Cure (2010) sam-10 Page 2

  Naoki feared that something horrendous had happened at The Paradise overnight and, as the general manager, it was his responsibility to be aware of everything. But it was something else entirely: something rather extraordinary. Narumi-san was calling to inform him that Hisayuki Ishii, the oyabun, or head of another Yakuza family, would be coming to The Paradise for an important meeting with Kenichi Fujiwara, senior vice minister of Economy, Trade, and Industry: a very high-level, politically connected bureaucrat. Narumi-san had gone on to say that Naoki would be personally responsible for the meeting to go well. “Give them whatever they need or desire,” was his final order.

  Relieved the call was not about a serious problem, Naoki then became curious why an oyabun of another Yakuza organization would be coming to an Inagawa-kai property, especially to talk with a government minister! But it was not his position to ask, and Narumi-san did not offer any explanations before abruptly terminating the conversation.

  As the hour neared ten a.m., Naoki began to calm down. All was arranged. The regular furniture had been pushed aside and a special table had been placed in the center of the main cocktail lounge on the second floor. Naoki’s best bartender had been hauled out of his bed in case there was a request for exotic drinks. Four hostesses had been summoned in case their services were required by his visitors. The final touch was an ashtray, along with an assortment of cigarette packages, both foreign and domestic, at each of the two seats.

  The oyabun arrived first, along with a cohort of cookie-cutter minions, all outfitted in black sharkskin suits, dark sunglasses, and spiked, heavily pomaded hair. The oyabun was dressed more conservatively in an expertly tailored dark wool Italian suit, worn with highly polished, English wingtip shoes. His hair was short and carefully groomed, and his manicure was perfect. He was the epitome of the highly successful businessman who ran a number of legitimate businesses on top of his responsibilities as the head of the Aizukotetsu-kai crime family, operating in Kyoto. He passed the bowing Naoki as if Naoki was a mere fixture of the environment. Once ensconced upstairs at the table, he brusquely accepted a splash of whiskey while distractedly shuffling through the assorted cigarette packs. As an added distraction, Naoki had motioned for his shift manager to bring out the women.

  Naoki went back downstairs to the open-air entrance to the street to await the arrival of his second important guest. Since The Paradise was open twenty-four hours a day, three hundred and sixty-five and a quarter days a year, there was no door, per se. Instead there was an invisible curtain of moving air that kept out the cold of winter or the heat and humidity of summer. The idea was to capitalize on public whim by making entering as easy as possible. It was rare for a passing Japanese man not to step inside, intending to stay just for a moment, and then to remain for an hour or two.

  The ground floor of The Paradise was a large pachinko parlor. Even at that time in the morning there were more than a hundred seemingly comatose players sitting in front of noisy vertical pinball games. With one hand they caused ball bearings to shoot up vertically before cascading down beneath the glass of the machines’ fronts. During the descent the stainless-steel balls smashed against various obstructions and byways. Pachinko inspired a near-fanatical devotion in many players, and though Naoki didn’t understand it, he didn’t care. The game was responsible for almost forty-five percent of the take of The Paradise.

  Down the street, he could see the black sedans that had brought the oyabun and his retinue. Among the Toyota Crowns was the oyabun’s own vehicle, an impressive black Lexus LS 600h L, the new flagship of the Lexus brand and of the Japanese auto industry itself. The cars were all parked in an obvious no-parking zone, but Naoki wasn’t concerned. The local police would recognize the vehicles and leave them be. Naoki was well aware of the unorthodox and fluid relationship between government authorities, including the police, and the Yakuza, as was certainly evidenced by the upcoming meeting he was hosting that morning.

  Checking the time, Naoki felt his nervousness return. Despite the slight pleased smile Naoki had perceived on the oyabun’s face when the hostesses had appeared, Naoki understood that the oyabun might consider his being forced to wait as a sign of disrespect on the part of the vice minister. To Naoki’s relief, however, the moment he turned his line of sight to the right, he was rewarded by the sight of the vice minister’s cavalcade.

