"So?"
"Okay, now compare that list with the R&D areas targeted in Ikeda's memo." I laid Tarn's translation down next to Mori's pages. "See?
Everything on Ikeda's MITI wish list for research in semiconductors is now being done by the American outfits named here in Mori's sorting, which is the latest revision in DNI's acquisition program."
"What are you getting at?" He looked it over.
"It's a pattern." Tam spoke up. "These new buy-ups cover j.a.pan's last remaining shortfalls in R&D. I spotted it right away. But what I didn't realize till we got these memos was that the areas covered by Mori's companies exactly dovetail with MITI's goals. I probably wouldn't have noticed it without her sorting. Mixed in with all the other companies Noda's buying, he's targeted those that fill the gaps in MlTI's semiconductor push."
Jack looked at us quizzically. "Are you telling me MITI's behind Noda's program?"
That's where Tam and I parted company. She argued it was obviously a MITI play: why start from scratch when you can just buy what you need?
Sound business investment. For some reason, though, I wasn't so sure.
Somehow that explanation seemed too simplistic. Unfortunately, however, there's a law in science or somewhere that says you should always pick the least-complicated theory that fits all your data. Hers appeared on the face of it to address the facts perfectly. Except for one unknown: if Mori did "accidentally" feed me the sorting that blew the whistle on Noda's design, why?
"I think this has to be what the buying program on this list is all about," Tam answered. "He's taking over firms whose R&D coincides with MITI's targets. Matsuo Noda has been put to work simply acquiring what they need, but to make sure n.o.body suspects the real agenda, he's worked up this elaborate 'management a.s.sistance' story, buying all kinds of companies." Her voice was bitter. "The next step will be to set up joint ventures between these firms he's bought and their counterparts in j.a.pan. Then all American R&D would be shared."
"Which means"--Jack's face began to redden--"that since we always seem to lose out when it comes to commercializing what we invent, the U.S. ends up becoming one big think tank for j.a.pan in the twenty-first century.
We do the research, and they manufacture and market. They pick our brains and then cash in on it." He turned back to Tam. "Do you really think it was Noda who planned all this?"
"I wish I knew what to think." Her voice grew hesitant as she continued to stare down at the memo. "It's hard to believe Ken would do something so unethical--especially a grab like this--when I'm sure he's convinced j.a.pan ought to be advancing its own R&D."
"Ken? Who's--"
"Did you see who auth.o.r.ed that second memo?" She pointed to the name.
"Kenji Asano is apparently a close friend of Dr. Richardson's," I broke in, my tone unnecessarily sharp. "Unfortunately, he seems to be an even closer friend of his cronies at MITI."
Tam didn't respond, just sat there looking betrayed.
"Matt, let's be constructive here." Jack walked over and shook the coffee pot, then sloshed the last dregs into his cup. "We d.a.m.n well ought to take some kind of action."
"That's why we wanted to talk to you." Tam came back to life. "Do you think you could leak something about this? Maybe to the Times?"
"And say what?" He laughed, a little sadly. "That I've happened across a set of secret MITI memos that bear a coincidental similarity to some stolen DNI printout? Don't think that's exactly 'Fit to Print.'" He frowned. "But I'm glad our Mr. Noda has finally let slip his true intentions. I never believed all that pious malarkey about propping up American industry." He snorted. "The man gets a few suckers like you to help him destabilize our bond markets, in the process of which he turns the high-tech sector of American industry into a bargain bas.e.m.e.nt for MITI."
Tam sipped her coffee, maybe trying to act as if Jack's comment hadn't stung her the way I suspected it did. I decided to try and handle her defense.
"Jack, hold on a second. You've got to admit that a lot of these outfits Dai Nippon is buying are currently on pretty thin ice. If somebody doesn't come in here and help run them right, they're probably headed offsh.o.r.e anyway."
"We're not talking about first aid now, Walton. We're talking about Matsuo Noda taking over the most strategic segment of our economy after pulling the biggest scam in the history of world finance."
"That looks to be the story." I watched his cheeks redden with frustration. "So what do you propose we do? There's no law against foreign investment. Securities exist to be bought."
"Well, dammit, Matt, we've both seen enough by now to realize this Noda genius is up to no good. We've got to stop him."
"Couldn't agree more. So why don't you just arrange to have the SEC shut down trading in every stock DNI has in its gunsights."
"You know that's out of the question."
"Exactly. So what legal remedies are there? How do you squelch a takeover program that's not even against the law?"
"That's your specialty, counselor, or so I hear."
"Jack, be realistic. We can expose this thing, maybe even try and lean on Tokyo to back off, but aside from shutting down trading there's no legal way to actually stop Matsuo Noda from buying whatever he likes.
You can't shut j.a.panese investors out of Wall Street. There'd be a riot downtown. We're talking about the open market here, not some inside deal."
"Forget legalities." He scowled. "Tell me how your d.a.m.ned corporate raiders go about shenanigans that don't quite match the letter of the law."
"Jack, I've officially quit the business. Retired. Guess you hadn't heard."
"That's what you think. You just got un-retired. As of this moment. Now give me one of those high-priced consultations you're so famous for."
"For you, Jack." I looked him over. "One last play. Trouble is, there's not much that's do-able, at least on short notice."
"You say 'not much.' Which means there's something."
"Well, one possibility might be to try and slow him down
some, make him think twice, say, by punching up the prices of the stocks he's aiming at. Make them less of a bargain."
"That's a start."
"Not much of one."
"Well, how could it be done?"
"Since you're such a Boy Scout, Jack, you probably won't like what I have in mind. This one's not exactly in the rule book."
"Try me."
"Okay, it's a long shot, and we'll definitely need some help. If we're going to tinker with the market, then we have to have somebody Wall Street trusts. And also somebody who's got a lot of money to play with, short term."
"Sounds like our mutual friend from Georgia."
"Well, Henderson can play the Street like a symphony. What I'm thinking of involves tricking the smartest guys around, the 'risk arbs.' We'd need to suck them in. If anybody can do it, he's the man."
"Then I say let's give him a buzz."
"Fine. Why don't I get him on the squawk box so we can all listen in."
There beside the couch was an old conference phone some client once gave me as a Hanukkah gift. At long last it might be good for something.
The risk arbs, by the way, are the risk arbitrageurs, those speculators who live with one ear to the ground. The minute they hear word, inside or otherwise, that a company is "in play," meaning it's a candidate for a possible takeover or merger, they immediately grab up and stockpile huge blocks of its publicly traded shares. Then they sit back and pray for a bidding war. Since company A has offered so much a share for company Z, maybe company B will step in and offer more. Or maybe company Z itself will outbid them both and offer even more in a stock buyback. They're the hyenas of the hunt, getting plenty of leftovers no matter who ends up buying Z. Besides, they don't really care anyway.
They're not investing in American industry, they're laying side bets.
Tam and Jack settled back while I punched in Bill's number.
The doctor was in, and after a few profane formalities-- tempered when we informed him of a female presence--he listened with uncharacteristic attentiveness. I gave him an