None of this would ever have been known from the light talk at lunch.

It was only when the meal was over, and the staffers had discreetly absented themselves with deep bows, that things finally got down to matters at hand. But even then, as tradition required, the opening was Japanese and indirect.

"Nogami-san," Sato Jiro said as he leaned back and reached for his fifth go of sake, "do you recall the famous story comparing the three great shoguns who ruled during that unsettled period surrounding the Momoyama? The tale says they each were once asked what they would do if they had a nightingale who refused to sing."

Nogami nodded and sipped from his sake saucer. Of course he knew the story. Every Japanese did.

"You doubtless recall that Ieyasu Tokugawa replied, 'I will merely wait until it does sing.' He was a patient man. Toyotomi Hideyoshi, by contrast, said he would prefer to try and reason with the bird, hoping to convince it to sing." He paused and smiled. "Sometimes gentle persuasion does work. But the great warlord Oda Nobunaga declared he would just ring the wretched creature's neck. He had no patience with disobedience."

"Perhaps Ieyasu Tokugawa's answer was the wisest, Sato-sama." The banker's eyes were defiant.

"He also enjoyed the luxury of time, Nogami-san. I suppose the pace of affairs was more leisurely back then." Sato set down his black _raku_ sake saucer and lit a Peace cigarette, the unfiltered Japanese brand.

"These days events do not always allow us such luxuries, no matter how much we might wish it. Sometimes it is necessary to proceed forcefully."

"There is always a problem when the bird finds the song is . . .

unsuitable." Nogami again sipped from his own saucer, meeting Sato's gaze. "When the notes are discordant."

Jiro Sato listened thoughtfully, appreciating Nogami's indirect and poetic answer. Then the banker went on.

"Ninjo, Sato-sama. For over three centuries _ninjo_ has been what made our brotherhood unique. Are we to forget that now?"

They both knew what he meant. _Ninjo_ was uniquely Japanese, because no other people in the world had Japan's sense of tribal unity. The Western terms chivalry or compassion carried only a superficial sense of _ninjo_. It was the inborn golden rule of Japanese culture that surfaced daily in expressions of racial togetherness, support and cooperation. It also was a deep-seated part of the Yakuza tradition.

Great _oyabun _of the past liked to point out that the Yakuza's honoring of _ninjo_ was what set their brotherhood apart from the American Mafia.

"The Yakuza have historically served the people," Nogami went on.

"Yakuza do not run dishonest gambling tables, even if the victims are to be gaijin. It is not the Yakuza way to perpetrate fraud, which is what the CEO's Eurobond issue amounts to."

Jiro Sato did not offer to refute the assertion. Instead he replied from a different direction, his voice soft.

"There is _ninjo_, Nogami-san. And there is _giri_. Which do you respect more?"

He knew he had just presented Nogami with a hopeless dilemma. _Giri_.

It was a word no _gaijin _could ever entirely comprehend. The closest a foreign language, or a foreign mind, could manage was "duty." But that pale concept missed entirely the reverberations of moral obligation in _giri_. One could never fully repay such indebtedness, even with one's life. A Japanese called it "the burden hardest to bear."

A Yakuza's foremost expression of _giri_ was to honor and obey his _oyabun_. The great _oyabun_ of Japan's leading Yakuza syndicates were more than merely godfathers. They were Confucian elders, patriarchs, wisdom figures who embodied all the traditions of the clan. Their authority was absolute and unquestioned.

Kenji Nogami owed as much _giri _to Tanzan Mino as any man could. The Tokyo _oyabun_ had made him everything he was; it was an obligation he could never fully discharge. One look at his face told how his heart was torn.

But as Jiro Sato studied Nogami's pained eyes, he was

torn as well. Tokyo was near to losing confidence in him. The CEO had just announced by telex that a team of _kobun _had been posted to London to "assist." But if the _oyabun's_ Tokyo people had to step in and solve the problem, a lot more would be lost than finger digits.

Finally Nogami spoke, his voice firm. "Perhaps you will be pleased to learn, Sato-sama, that I am prepared to make certain preliminary accommodations. An initial offering of Eurobonds will be formally issued tomorrow."

"That is a wise decision." Jiro Sato tried to disguise his surge of relief beneath a mask of unconcern. Nogami was going to go along after all!

"It will be for one hundred million Eurodollars," the banker continued.

"And it is already fully subscribed, in advance."

"Only one hundred million?" Sato felt his iron facade crack. "What purpose--?"

"It will provide the immediate funds I understand are now needed. After that, we can discuss further steps."

Further steps? Sato thought. Yes, the Tokyo _oyabun _would definitely see to it that there were further steps. His bird would sing. Or else.

Kenji Nogami was acting as though obligation, giri, had ceased to exist. But such things were not possible. Giri lasted forever. Did Nogami think the old ways no longer counted for anything?

"The debentures will be purchased by an American investor," Nogami went on, his voice cutting through the silence. "His name is Vance."

"I have heard of him already." Sato felt his anger boil. Vance, he knew, had the _oyabun's_ hundred million and was trying to hold the entire scenario ransom. What he hadn't known until this instant was that Kenji Nogami was helping him.

Well, he thought, perhaps the two problems can be solved simultaneously. An example is going to be made of Vance, an example that will also serve to provide a certain recalcitrant bird a needed refresher course in _giri_.

Yes, Jiro Sato thought, the CEO's _kobun _from Tokyo are going to arrive to find their work has been done. Enough face has been lost, not to mention three men. The situation is intolerable. The only way to regain the London office's tattered honor, to avenge its disgrace, is to resolve the Vance situation immediately.