  Bearing down on him half a block away were three black Toyota Crowns so close together as to be seemingly conjoined. The middle one stopped directly in front of Naoki. Although Naoki extended a hand to open the vehicle’s rear door, a team of black-suited men with earpieces jumped from the two other cars and waved Naoki off. Naoki hastily complied.

  Naoki bowed deeply when Kenichi Fujiwara stepped out onto the sidewalk. The man, who was dressed almost as sumptuously as the oyabun, hesitated briefly while glancing up to survey the ten-story façade of The Paradise. The five upper floors of the building were part of a love hotel, whose themed rooms could be rented by the hour or by the day. Kenichi’s expression was of mild disdain, suggesting the location had not been his choice. Regardless, he proceeded to enter The Paradise through the curtain of air by bypassing the bowing Naoki with the same disregard that the oyabun had exhibited on his arrival fifteen minutes earlier.

  As Naoki straightened up and rushed ahead to gain the lead, he called out to his arriving guests loudly enough to be heard over the racket of the pachinko balls: “The meeting is to be held on the second floor. Please follow me!”

  Upstairs, the hostesses were giggling and shyly covering their mouths. A moment later they found themselves swept to the side as the oyabun abruptly stood up from the table as he caught sight of the vice minister. Without complaint, the girls quickly retreated to the bar.

  Although the two entourages eyed each other with a mixture of disdain and a twinge of suppressed hostility, the greeting between the two principals was cordial and painstakingly equal, like that of two friendly businessmen.

  “Kenichi Fujiwara Daijin!” the oyabun said in a clipped, forceful voice, giving equal emphasis to each syllable.

  “Hisayuki Ishii Kunicho!” the vice minister said in a similar manner.

  At the same time they spoke they both bowed to each other at precisely the same angle, respectfully lowering their eyes in the process. Then they exchanged business cards, the vice minister first, holding out his card clasped by both thumbs and both forefingers while repeating a shallower bow. The oyabun then followed suit, mimicking the minister with precision.

  Completing the business-card ritual, the men briefly turned to their respective attendants, and with simple glances and slight nods of the head directed them to opposite sides of the room. At that point the oyabun and the vice minister sat down, facing each other across the expanse of the mahogany library table that had been found for the occasion. Each carefully placed the other’s business card front and center, exactly parallel to the table’s side.

  Without specific instructions to the contrary, Naoki, who was obviously not to be acknowledged, remained within earshot in case either of his two distinguished guests had any requests. He stood silently off to the side and tried vainly not to hear what was said. In his business, knowledge could be dangerous.

  After a series of pleasantries, reaffirming their mutual respect, Kenichi got down to business. “We haven’t much time before my presence will be missed at the ministry. First let me express my sincere appreciation for your willingness to have made the tedious drive from Kyoto to Tokyo.”

  “It was no bother,” Hisayuki said with a casual wave of his hand. “I had reason to come to Tokyo for one of my other business ventures.”

  “Second, the minister himself sends his regards and hopes you understand that he would have much preferred to have had this meeting with you instead of me. He was unfortunately called to an unexpected meeting with the prime minister.”

  Hisayuki didn’t respond verbally. Instead he merely nodded his head to indicate he’d heard. In truth the su
dden change early that morning had irked him, but for fear he might risk cutting off his nose to spite his face, he’d accepted the alteration. A high-level meeting with the government, whether it was with the minister or the vice minister, was too unique not to be taken advantage of. Besides, in many ways the vice minister was more powerful than the minister. He was not an appointee of the prime minister but rather an established civil servant. And Hisayuki was curious about what the government wanted, and even more curious about what they would offer. Everything between the Yakuza and the government was a negotiation.

