The Samurai Strategy Part 74

"Noda's new hired gun. We've been retired. Without even so much as a gold watch."

"He is the one responsible?"

"He's good, tell you that. Fooled us all." I settled onto the office couch. "Noda's got him and this supercomputer. Looks like good-bye America."

Noda's office door, incidentally, was still firmly closed, so presumably he wasn't yet aware of Mori's arrival. Were we about to see history replayed before our very eyes, that fateful battle of Dan-no- ura staged all over again, eight hundred years later, as a loyal retainer of the emperor fought to thwart the armed takeover of a would- be shogun? Wonder who was going to win this time around.

"Mr. Walton, this must be stopped." She was turning the

key on her new leather handbag, unlocking it. "I also insist you return your copy of the contents of that case. Having that is the only way I can--"

"Mori-san, not so long ago the contents of that silver box were very dear to our hearts, which is one reason we took the precaution of storing a facsimile on the hard-disk memory of the mainframe here. Now, there are about ten zillion files in that computer, so all you have to do is figure out what file name we used and you can just run off all the copies you want." I got up and faced her. "At the moment, though, there're more pressing worries."

"You are playing with fire, Mr. Walton." She glanced at the computer room down at the other end of the floor.

"No kidding. This is a tough game we've got going. Maybe you'd like to get an update from the other team too, Noda and his new crony."

"Are you saying he is the one?" She was pointing toward Jim Bob, who was now winding up the last dispatch of our new buy orders. I noticed it was the third time she had inquired.

"Don't take our say-so for it. Go ask him."

Without a word she spun around, leaving a cloud of exquisite floral perfume in her wake. Tell the truth, I rather liked the designer outfit, what you might call a real cla.s.sic. What I didn't care for all that much were the vibes. Very, very ominous.

As she strode toward Jim Bob, he watched her with an unfocused gaze. He apparently a.s.sumed it was all some costume-party gag. Definitely a major mistake.

"I am Akira Mori."

Probably by then he no longer knew what he was seeing. He revolved around, adjusted the Uzi leaning against the console, and extended his paw.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance. Jim Bob McClinton. You work for Mr.

Noda?"

"In a manner of speaking." She ignored the proffered handshake. "Is it true you are now in his employ?"

"I was. At the moment, though, I'm taking care of myself, American- style, if you want to know."

"Whatever you are doing, I hereby order you to terminate all activities in this office. Immediately."

Jim Bob just stared at her, not quite sure his brain wasn't playing more tricks. "Well, now, I'd normally like to oblige a

pretty lady like yourself, but I'm afraid I just don't have any intention of doing that." He grinned, eyes flas.h.i.+ng.

"Are you telling me you refuse?"

"You hear real good." He reached down for the Uzi, and his bloodshot eyes began to blink. "Far as that goes, where I come from we're not used to takin' orders from cute little t.w.a.ts. So the best thing for you to do would be to shake your a.s.s out of my way and mind your own business. Or maybe go talk things over with Noda." He thumbed toward the office. "In there."

She was opening her handbag, reaching inside.

Jim Bob, I was wanting to yell, this woman is neither "cute" nor "little." Above all, she is definitely not a "t.w.a.t." You are now face- to-face with a world heavyweight ball-breaker. Who may be about to take that Uzi you're so proud of and tie it around your scrofulous neck.

This game is way over your head. Can't you see where it's headed?

"Matt, what's she doing?" Tam bolted forward. . . .

Sad to say, everybody was too late, including Henderson. By probably no more than a second or so. I watched Jim Bob swing around his automatic . . . and then the lights went out. We heard the dull thunk of a silencer, followed by another, and next the sound of a chair cras.h.i.+ng backward, an Uzi clattering across the floor. It was indeed Dan-no-ura all over again, only this time the shogun's forces had just taken the first hit.

But at least Henderson must have eluded Noda's gorillas. How'd he do it?

Whatever had happened, he'd gotten the message. Suntory black. He'd had Eddie yank the master switch for the eleventh floor. He "blacked out"

Dai Nippon.

For what good it did. Not much, as things transpired. He'd only cut the overheads. The computer must have had its own backup power, some circuit that didn't run through the main utility room. The office was now eerily illuminated by CRT screens, still buying blue chips. As usual, Noda had prepared for all eventualities.

Gingerly we inched out onto the floor. Jim Bob was sprawled beside his console in a spreading pool of blood. Maybe he was still alive. Maybe not. Tam reached down to check the pulse at his neck.

"It's gone." She looked up, stunned.

Who was next? More to the point, where the h.e.l.l was Mori?

Then we saw her, moving like a ghostly figure in a _No _play, gliding through the bizarre lime-colored light of the terminals. We watched as she disappeared into Noda's office, trailed by the two dumbstruck guards.

What a standoff, I reflected fleetingly. The would-be shogun versus the Emperor's number one fan. This time, though, the Imperial side is hopping mad and loaded for bear. Wonder who'll . . . ?

There was, however, something more important to think about. The next few seconds could turn everything around. This was hardly the time for historical meditations. With deliberate haste we might even live long enough for some history of our own later.

In the dim glow of the screens Tam grabbed Jim Bob's Uzi, and we both dived for Noda's office. The door, happily, had just slammed shut.

Since it was the kind that opened out, all we had to do was shove a desk against it and they were contained.

Now, how much time did we have?

"The mainframe." She was staring through the green shadows toward the gla.s.sed-in room that contained the ma.s.sive NEC. "Matthew, we've got to shut it down somehow. That's the only way left to stop him."

"Is there an on-off switch?" Who knew how you went about disconnecting a twenty-million-dollar supercomputer?

"We're about to find out." She led the way.

The entry door was gla.s.s, half-inch, and locked. Beyond it stood the string of six-foot-high modules, off-white and octagonal, lined up like squat soldiers on flooring elevated about six inches above that outside. The nerve center of Noda's empire rested there on its platform, silent and secure.

"Tam, pa.s.s me that thing." I reached for the Uzi, turned it around, and rammed the steel b.u.t.t against the gla.s.s. Then again. It just bounced off.

"Harder."

"Okay, but stand away."

I hauled back and swing at it with all my might. With a sickening crunch the gla.s.s shattered inward, spewing shards across the icy tiles inside. An alarm went off somewhere out on the floor, but we just ignored it. After I'd punched away a few hanging pieces, we stepped in and up.

I handed back the Uzi. Now what?

"It's freezing in here." She s.h.i.+vered from the cold, then pointed down.