el.angeleyes-第20部分

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reason　behind　Kakuei　Sakata's　suicide。　But　now　she　knew　that　she　would　not　do　it。
　Honno　suspected　that；　at　the　very　least；　she　should　tell　her　husband；　Eikichi；　about　the　key；　because　some　sixth　sense　was　already　warning　her　that　the　Tokuso　should　be　notified。　Her　connection　with　the　Tokuso…the　Tokyo　District　Special　Prosecutor's　Office…was　a　personal　one。　Eikichi　Kansei；　her　husband；　worked　there　as　deputy　assistant　to　the　chief　of　the　Tokuso。　〃I　am；〃　he　loved　to　tell　her；　〃up　to　my　armpits　in　investigations　into　political　bribery；　extortion；　and　influence…peddling。〃　His　job　made　his　heart　sing。
　Everything　in　its　place　and　a　place　for　everything；　could　be　Eikichi's　prosaic　but　simple　philosophy。　He　was　a　supremely　organized　man；　a　scion　of　one　of　Tokyo's　best　families；　who；　by　virtue　of　hard　work　as　well　as　his　father's　considerable　influence；　had　gone　to　the　right　schools；　had　made　the　right　contacts；　and　had　ended　up　in　the　right　job：　prestigious；　enviable；　honorable。
　Eikichi's　mother　had　spoiled　him　while　he　was　growing　up。　But　because　he　wanted　to　live　up　to　and　even　surpass　his　father's　expectations　for　him；　he　was　a　fanatic；　almost　obsessive　worker。　From　the　time　he　had　graduated　university　in　the　top　five　percent　of　his　class；　he　had　been　on　his　own。　On　the　other　hand；　with　the　generous　annual　stipend　provided　by　his　grandfather；　he　never　had　to　worry　about　working　for　a　living。
　Eikichi's　world　had　always　been　defined　by　two　linchpins：　money　and　influence；　both　of　which　his　family　had　in　abundant　supply；　and；　with　a　good　degree　of　accuracy；　one　could　say　that　he　took　these　things　for　granted；　rather　than　seeing　them　as　the　blessings　they　were。
　Honno　knew　all　about　Eikichi　when　she　had　been　introduced　to　him　by　a　mutual　friend；　and　she　had　been　attracted　to　him　precisely　because　of　his　highly　structured；　rigidly　partmentalized　life。　She　had　never　had　much　stability　in　her　home　life；　and　the　idea　of　being　married　to　a　brilliant　organizational　wizard　struck　her　as　most　appealing。　Besides；　the　prestige　accorded　her　by　being　Eikichi's　intended　bride　changed　her　life　overnight。　Nine　months　ago；　from　the　moment　they　had　gotten　married；　her　phone　would　not　stop　ringing；　and　she　was　obliged　to　install　an　answering　machine　to　handle　the　flood　of　invitations　from　her　friends　and　associates　to　lunch　and　dinner　for　her　and　Eikichi。
　Eikichi　was　everything　Honno　could　hope　for　in　a　husband。　He　was　already　cool；　aloof；　displaying　all　the　signs　of　ittai；　that　special　intimacy　that　came　from　the　fusion　of　two　spirits　into　one。　He　never　praised　her；　and　would　never　think　to；　since　this　would　be　akin　to　praising　himself；　which　would　have　been　unutterably　embarrassing。　His　deep　male　silences；　his　coolness　to　her；　proved　the　existence　of　their　ittai　feeling；　their　extreme　intimacy。　Like　all　her　friends　her　age；　she　never　referred　to　him　by　name　at　home。　Rather；　she　called　him　〃Oto…san。〃　Papa。　This　was　not　particularly　her　choice；　but　what　the　culture　dictated　she　do。　Anyway；　it　was　difficult　for　Honno　to　put　into　words；　or　even　coherent　thought；　just　what　her　relationship　with　Eikichi　was。　It　was　ittai。