  “I also want you to know that we would have liked to have come to Kyoto, but with the world economy and national economy as they are, we are continuously hounded by the media and felt we couldn’t take the risk. It is important that this meeting between us is strictly kept from the media. The government needs your help. You know as well as I, Japan does not have the equivalent of a CIA or an FBI.”

  With some effort Hisayuki suppressed a contented smile. As a born negotiator, he loved being approached for a favor by someone capable of helping him. With his interest piqued, Hisayuki leaned over the table to bring his face closer to Kenichi’s. “Is it safe to assume in this particular circumstance that it is my reputed position as the oyabun of a Yakuza family that affords me the opportunity of being able to help the government?”

  Kenichi leaned forward as well. “It is precisely the reason.”

  Despite Hisayuki’s attempts to avoid it, a slight smile appeared on his face, forcing him to contradict his mantra of showing no emotion when negotiating. “Excuse me if I find this ironic,” he said as he controlled his expression. “Isn’t this the same government that passed the anti-gang laws of 1992 now asking for help? How can that be?”

  “As you know, the government has always been ambivalent to the Yakuza, and those laws were passed for political reasons, not for law enforcement. On top of that, they haven’t been particularly enforced. More to the point, an equivalent to the American RICO Act has not been passed, and without such a law our anti-gang laws could never be truly enforced.”

  Hisayuki tented his fingers. He liked where the conversation was going. “The irony is that the anti-gang laws have not had as much influence on vice operations as they have had on our legitimate businesses. Would you be averse to looking into some of these specific circumstances if I were to help you and the government?”

  “That is specifically what we were planning to offer. The more legitimate the operation or company, and the freer it appears from Yakuza control, the more we can do. It will be our pleasure.”

  “One other question before telling me what it is you are requesting: Why me? Why the Aizukotetsu-kai? Compared to the Yamaguchi-gumi or even the Inagawa-kai, we are very small.”

  “We’ve come to you because you and Aizukotetsu-kai, as the ascendant Yakuza of Kyoto, are already involved.”

  The oyabun’s eyebrows rose slightly, reflecting as much surprise as confusion. “How do you know we are involved, and what exactly is the issue?”

  “We know you are involved because of the strong position you have taken in the relatively new company called iPS Patent Japan through your equity company, RRTW Ventures. With that much stock involved, we assume you feel, as the government does, that induced pluripotent stem cell technology is going to dominate the biotech industry for the next century. Most of us believe that within a decade or so these iPS cells are going to be the source of cures, not mere treatments, for a multitude of degenerative diseases. And they will spawn a highly profitable industry in the process. Am I correct?”

  Hisayuki did not move.

  “I’m going to take your silence as a yes. I’ll also assume, because of the size of your investment, that you believe Kyoto University was ill equipped to deal with the patent aspects of the breakthroughs emanating from their stem cell labs, because that’s specifically what iPS Patent Japan was to rectify and manage.”

  Kenichi paused again, but Hisayuki remained as immobile as a statue, taken aback by the accuracy of what he was hearing. He had no idea that the position he had taken in iPS Patent Japan was something the government would know about, since the company was still private.

  After clearing his throat and waiting a moment to see if the oyabun wanted to respond, the minister continued: “To say that the Ministry of Economy, Trade, and Industry is concerned that our nation is in peril of losing its ascendancy in this critically important field of commercializing iPS technology to the Americans would make a mockery of our true feelings. We are desperate, especially as the Japanese public has already accepted Japan’s ascendancy in the field as a point of national pride. Even worse, we have recently come to learn that there has been a critical defection of a researcher from the Kyoto University stem cell lab.”

  As if waking from a trance, Hisayuki straightened and blurted: “A defection to where?” The old-school Yakuza, like the Japanese extreme political right wing, were passionately patriotic. To him such behavior of a Japanese researcher would be anathema.

  “To America, of course, which is why we are so concerned: New York, to be more specific. The defection has been engineered by a start-up company called iPS USA, which plans to take advantage of the patent chaos in the stem cell arena and with iPS technology in particular. Although the company is reported to be in the ‘stealth mode,’ it seems that their goal will be to corner all relevant intellectual property in this promising field.”

