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  “No, of course not,” Toshiko said unpleasantly. She poured beer into the glasses and then left the room.

  “Let’s have a drink, then,” Ogino said, raising his glass. “May life’s trifles be washed away.” He drank with gusto and then proceeded to untie the whisky package. “Johnny Red? Boy, this is better than beer—let’s try it.” He got up and took two glasses out of the sideboard. He was still standing there when he said, “By the way, what are you doing now?”

  “I’m carrying on a small business with a partner—selling electric massaging machines.”

  “Electric massaging machines? Well, I never . . . But can you make money out of such a thing?”

  “Well, actually, we aren’t making much profit, unfortu­nately. As a matter of fact, I was going to ask you something, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Don’t tell me you want to sell some of those massaging ma­chines to ageing executives of my company?”

  “No-no, I wasn’t thinking of that . . . I was wondering if you could possibly let us handle some of your own products?”

  “Aah, I see.” To give himself a chance to consider Segawa’s request he went outside and brought back a jar of ice cubes. “It’s better on the rocks, don’t you think? . . . Well, as for your suggestion, I can’t say our distribution network couldn’t do with some strengthening, and if your firm is soundly based there’s no reason why we wouldn’t be prepared to consider ap­pointing you as an additional agent . . . The only drawback from your point of view is that most of our products are for spe­cific uses and the number of outlets are naturally restricted . . . Anyway, we could have another talk about this when we’ve given the matter some more thought.”

  Segawa was pleased with himself. The conversation was moving in the right direction. For a beginner in the field of industrial intelligence, his strategy seemed to be working very well.

  “Yes, naturally,” he said politely. “In the meantime, perhaps I could have a look at your factory as a matter of interest?”

  “Yes, why not? I’ll be happy to show you around. Of course, you realise that a chemical plant isn’t terribly interesting, and when it comes to technical details, I wouldn’t understand them myself. In most factories the production process is visible from stage to stage, and amateurs can follow it to a certain extent. But when it comes to pharmaceutical chemicals, all you can see is a variety of coloured fluids and powders.”

  “Yes, I understand.”

  “Remember how we were forced to do chemistry at school? Well, I never liked it, and later went on to economics. Even nowadays, those tortoise-shaped benzene cores appear in my dreams sometimes and I break out in cold sweat . . . So far as the technical side is concerned, we have many excellent peo­ple on our staff, and we leave things entirely to them . . . You haven’t met my brother-in-law, Tatsuji Nishiwaki, have you?”

  “No, I haven’t. He’s Sadako’s husband, isn’t he?”

  “Yes—I’ll introduce you to him one day. He’s still quite young but already has a distinguished career behind him as a scientist. He graduated from Tokyo University’s Pharmaceuti­cal Department . . . I hope you don’t mind me boasting about my relatives, but if you’re going to handle our products one day, it’ll be worth your while remembering him.”

  “Somebody did mention to me there was a distinguished young scientist on the research staff of Shichiyo Chemical Company.”

  “Yeah? Where did you hear that?”

  “I think at Shima. When you have connections with Kabutocho, such things often find their way to your ears. I no longer work for stockbrokers, as you know, but I still have dinner with some of my old colleagues every now and then . . . I’m not sure when I heard it.”

  “Hmmmm. Then it’s quite possible there’s also a rumour around about the new product we have undergoing testing?”

  “I don’t know—I haven’t heard about that one. What new product are you talking about?”

  Ogino looked slightly troubled. Segawa was diligently swal­lowing his saliva.

  “This is top secret—I can’t give you any details, I’m afraid. It’s going to be rather an epoch-making product, we hope . . . But look, let’s not talk about business. I don’t believe in worry­ing about company affairs outside working hours.”

  Segawa knew it would be unwise to try to pursue the the sub­ject any further at this stage. Anyway, he’d already passed the first hurdle. The thought of this filled him with satisfaction. At the same time, he was slightly shocked by the realisation that his sole concern was for his assignment, and he had no feeling of guilt at all about betraying his friend.

