pjbooks Chapter 105 The Lizard's Severed Tail
Chapter 105 The Lizard's Severed Tail
July 6, 1988, 8 p.m.
Tokyo, Akasaka.
Akasaka at night is a labyrinth, with countless ryotei (traditional Japanese restaurants) draped with blank lanterns hidden behind black walls. This is the "Okunoin" (inner chamber) of Japanese politics, the true secret chamber that decides the fate of the nation.
The restaurant is "Kou Yue".
A black Toyota Century slid into the back alley, its tires crunching over the wet cobblestones, splashing water in the process.
The waiter, who had been waiting at the back door, bowed deeply until the car door opened and the short, stout old man in a dark kimono stepped out. Only then did he dare to straighten up and quickly lead the way.
The private room is named "Pine Breeze".
The air here is thick and murky, a mixture of expensive incense, aged tatami mats, and strong cigar aromas. The air conditioner in the corner runs silently, but it can't dispel the low-pressure atmosphere hanging overhead.
Takeshita Noboru sat in the lower seat.
As the current Prime Minister, he acted like a schoolboy who had done something wrong. An exquisite kaiseki meal was laid out before him, but he didn't even touch his chopsticks.
Seated in the main seat is Shin Kanemaru, Secretary-General of the Liberal Democratic Party and the true mastermind behind the Takeshita faction (Keisekai).
The old man, known as the "godfather of politics," squinted, a large Cuban cigar between his fingers. The bluish-gray smoke swirled around his wrinkled face, making him look like a statue enshrined in fireworks.
In the shadows of the room sat a younger man. He had his arms crossed and his eyes were sharp; he was Ichiro Ozawa, the deputy secretary-general of the Liberal Democratic Party.
"Did they get to the bottom of that Asahi Shimbun reporter?"
Shin Kanemaru's voice was hoarse, rough and calloused from years of smoking and drinking. He didn't look at Takeshita Noboru, but stared at the glass of shochu in his hand.
"I checked."
Takeshita Noboru's voice was a little hoarse. He picked up his teacup to moisten his throat, only to find that the tea had gone cold.
"His name is Yamamoto, and he covers social news. But the information he has is too solid. Remittance slips, receipts, even the middleman's diary... These are things that no other reporter could dig up."
"Someone is feeding them."
Shin Kanemaru exhaled a smoke ring, which bounced off the screen and slowly dissipated.
"And it's someone from inside."
The room fell into a deathly silence. Only the occasional sharp "clang" of a startled deer in the courtyard made the silence seem even more jarring.
"Ichiro Osawa?" Takeshita asked in a low voice, the name rolling on his tongue with an undisguised hatred.
"Besides him, who else has the motive? Who else has the ability to access those ledgers?" Kanemaru Shin sneered, his fat twitching. "It seems he's determined to split up the family."
He stretched out his short, stubby fingers and tapped lightly on the edge of the ashtray, shaking off a long piece of ash.
"That Saionji family..." Takeshita Noboru hesitated for a moment, his gaze shifting, "The IRS came up empty-handed. Their accounts were meticulously prepared, completely according to American standards. Now that Osawa has money, the young members of parliament are restless. I heard that more than twenty of them went to the ANA Hotel last night."
"Let's put the money aside for now."
Shin Kanemaru raised his hand, interrupting Noboru Takeshita.
"The most urgent task now is to stop the bleeding."
He leaned forward, and his previously cloudy old eyes suddenly opened.
"The fire has already started, and it's impossible to extinguish it completely. In that case, we can only cut off the burning part."
Takeshita Noboru's body stiffened for a moment.
"You mean...?"
"secretary."
Shin Kanemaru uttered two words.
"Make all the involved legislators give the same story. All the stock transactions were conducted by the secretary without her knowledge, in order to raise political funds. The politician himself knew nothing about it."
This is the famous "lizard tail" incident in Japanese politics.
As long as the blame is shifted to the secretary, the politician will at most bear a moral responsibility for "inadequate oversight," but will not face criminal charges. As for those secretaries... they are retainers, scapegoats, and the master's bulletproof vest. They will go to jail, or... use more extreme methods to protect their master's innocence.
Takeshita Noboru's face turned deathly pale instantly.
His hand trembled, and the water in his teacup spilled onto his expensive trousers.