  “Meaning they could end up controlling what promises to be a trillion-dollar industry, an industry that Japan rightfully should control.”

  “Well said.”

  “How much of a threat is this defector?”

  “Enormous. iPS USA teamed up with a Yamaguchi-gumi cohort here in Tokyo with help from some New York Mafia connections in order to carry out industrial espionage in Kyoto. There was a break-in at their facility—a university security agent was killed—and they were able to acquire the only hard copies of the defector’s work. These highly valuable lab books were irresponsibly stored in an unlocked file cabinet in a Kyoto University lab. It’s a complicated and potentially disastrous mess.”

  Hisayuki had heard vague rumblings about the Kyoto University break-in, even about the security guard’s death, but nothing about it involving the rival Yamaguchi-gumi. He knew there had been other attempted inroads by the Yamaguchi-gumi into his territory. In contrast to the other Yakuza families, the Yamaguchi, centered in the city of Kobe, flaunted tradition by being an expansionistic organization across Japan. But the idea that they were aiding an American concern by conducting industrial espionage in Kyoto was an outrage of the highest order. As the oyabun of Aizukotetsu-kai, he had to protect the investment in iPS Patent Japan.

  “Why is this researcher’s work so important?”

  “Because of what he did behind everybody’s back. As I understand it, he was working on mice stem cells and mice iPS cells as directed by higher-ups. But on his own time, he was working on human cells. In fact, he was working on his own cells from self-done biopsies from his forearms. As it turned out, he was the first to produce human iPS cells—not his bosses, who have taken credit. When he tried to point this out to his superiors at the university, he was ignored, then terminated, and then denied entrance back into the lab to collect his personal effects. Those personal effects included hard copies of his work that backed up his claims and that had been purposefully deleted from the university’s computer. The man was treated abominably, though by standing up for his rights, he has been ignoring Japanese custom. Competition in today’s academia, with its close association with industry, can be brutal.”

  “What do you think is going to happen?”

  “What is already happening!” Kenichi said indignantly. “In fact, how we originally became aware of this whole mess was internally, from the Japan patent office. With iPS USA’s help, our defector has already initiated suit against Kyoto University and against the validity of their iPS patents by retaining one of the most
prestigious patent lawyers in Tokyo. In contrast to his previous lab bosses, he had no contract with the university concerning ownership of his work, meaning he owns it and not the university. He now has a series of U.S. patents pending, which will clearly challenge Kyoto’s patents at the WTO here in Japan, as well as those held by a university in Wisconsin, since the United States recognizes the time of the invention, not the time of filing. They’re the only country in the world to do so.”

  “This is obviously an emergency,” Hisayuki snapped, with his face flushing. Inwardly he was bemoaning his decision to invest so heavily in iPS Patent Japan. If this scenario the vice minister was portending actually came to pass, the market value of iPS Patent Japan would fall to near zero. Angrily he demanded, “What is the name of this traitorous defector?”

  “Satoshi Machita.”

  “Is he from Kyoto?”

  “Originally, yes. But now he and his immediate family, including both sets of grandparents, are now quasi-domiciled in the USA and are fast-tracked to become legal residents. This all happened thanks to the collusion between the Yamaguchi-gumi and iPS USA, but mostly the Yamaguchi-gumi, who were responsible for getting them out of Japan and into the States. We’re not sure why the Yamaguchi would do such a thing, but it could be due to a financial association with iPS USA. ”

  “Where in the States is Satoshi living?”

  “We have no confirmed information. We have no address. We’re assuming he is in New York, as that is where iPS USA is located and he is a member of the company’s scientific advisory board.”

  “Does he have family remaining in Kyoto?”

  “I’m afraid not. Not immediate family. The Yamaguchi moved everyone, including his wife, an unmarried sister, and all four grandparents.”