  During the following three days Segawa was concentrating on the management setup within the Shichiyo Chemical Com­pany. For this he didn’t have to go to a great deal of trouble, nor was he in danger at any time. Using his experience and his re­maining connections at Kabutocho, he managed to collect all the basic information he needed.

  There did seem to be some tension within the top manage­ment of the company—Sakai was correct in this. Anyone with the slightest inside knowledge of the company knew that the current president, Yusaku Ogino, was only a figurehead with very little real power. He reached the presidential chair unex­pectedly on the accidental death of his brother, whose son, Shoichi, was too young at the time. Yusaku Ogino was not an incompetent man by any means, but he just wasn’t cut out to be president. Whether he himself had realised this, and whether he intended to hand over to Shoichi fairly soon—these were intangibles one could only guess at. The presidential chair was very comfortable, and once a person settled into it, it was only human that he found it difficult to leave it. But for a man of lesser talents the chair could become a trap, as Yusaku Ogino had discovered. Trying to prove himself in a job that was be­yond him, he made one mistake after another, with the result that his standing and popularity only further declined.

  Because of this, three strong personalities were slowly gravi­tating into a triangular position of power within the company: Takuzo Kurosaka, the managing director; Shoichi Ogino, ex­ecutive director in charge of administration; and Masanori Okamura, executive director in charge of technical operations.

  Shoichi Ogino was by far the youngest of the three, but he was widely known for his ability to make mature decisions that belied his age. He was also the son of a former president, and he had his father’s razor-sharp brain. The relationship between him and his uncle was not always happy, but he was neverthe­less counted as a supporter of the president.

  The managing director, Takuzo Kurosaka, had outstanding ability, but he gave the impression of being over-ambitious, and this caused many people to dislike him. There was a ru­mour that he was plotting to gain a controlling interest in the company with the aid of outside capital, but this was only gos­sip and couldn’t be confirmed. The hostility between him and the president was an open secret inside the company.

  Masanori Okamura, the director in charge of technical oper­ations, also had strong influence. This was natural in a com­pany so heavily dependent on up-to-the-minute technology. Furthermore, at one stage he had been Nishiwaki’s senior at Tokyo University. The presence of this brilliant young re­searcher here and the results he was getting had made Okamura’s position even stronger.

  Because of this, it appeared likely—to the outside observer, at any rate—that the marriage between Nishiwaki and Ogino’s sister, Sadako, was more than a love match. The only question was, were Ogino and Okamura in cahoots, or was Ogino play­ing his own game through Nishiwaki? This was impossible to judge . . .

  But Segawa was satisfied the Shichiyo Chemical Company was indeed one which provided an industrial spy with plenty of opportunity for action. Of course, until now he had never looked at the internal power balance of a company with this view in mind, but he knew from experience gained in his Kabutocho days that any company plagued with permanent confrontation in the board room was subjec
t to unexpected take-overs. Such a company had serious cracks in its armour—cracks which were ready-made for a clever agent to penetrate.

  Sakai seemed to be satisfied with Segawa’s progress to date.

  “It looks as if you know what you’re doing,” he said with a touch of admiration in his voice. “Re-establishing contact with Ogino and arranging for the inspection of the factory—yes, that was good work. Just continue on the same lines . . . I think I may even hand over to you completely this Shichiyo Chemi­cal Company assignment. I have another urgent investigation on hand . . . Yes, at least for the time being, just follow your own ideas and judgment. Naturally, I’m always willing to dis­cuss the matter with you when you want my advice.”

  “I understand,” Segawa said enthusiastically. “I’ll try to do as much as I can on my own. If I strike any real snag, I’ll send you an S.O.S.”

  “That’s it. And please don’t hesitate to claim all your ex­penses associated with the job . . . And when you’ve got the vital information the client wants, I’ll give you a bonus of at least 500,000 yen. The advantage of a small organisation is that the share of each operator is larger . . .”

