nature's raging hormones. She'd already started rehearsing feminine wiles on me, practicing that coy, downcast glance that didn't quite break subliminal eye contact. Where did she learn stuff like that? And she almost had it down cold. Next it'll probably be eye shadow and colored bras.
Damn. This Christmas was going to be my last real chance to get to know her, to bore her silly with all my eminently ignorable fatherly advice. And I blew it. That in itself was enough to make me want to deep-six Matsuo Noda forever, the bastard. The money I fully planned to recoup; her thirteenth Christmas was gone forever.
With which somber thought, I returned to buying puts. By the time I'd finished, Tam had her "death wish" list ready. And Jim Bob was just wrapping up his new program of call-option acquisition. Now for phase two.
I strolled over to his monitor, carrying her paper.
"Jim Bob, these might be a good place to start." I tossed the sheet down beside his keyboard. "Why not just set up a lot of buy orders to hit the market tomorrow at the opening? Doing it all at once should drive the prices straight up."
"Right." He leaned back, twitching. "Wonder how much buying it'll take?"
"Well, why not play it safe? Use the computer and just boost DNI's high-tech portfolio another… oh, five percent, straight across the board. Every issue. Program it and let her rip. You've already got Tam's sell setup. All you have to do is turn it around."
"Sounds good to me." Now he was swaying to and fro, humming tonelessly.
"Then let's get rolling. You hit AMEX and the Big Board; Tam and I'll see if we can't drop orders for a few blocks on Jeffries, the off-exchange network. We have to make waves at the opening bell tomorrow."
"Hear you talkin'. These issues gotta look like major movers." He was beaming from ear to ear as he revolved shakily back to his terminal. "Damn if I don't jus' love screwing the market."
We went to work, and for the next half hour we transmitted buy orders to the farthest reaches of the globe. Once they were posted, it didn't matter when they'd be executed. Even if Noda killed us, a hand from the grave would come back and destroy him. The time bomb I'd set would blow the minute the SEC tallied up DNI's new holdings. There were about to be a lot of rich, happy workers in this Land of the Free. But the one man certain not to be among their number was Matsuo Noda. Speaking of which…
"Mr. Walton, would you kindly explain what you are doing?"
I froze, realizing he was standing directly behind my chair. How long had he been there? I'd been too absorbed to pay attention. Stupid, Walton, extremely stupid.
"Tell you the truth, Noda-san." I wheeled around and looked him in the eye, shielding the screen. "Sometimes you have to make the best of things. Discretion's the better part of valor, so we're told."
"I'm familiar with the expression." He appeared less than convinced.
"Who knows? Maybe Nipponica is the way to go." We needed time, just a little more time. "In any case I'm a firm believer in riding the horse the direction it's going. So I persuaded Jim Bob to buy a few options for me. Trouble is, the guy's a little tentative on reality just now."
"Decidedly." He glanced over at our mutual friend, now typing away obliviously, then turned and moved on toward the water cooler next to my office. Did he believe me? Maybe he actually thought we would just roll over and give up.
Or possibly Noda was in that unconscious mind-state that goes along with real mastery in swordsmanship. When a Zen archer discharges an arrow, his concentration must never be on that shaft. It must be on nothing. And the same is true with swordsmanship. Your mind must be in its natural state, empty of distractions. So if Noda allowed himself to focus on the small stuff right now, he'd forfeit his "no mind" edge.
Well, we were about through anyway. The only thing left was to keep him occupied just long enough for Jim Bob to finish sending out the last of our buys.
"The sword was a masterful idea, Noda-san." I got up and walked over to join him. "How'd you manage it?"
"Mr. Walton, what exactly do you know about the Emperor Antoku's Imperial Sword?" He sipped from a plastic cup, eyes squinting behind his rimless specs.
"Probably more than I should."
'Then you will understand its recovery is a turning point in the history of Japan."
I looked at him and realized he believed it. Actually believed it. Matsuo Noda had become a legend in his own mind. Why tamper with perfection?
"Have to admit, too, the idea of using our international bank cover to gobble up America's blue chips incognito was a stroke of genius. Congratulations. You're about to scare MITI and the rest of Japan half to death. Not to mention the world. With DNI heading up the management, who knows what could happen? You can probably write your own ticket back home after this."
"Your friend Dr. Henderson's young colleague was invaluable."
Was?
Alas, poor Jim Bob. Did that mean he wasn't going to live long enough to spend the new fortune he thought he was about to make? Maybe Noda was planning to do half of my work for me.
"I guess a few of those phone taps you like so much led you straight to him, right? You were probably at least a day ahead of everything we did."
"Good intelligence is vital to any successful endeavor, Mr. Walton. You should remember that from Sun Tzu's classic Art of War."
The man was right on.
