“What was it you wanted to talk about, Professor?”
“Oh . . . yes.” So saying, Tadokoro put down the telephone receiver and, once more lost in thought, said nothing for a few moments. “That submarine at your place—if you charter it for a long period, how much does it cost?”
“Well, it depends, I imagine,” said Onodera, embarrassed. “Figuring out something like that would be beyond me, Professor.”
“Something else, then,” said Tadokoro, abruptly thrusting out a thick finger. “If I asked for it now, would I be able to get it right away?”
“I’m afraid that would be out of the question, Professor,” said Onodera. “The Wadatsumi is being sent to Kyushu next, to do a survey for the Kanbu Tunnel project. After that there’s an assignment from Indonesia waiting for it. And there’s still more lined up after that. It would take several months before your turn came.”
“This is for something of the utmost importance,” said Tadokoro, thumping the table with the flat of his hand. “Isn’t there some way that I can be given priority?”
“Well, sir, I can’t promise anything, but . . . how long would you have to have it?”
“Half a year. Maybe longer,” said Tadokoro, his stubborn expression showing he realized the extravagance of what he asked. “You know what I have in mind. The floor of the Japan Trench—I want to look over every inch of it.”
“A half-year?” Onodera shook his head. “It’s impossible, Professor.”
“What kind of situation is this? In all Japan there’s only one submarine in the thirty-thousand-feet class!” said Tadokoro, growing irritated at last. “Are we a sea-going nation or what? Incredible!”
“Well, once the Wadatsumi 2 is ready, then things will open up a good deal, but that won’t be until next year. Have you thought about chartering a foreign submarine? There’s—”
“I know all about foreign submarines,” said Tadokoro, inter rupting. He thrust a paper under Onodera’s nose. It was a list of all the deep-sea submarines in the world. “I want at all costs to use a Japanese submarine. This survey is intimately bound up with the national interest.”
Behind him, Onodera heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Professor Yukinaga entered, tie neatly knotted, jacket on despite the heat, but there was not a drop of sweat on his decorous features.
“Well . . .” said Yukinaga, smiling at Onodera.
“So you’re here. Will you have lunch with us?” asked Tadokoro. “Should we go out or have something brought in?”
“Either is all right,” said Yukinaga.
“Wait a minute,” said Tadokoro, jabbing the interphone but ton and bending his head. “No answer. They’ve all gone out upstairs. I’ll go get something cold to drink.” He went out the door and started up the stairs.
“The professor’s a fine person, isn’t he?” said Onodera with a smile as Tadokoro’s footsteps faded.
“That fellow? He’s a boor,” said Yukinaga, not at all jocularly but rather with a sigh. “He’s a rash, headstrong genius. So here in this country he’s persona non grata with the scholars. It’s abroad that he’s gotten his reputation.”
“It’s certainly an excellent laboratory,” said Onodera.
“It cost about four or five hundred million yen to build,” said Yukinaga, looking around. “And then the operating expenses are incredible. Once he launches himself into a project, the sky’s the limit.”
“Well, where does he get the money?” asked Onodera.
“The Church of the Seven Seas,” answered Yukinaga cryptically. “It’s a new religion. Its headquarters is in Greece. Making the sea your god is an ingenious approach to religion. They’ve recruited men whose business is linked to the sea—everything from fisheries to shipping—and they’ve formed sister churches all over the world. It’s quite rich.”
All this came as quite a surprise to Onodera.
“Professor Tadokoro is a man unhampered by scruples, you see. If he has research to do, then he’ll snatch money from the hand of the devil himself, confident that nothing will stop him from doing things his way.”
Tadokoro appeared at the head of the stairs. From his right hand swung a kettle covered with beads of moisture, and in his left he was holding a tray with teacups on it.
“Professor Tadokoro,” said Yukinaga, “I have some news. A classmate of mine, a very good friend, is a secretary in the Prime Minister’s Office. He just called me.”
“The Prime Minister’s Office?” said Tadokoro, frowning. “Some bureaucrat?”