  Sakai’s last words were very attractive to Segawa. A nest egg of 500,000 yen wasn’t quite sufficient, but it was large enough for a modest gamble in stocks. If his luck held and the market stayed steady, he might be able to go from there to bigger things. As he continued in his present job, he should be able to add steadily to his trading capital. Some day he might even reach the stage when his old dream of playing the market with tens of millions of yen could be translated into reality.

  The pleasure of having money, the admiration for it, the longing for it, and the misery without it—these emotions had eaten their way into Segawa’s bones long ago. He had been trained at Kabutocho where money is everything was the motto. He had the experience of going broke in his own business, of living a life of 200,000 yen a month and the life of 25,000 yen a month. It was natural for him to be many times more sensitive towards money than ordinary people would be. He wanted to earn money using all available means, and then let money earn some more by itself.

  The day after he had made the new arrangement with Sakai, he phoned Ogino and asked him if he could go and have a look at the factory at some convenient time.

  “You are a diligent worker, aren’t you?” Ogino laughed, glancing at his engagement pad. “Well, it so happens I must go out to the factory today, so this may be a good opportunity. How about meeting me here at the head office just before one o’clock?”

  Ogino obliged easily, Segawa thought. He didn’t seem to have the slightest doubt about the purpose of the request.

  A few minutes before one o’clock Segawa entered the Shichiyo Chemical Company head office, which was located in the Tachibana Building at Nihonbashi.

  Ogino was busy talking to a tall, shrewd-looking man of twenty-four or twenty-five. Sitting solidly behind his big desk, he was much more impressive here than at home. He really looked the part of the youthful top executive.

  “Ah, here you are. Come on in, will you? . . . This is Mr. Toshiyuki Fujita, of the secretarial section . . . Mr. Shigeo Segawa, an old friend from my university days—the one I told you about. Will you get him one of those plastic folders with the annual report, introductory brochure, product pamphlets and so on?”

  Fujita bowed politely, but somehow Segawa sensed unfriend­liness below the surface of his courtesy. He didn’t think this man could’ve guessed his real purpose and yet he felt a slight chill in his back.

  Soon afterwards they left in Ogino’s car for the factory at Senju. Fujita went with them, sitting beside the chauffeur.

  “When we get there I’ll introduce you to my brother-in-law, too,” Ogino said. “On first impression you’ll think he’s one of those typical research scientists with blinkers on—you know—only interested in their work, obstinate, unsociable. But in fact Nishiwaki is quite a broad-minded man with an understanding of life and the world around him.”

  “Is the research section inside the factory?”

  “Yes. We intend to build a completely independent research laboratory somewhere, but this is still in the future. At present the research section is housed in a separate building inside the factory grounds. Even company clerks can’t enter it now. This is since we’ve been told by someone who should know that in­dustrial spies have been hovering around the place lately. To me this sounds quite ridiculous, but the board has become rather sensitive about it over the past few months.”

  Segawa’s heart stood still for a moment, but he couldn’t de­tect any change in Ogino’s face.

  They were now travelling through the Senju industrial area where even on a sunny day the sky looked overcast. Soon the car entered the factory grounds which were surrounded by a high concrete fence.

  To the right of the main gate stood a two-storey building with the sign, strictly no admittance without per­mit, fixed to its entrance. The big red letters had a painful ef­fect on Segawa’s eyes. There was, of course, the gatekeeper’s box at the main entrance. As he was with Ogino, this time he had passed through automatically, but he couldn’t have done this on his own. From his position in the back seat of the car he was un­able to see if there was any guard around the research building itself. Almost certainly there’d be one sitting inside . . .

  As Ogino’s car pulled up at the main building, a young woman in a white lab coat came over to meet him. “Good afternoon, Mr. Director,” she said respectfully.

  “Hello. Is he free now?”

  “I’ll go straight over and tell him you’re here.” She bowed and left hurriedly.