　Eikichi's　private　life　was　as　rigid　as　his　professional　one。　He　liked　his　meals　set　out　on　the　table　at　a　certain　time；　and　expected　Honno　to　have　remembered　and　have　prepared　his　favorite　foods　each　day。　On　those　occasions　when　they　went　out　to　eat；　Honno　was　expected　to　follow　his　lead　in　conversations；　and　to　know　when；　in　business　discussions；　it　was　time　to　remain　silent。　If　she　harbored　opinions　about　business　matters…she　was；　after　all；　the　personal　secretary　to　Kunio　Michita…she　was　to　keep　them　to　herself。　Every　month；　like　clockwork；　Eikichi　had　a　dinner　party　at　his　home　for　his　business　associates　and　contacts。　Honno　was　expected　to　arrange　everything；　and　then；　like　a　geisha；　blend　into　the　background。
　No；　the　same　stubborn　streak　that　prevented　her　from　confronting　Michita　kept　her　from　alerting　Eikichi。　Besides；　she　had　never　told　him　about　her　friendship　with　Kakuei；　she　would　never　have　known　how。
　The　key。　The　key　seemed　everything　to　her。　A　message　from　beyond　the　grave；　a　terrible　responsibility　thrust　upon　her。　She　felt　giri；　the　obligation　too　great　to　bear；　weighing　upon　her。　For　some　reason；　Kakuei　Sakata　had　chosen　her　to　carry　out　his　last　wish。　Why　her？　Honno　did　not　know。　Perhaps　when　she　learned　what　it　was　this　key　opened；　she　would　begin　to　understand。
　Sakata　had　been　a　plex　man。　In　their　frequent　talks　together；　he　had　impressed　her　as　someone　who　understood　the　subtleties　of　the　feminine　mind。　He　was　not　like　most　samurai；　disdainful　of　the　contributions　a　woman　could　make。　〃Times　have　changed；〃　he　once　told　her。　〃Women　were　once　thought　to　be　unclean。　My　father；　who　made　sake；　would　not　see　my　mother　for　many　months　during　the　crucial　stages　of　brewing　because　he　was　convinced　that　she　would　in　some　way　pollute　the　process　and　spoil　the　sake。〃　He　laughed。　〃Samurai　tend　by　nature　to　live　in　the　past。　But　the　past　was　not　always　what　it　was　cracked　up　to　be。〃
　Sakata　was　not　prone　to　deep　male　silences　when　he　was　with　her。　He　spoke　to　her　often　and　at　length。　He　seemed　to　derive　pleasure　from　these　talks；　as　if　to　him　they　might　be　a　form　of　intimacy。　Honno　had　listened；　answered　his　queries；　and　eventually；　at　his　prompting；　spoke　about　herself。　She　was　happy；　too；　to　be　with　him；　but　without　quite　knowing　why　she　should　feel　this　way。　It　was　odd　for　a　man　to　talk　to　her　so　much　and　in　such　detail；　as　if　her　opinions　were　of　some　value　to　him。　Kakuei　liked　modern…day　Japan；　or　at　least　admired　some　of　its　new　strengths。　''We　are　more　resilient　now；''　he　told　her。　''And　so　are　better　able　to　deal　with　adversity。　For　younger　people；　such　as　yourself；　there　are　perhaps　options　that　we　oldsters　never　had。　It's　only　when　this　newfound　resilience　is　abused　and　turns　into　corruption　that　I；　like　Mishima；　mourn　the　loss　of　the　old　Japan；　as　unpromising　as　the　blade　of　a　katana。〃
　The　truth　was；　they　liked　each　other；　and　she　had　counted　Sakata　as　one　of　her　few　friends。　Honno　could　not　fail　that　trust　now。
　She　felt　a　growing　terror　of　the　evidence　that　Sakata　had　left　behind　him：　the　dark　heart　of　the　maelstrom　that　had　so　abruptly；　so　cruelly　overtaken　him。　What　would　it　do　to　her　if　it　had　destroyed　a　samurai？
　But　she　knew　that　she　could　not　back　down。　Her　feet　were　already　set　upon　this　particular　path　and　there　was　no　turning　back。　Giri　dictated　that　she　find　the　evidence　that　had　destroyed　Kakuei　Sakata。
　What；　then；　was　she　to　do　about　the　key？　She　could　hardly　handle　this　situation　on　her　own。
　Honno　could　think　of　only　one　answer；　and　it　scared　her　to　death。