“Yes. He told me that the Cabinet members intend to have a confidential briefing on earthquakes from a number of scientists. He wanted me to suggest names.”
“Bureaucrats!” said Tadokoro as though vomiting out the word. “The same old story. They say they want to consult a wide range of people, but the truth of the matter is that all they’re interested in doing is setting up a serene consensus utterly devoid of anything resembling insight. Since their abiding desire is to avoid risk, they shrink from any venture that might entail it, and so they have no way of grasping the shape of things to come.”
“I realize all that, Professor,” said Yukinaga, nodding his head. “Would you be kind enough to participate?”
“Me?” demanded Tadokoro, his eyes straining at their sockets. “Me participate? You’re out of your mind. Who’ll be there? —as though I had to ask. Takamine from the Disaster Prevention Center, Nozue from the Weather Service, Kimijima from the Ministry of Education, Yamashiro from Tokyo University, Oizumi from Keio—a crowd of that sort, right?”
“That’s right, Professor,” said Yukinaga, intimidated.
“And suppose I join them in the bureaucrats’ lair—what then? First of all, we’ll be talking to people who don’t know the first thing about science. And my colleagues, since they depend upon the bureaucrats for patronage, will be bending over back ward so as not to disturb anybody. And then, finally, who are these scientists anyway? They’re all splendid fellows. Each is tops in his field, but there’s not one of them who knows much of significance outside of it. This damned compartmentalization! Nobody knows how to draw the big picture, and they gang up on anybody who dares to try.”
“All the more reason, then, Professor, for you to do me the favor of joining in,” said Yukinaga, cutting in quickly. “The research you’re doing now—”
“The research I’m doing?” shouted Tadokoro, getting up out of his chair. “The research I’m doing now, you say? Suppose I were to talk about that—what would happen? They’d treat me as though I were insane—the mad scientist full of wild fantasies. Because as yet, you see, I haven’t gotten my hands on any unmistakable proof. And if you’re not careful about promoting me, it won’t bode well for your future. Even your friends will attack you, and your reputation will be ruined. No, I’ll not take part. Never!”
“What’s this about my future and so forth?” Yukinaga asked, his voice very patient. “Professor, there’s too much at stake for talk of that sort. It’s hardly worthy of you. This is something that is vital for Japan, something that—”
“Japan? Japan, is it?” said Tadokoro, his face suddenly becoming contorted as though he was about to cry. “As for the likes of Japan, it can go whatever way it wants, as far as I’m concerned. Yukinaga, I have the world, this marvelous world full of inexhaustible mystery and richness. Japan—this threadlike line of islands—what’s that to me?”
“But, Professor, you are a Japanese,” said Yukinaga quietly. “You love the world, yes, but you love Japan, too. If not, why have you kept back some of your data from the headquarters of the Church of the Seven Seas?”
“What?” said Tadokoro, his voice suddenly sharp. “How do you know that I’ve concealed data from my sponsors?”
“It was just a guess. Forgive me, Professor. It was unkind of me to trap you.” Yukinaga lowered his eyes and then raised them again. “And yet I have had occasion to wonder a good deal. I had paid almost no attention to the reports that you’ve been sending to the headquarters of the church. But, just recently it was, something in them happened to catch my eye here. It was very strange. The report dealt with our recent survey, and in it you went on at great length, tediously so, about various sea creatures and coral—something that’s not very much in your line. But any nuance relative to what we saw— which, you intimated to me, might well be something that threatens us—was smoothly concealed.” Yukinaga pressed the attack: “There’s something pertaining to Japan that you didn’t want foreigners to know. Isn’t that correct? Something that you wanted to conceal from the headquarters of the Church of the Seven Seas . . .”
“All right, Yukinaga,” said Tadokoro, his tone suddenly changing. “This conference or seminar or whatever it is of yours —I’ll give it a try. That is, if they accept your recommendation.”
“Splendid,” said Yukinaga. His shoulders sagged as he sighed in relief. “As for lunch, I’d like a bowl of rice. And now let’s have that cold drink.”