"All these dummy corporations." I was still running the stall. "A little stock bought by each one, the SEC will never suspect. You just roll trades worldwide, till-"
"As long as necessary."
"Who knows you're doing this?" Was it possible some rogue financier such as Noda really could pull a fast one on the whole world, use Japanese institutional money for whatever he pleased? "Have you cleared this with the fund managers…?"
"It was not necessary, Mr. Walton. I have long since earned the trust of my colleagues." Again he had a weird look in his eye. Matsuo Noda, I realized, was currently operating from a distant planet.
Needless to say, our dialogue hadn't done a lot to calm my nervous system. The obvious solution to Noda's secrecy requirements didn't include a lengthy life span for a lot of loudmouthed gaijin. Time to wrap up the stock market games and get back to swordsmanship.
"At this point there's only one problem left, but I suppose you've already thought of it too. If word of this anonymous takeover breaks too soon, the exchanges might just decide to shut down trading and stop you. Which means we're all a threat to you at this point."
He stood unmoving. "That matter will be addressed presently."
How soon, I wondered, was "presently"?
"But haven't you forgotten somebody? Bill Henderson. The man's no fool. The minute he figures out your play, which he surely will, he's going to start blowing word all over the newspapers. You'll never get away with this."
Noda smiled lightly. "It would be helpful if he were here now. Perhaps you could be good enough to arrange for it."
So with Matsuo Noda standing over me, Uzi next to my head, I called Henderson on my speakerphone. He picked up after eight rings.
"Bill. Getting rich?"
"Walton, what time is it? Goddam, you woke me up." He yawned into the receiver. "Jesus, I feel like hell. What's going on? Everything still looking okay?"
"Couldn't be better. Quite a party around here. Want to come back down and help us celebrate?"
"Well… what the…! It's after eleven already. Hey, let me check out the market first. Be down there in a little."
I looked up as Noda fingered his Uzi. "Just come on over now. Don't putz around with the market. We could use the company. And Bill…"
"Yeah?"
"This shindig's BYOB. So how about picking up a fifth of Scotch? That way we can all get into the spirit of things here on the eleventh floor."
"Walton, that's a hell of a-"
"I know bringing your own booze is not your style. But why don't you check in with Eddie, the security chief downstairs? He always keeps me a bottle of Suntory there in the utility room. See him about it."
"That Japanese crap. Matt, what are you talking about? You know I hate-"
"Just ask for Eddie, Bill." I cut him off. "Tell him Matthew Walton wants his black label Japanese juice sent up here immediately. Understand?"
I hung up before Henderson could say anything more. Such as tell me we both knew there was no such thing as "black label" Suntory.
"Guess he'll be here shortly." I turned back to Noda.
"He should be here in no time at all, Mr. Walton. Two of my guards have been posted outside his building since he returned there yesterday. For his own safety. They will bring him."
With that chilling bit of news Matsuo Noda proceeded to yank out the phone cord, then head back to his office. The Art of War. You leave nothing to chance. In fact his two sumo heavies were now standing outside my office, keeping a close eye on us. Guess he no longer had full confidence in Jim Bob.
"Tam, did you catch what just happened?" I'd walked back over to the terminals.
"I did." She was staring into space.
"Henderson was our best hope to get out of here alive. He has a suspicious mind the equal of Sherlock Holmes's. But now…"
"Matt, what's he going to do to us all?"
"Don't think it'll be pretty."
"Then…" She'd turned and was staring at the security entrance, wearing a quizzical expression.
I wheeled around to look too, and at first I thought I might have been hallucinating. A female figure was emerging through the doors, wearing an outfit whose style I couldn't quite place. Maybe it was one of those bulky creations such as Yohji Yamamoto or some other avant-garde Japanese designer might dream up, but it didn't resemble anything I'd ever seen before. Silk like a kimono, yet with a flowing quality. Ancient almost.
Then I had a vision, just offbeat enough to fit. An ink illustration out of the The Tale of Genji flashed before my eyes, and I realized I was seeing a hakama, something that hadn't been around the streets of Japan for roughly eight hundred years.
The woman in it was wearing peculiar makeup, not punk, though it might have been. It was pale, like the delicate ink shadings on a Heian hand scroll. She looked for all the world like a court lady of ages past; she'd have fit right in at some 1185 Heian linked-verse soiree. Old Kyoto come to life.
Is this the latest neo-New Wave? What in good Christ…
The only uncoordinated touch was the handbag, leather and starkly modern, with a lock attached.
Jim Bob gave her a glazed stare as she moved right past him, headed for us. The sumo pair was bowing to the floor.
Well, well, the Emperor's most devoted courtier had finally arrived. Into our presence on this day of days had returned none other than Ms. Akira Mori. One look at her eyes told me she'd come to kill somebody.