　Mars　Petrovich　Volkov　was　an　altogether　different　breed　of　animal　than　Valeri　Bondasenko。　For　one　thing；　he　wasn't　Ukrainian；　or　a　member　of　any　other　Soviet　ethnic　minority。　He　had　been　born　and　raised　in　Moscow…in　the　White　City；　not　so　far　from　where　Valeri　now　made　his　home。　Accordingly；　he　possessed　that　sangfroid　peculiar　to　Muscovites　which　only　a　Parisian　or　a　New　Yorker　would　fully　understand。　Everyone　else　would　have　resented　the　kind　of　arrogance　Mars　Volkov　exhibited　were　he　not　so　smooth　a　talker　and　a　genuinely　sympathetic　listener。
　Mars　Volkov　liked　to　think　of　himself　not　as　a　lifelong　politician　or　even　a　party　member；　though　there　was　no　doubt　that　he　was　both；　but　as　a　problem　solver。　〃I　am　like　a　cryptographer　in　the　KGB；〃　he　told　Irina　when　they　first　met；　〃locked　away　in　some　subbasement　of　the　Lubyanka；　struggling　to　make　sense　of　the　inprehensible。　But　unlike　my　somewhat　clinical　counterpart；　I　deal　with　real　people　in　the　full　light　of　day。〃
　This　was　not；　strictly　speaking；　the　whole　truth；　or　in　any　event　it　was　not　as　simple　as　that。　For　Mars　Volkov　sought　to　convert　the　subversive　into　the　patriotic。　Like　Valeri；　he　dealt　with　the　gray　areas　of　daily　life　in　the　Soviet　Union。　It　was　he　who　decided　the　new　coats　of　paint　with　which　to　cover　the　old。
　And　that；　fundamentally；　was　where　he　and　Valeri　differed。　For　it　was　Mars's　considered　opinion　that　the　old　should　not　merely　be　repainted；　but　be　done　away　with　entirely。　Valeri　found　this　idea　at　best　dangerous；　at　worst　subversive。
　Irina　was　up　on　all　the　latest　rumors。　It　was　all　well　and　good　for　Valeri　to　be　paying　lip　service　to　Mars's　growing　power　in　the　Congress；　but　Irina　knew　who　ultimately　held　the　advantage：　Valeri　Denysovich　Bondasenko。　These　days；　though　he　was　continually　trying　his　best　to　pound　home　his　views　to　the　rest　of　the　Politburo；　Mars；　like　all　of　Valeri's　previous　enemies；　was　definitely　ing　out　second　best。　Irina　wondered　how　long　it　would　be　before　Mars　was　removed　from　his　seat　in　the　Congress　of　People's　Deputies；　shipped　off　to　God　only　knew　where；　far　from　Moscow；　the　center　of　power。　No　doubt　that　would　be　determined；　in　part；　by　how　successful　she　was　in　the　aftermath　of　her　seduction。
　Mars　Volkov　looked　like　a　movie　star。　A　Russian　movie　star；　to　be　sure；　but　a　movie　star　nonetheless。　He　was　tall　and　slim；　with　the　pale　eyes　and　high　cheekbones　mon　to　the　people　of　the　windswept　northern　Steppes。　His　hair　was　blue…black；　very　straight；　and　he　wore　it　slicked　back　from　his　wide　forehead。　He　had　a　generous；　thin…lipped　mouth；　and　a　firm　chin。　His　only　oddity　was　his　rather　small　ears。　But　this　lack　of　perfection　somehow　enhanced　his　overall　appearance；　rather　than　detracted　from　it。　In　sum；　he　was　more　than　attractive；　he　was　desirable。
　This　made　the　task　Valeri　had　given　Irina　far　less　odious。　But　in　the　beginning　it　was　almost　irrelevant。　What　drove　her…　Valeri　was　so　right；　damn　him！…was　the　sense　of　absolute　freedom　she　gained　by　initiating　the　contact　with　Mars　Volkov。　She　orchestrated　his　subsequent　seduction　with　the　aplomb　of　someone　born　to　the　role。　By　the　time　they　went　to　bed　for　the　first　time；　Irina　was　giddy　with　her　newfound　sense　of　freedom；　but　also　a　little　afraid　by　how　much　pleasure　she　derived　from　this　act　of　treachery。
　She　was　no　longer　one　among　many　coworkers　at　the　Ministry　of　Education；　some　drudge；　given　work　no　man　would　do；　accorded　a　minimum　of　recognition　for　either　her　initiative　or　her　innovations。　Up　until　this　moment　of　separation；　she　had　seen　herself　only　in