CHAPTER FOUR

Thursday 7:28 A.M.

"_Hai, so deshoo_," Taro Ikeda, project director, bowed into the red telephone receiver, using that breathy, clipped speech all Japanese reserve for their superiors. _"Kore wa honto ni muzakashi desu._ It has been difficult, but they have finally agreed on the revised schedule.

In nine days--"

He paused to listen, then continued. "_Hai, so_. There is no other way.

_Hai_. The Diet will never approve the treaty unless there is some dramatic symbol of the advantages of the alliance."

He halted. "_Hai_, security has been maintained here. With deepest respect, the problem would seem to be with your--" He paused again.

Now tiny beads of sweat were glistening on his brow. "_Hai_, we are ready. The vehicle is . . . _hai_." He bowed again. "Of course, there will be no delay. The revised schedule is firm. _Hai_, Mino-sama, we--"

He was bowing ever more rapidly into the phone. "_Hai_, we have pushed them as hard as we can." He bowed even deeper. "_Hai_, by tomorrow's report. Of course, Mino-sama. Thank you, _domo arigato gozaimashita_. .

The line, a high-security satellite link connecting the Hokkaido facility to the Mino Industries Building in the Ueno section of Tokyo, had gone dead. Tanzan Mino, CEO of Mino Industries Group, had other matters to concern himself with.

Taro Ikeda repressed a tremble. The technical part, the project here on Hokkaido, was going well; what was happening on the Tokyo end? First the delay of the funds, and now a rumored breach of security. KGB had intercepted the protocol. That was the word from his informant close to the CEO in Tokyo.

_Shigata ga nai_, he thought; sometimes things can't be helped.

Taro Ikeda was proud he had been personally selected by the CEO to be project director for the top secret Hokkaido operation. He was fifty- four years of age, a graduate of Tokyo University Law School, a twenty- five-year veteran, now retired, of MITI, the Ministry of International Trade and Industry. He was, in short, a mover in the New Japan and he looked it--elegantly graying temples, tailored silk suits, a small mustache to set off his high cheeks. At one time he had been the inside choice for MITI vice

minister, before the CEO offered him a chance to fulfill a vision no official source in the ministry could ever admit existed.

Overall, he told himself, the CEO should be pleased. He had carried out his own responsibilities flawlessly. And MITl was providing an unofficial umbrella of technical support, covering any unexpected requirements. Through this project the CEO had set into motion a plan that would soon alter dramatically Japan's place in the equation of world power.

Bushido, the Way of the Warrior. The element of surprise. No one outside Mino Industries knew what was really planned, not even the prime contractors for the project. Security every step of the way. And now the drama was ready, the curtain poised. Only a few more days, and a technological miracle would soar upward from the earth, symbolizing the first step in the realization of Japan's age-old ambition. The world would know the twenty-first century had arrived, the Japanese century. Mino Industries had made it possible.

The CEO's sense of timing was impeccable. Only last week he had approved Taro Ikeda's final briefing to Noburu Takahashi, executive director of the National Space Development Agency. NASDA, through contracts to the Space Systems Division of Mitsubishi Heavy Industries, was in charge of the major hardware of the Japanese rocket program.

Takahashi was also an executive of the new Daedalus Corporation, an unofficial "consultant."

Together they had traveled to the agency's space center on Tanegeshima, the island six hundred miles south of Tokyo, to monitor the shakedown launch of Japan's new H-2 rocket series. Although that vehicle was far superior to both the American Titan 34D and the European Ariane 4, it was a technological dinosaur compared to this project. This was unlike anything the world had ever seen.

The project had begun over two years earlier, when he was still director of MITI's Kokuki Buki-ka, the Aircraft and Ordnance Section.

An "anonymous" scenario--conceived by the CEO of Mino Industries Group, Tanzan Mino--had arrived on his desk, detailing a revolutionary proposal. Every director in MITI had received a copy.

The eventual "consensus"? It was too visionary, would aggravate Japan's already delicate relationship with America. The Liberal Democratic Party could never be seen to embrace such a project publicly.

Accordingly, MITI's parliamentary vice minister turned it down.

Officially. But that was merely _tatame_, his "public face." Afterward the classified moves, the real moves, began. Perhaps, it was hinted, if the idea were "explored" outside regular government channels. . . .

Top-secret feelers were sent to the Soviets.