  “She’s an assistant to my brother-in-law,” Ogino said as they were going up the steps to the front entrance. “Setsuko Kondo is her name.”

  Segawa recalled the young woman’s face—it had no make­up on it and looked rather naive on first impression. If she was an assistant to Nishiwaki, she could be the means of getting the secret formula, he thought.

  They had only been waiting a couple of minutes in the up­stairs directors’ room when Nishiwaki walked in. He was a stocky man of indifferent appearance, wearing very strong glasses. He looked obviously intelligent but wasn’t a handsome man by a long shot.

  As far as Segawa could remember, Ogino’s sister Sadako had a nature very different from her brother’s. She was a girl who fancied gay things and liked to play around a bit—she was somewhat similar to Toshiko Murozaki. No, it was most un­likely a woman of her type would fall in love with a man like Nishiwaki . . . The rumour that their marriage had been arranged seemed to have some basis.

  After introductions Segawa tried to exchange a few words with him, but Nishiwaki’s answers were abnormally brief and simple. He wouldn’t say anything unnecessary. This was proba­bly due to his nature or training rather than any consciousness of the need for caution.

  “And what’ve you been working on lately?” Segawa asked as casually as possible.

  “Oh, this and that—just plodding along,” he replied without showing any interest in Segawa or his questions.

  Ogino glanced at his watch and said, “Well, Segawa, Dr. Nishiwaki and I must talk shop for a while. Fujita has already arranged with the clerical section for you to be shown through the factory. Would you like to do that while we complete our business?”

  With a bit of luck he might be able to have a peep into Nishiwaki’s own room, he thought, but this was not to be.

  As the order had originated from Ogino himself, the clerks at the general office treated him with studied politeness. The chief clerk, Toru Onozuka, personally took Segawa on a guided tour of the plant. It wasn’t very interesting. Without any spe­cialised knowledge he understood little of the description of various processes.

  “As for the research section,” Onozuka said, “I’m afraid no­body’s allowed in, except the people who work there. I’m sorry.
”

  By this time they had completed the rounds of the factory and were on their way back to the general office.

  “Is that so?” Segawa said nonchalantly. “I was introduced to Dr. Nishiwaki by Mr. Ogino earlier this afternoon. What sort of research has he been doing lately?”

  “Well, to tell you the truth, I’m not sure myself. We know all about the products under manufacture, but we’ve nothing to do with materials under research or testing . . . As far as I can make out, Dr. Nishiwaki is working on a new medicine called something like ‘paramizol.’ This, of course, would only be a temporary name taken from the structural formula. I don’t think they would’ve chosen a trade name for it yet.”

  Paramizol, paramizol, paramizol . . . Segawa repeated the word several times to fix it in his mind. It didn’t mean anything to him, but one never knew—the experts might be able to make something out of a single word like this.

  Just at that time the face of the young woman in the white lab coat appeared in one of the upstairs windows of the re­search building. Yes, she was Setsuko Kondo all right, and the room was possibly Nishiwaki’s room . . . Could you make use of women and then drop them without the slightest hesitation? Sakai’s words were ringing in his ears now . . .

  After leaving Ogino, Segawa returned to the Shinwa Trading Company office. Sakai was sitting at his desk as usual, writing a letter.

  “Hello,” He nodded meaningfully and went on writing for a while. Then he lit a cigarette, put the letter into an envelope without checking it, and handed it to Miss Nakashima. “Send it by express mail, please—and that’s all for today.” He felt in his coat pocket and produced a theatre ticket. “Oh, I’ve got this from somewhere—you can have it if you like.”

  Miss Nakashima took the ticket eagerly and then went to get ready to leave.

  While Sakai was getting rid of the office girl, Segawa transferred his mental notes of the Shichiyo Chemical Company’s Senju factory into his pocket book in the form of a sketch. There was no question of ever sneaking into the factory and trying to steal the vital information from the research building, but he thought the diagram might come in handy for some­thing else.