His chief secretary, Aoki Itahira, had been with him for thirty years. He had been with him since he was a prefectural assemblyman, serving not only as his secretary but also as his housekeeper, treasurer, and a family member who had watched his children grow up.
Takeshita and the others' faces turned somewhat ferocious, and they lowered their heads.
After a moment, he gritted his teeth and said in a trembling voice.
"I'll talk to Aoki about it."
"Not just Aoki."
Ignoring Takeshita Noboru's pain, Shin Kanemaru forcefully stubbed out his half-smoked cigar in the ashtray until the embers were completely extinguished.
"People on Nakasone's side and people on Miyazawa's side should all do this. We need to create a firewall. As long as the prosecutor's office can't trace it back to the politician himself, you can still cling to life."
"If we can weather this storm and force the passage of the Consumption Tax Bill, we'll have leverage to renegotiate with the business community. Then we can deal with that disobedient Saionji family."
When Saionji was mentioned, a hint of hostility flashed in Kanemaru Shin's eyes.
He picked up the Asahi Shimbun on the table and looked at the photo of Shuichi Saionji being surrounded by reporters at the entrance of The Club.
"Hmph, those brats from the old aristocracy, thinking they can run rampant in Nagata Town just because they have money?"
He turned to look at Ichiro Ozawa, who had remained silent.
"Xiaoze, aren't your people in charge of the Construction Province?"
Ichiro Ozawa nodded: "It's Director Noda."
"The Saionji family has recently bought quite a few properties in Ginza and Akasaka, and I heard they're planning a large-scale renovation?"
"Yes. The Akasaka project will be completed next month."
"Notify the Ministry of Construction and the Fire and Rescue Agency."
Kanemaru Shin stood up and straightened his haori, which was free of wrinkles.
"With frequent earthquakes recently, in order to ensure the safety of the people, we are conducting strict earthquake resistance and fire safety inspections on all large-scale construction projects."
"Especially the Saionji family's projects."
A cruel smile curled at the corner of his mouth.
"As long as their construction sites remain closed, the daily bank interest will drain them dry. I want to see whether they have more money or the power of the state's seal."
……
It's 11 p.m.
Nagata Town, the official residence of the Prime Minister.
Takeshita Noboru sat in the study.
On the table was a cup of green tea that had gone cold, and a prepared statement.
"Thump, thump".
A knock sounded on the door. It was very soft and restrained.
"Come in."
The door was pushed open, and Aoki Itsuki walked in.
He was a thin, kind-faced middle-aged man. He was wearing his old suit that he had worn for many years, holding a notebook in his hand, and standing in front of the table as usual, ready to record the Prime Minister's instructions at any time.
"Prime Minister, you haven't rested yet?" Aoki's voice was gentle. "There's a cabinet meeting tomorrow morning..."
"Ippei."
Noboru Takeshita interrupted him.
He didn't look up; his gaze remained fixed on the statement on the table.
"How many years have you been with me?"
Aoki paused for a moment, then smiled and said, "Thirty years, Prime Minister. From the first time you were elected as a member of the Shimane Prefectural Assembly."
Thirty years...
Takeshita Noboru sighed, his voice filled with deep weariness.
"We were both young then. You said you would help me make this country a better place."
"Yes. This is my lifelong ambition." Aoki's eyes remained clear.
Takeshita Noboru finally raised his head.
He looked at his old friend who had been with him for half his life, at the white hair at his temples, and at his bloodshot eyes that were filled with the marks of long hours of hard work.
He couldn't bear to look and turned his head away.
"Yiping, now... the Party needs you. The country needs you."
Takeshita Noboru slowly pushed the draft statement in front of Aoki.
It was just a thin sheet of paper, yet Takeshita Noboru seemed to have used all his strength to make it work.
That was the instruction manual for Recruit stock trading. Every line of it placed all the blame on the excuse of "the secretary acting without authorization."
Aoki Ihei looked down at the document.
He didn't speak.
The room was deathly silent, save for the ticking of the clock.
After a long while, Aoki reached out and picked up the document. His hands were steady, so steady it was heartbreaking.
"I understand, Prime Minister."
Aoki's voice was as calm as if he were reporting tomorrow's work arrangements.
"This was all due to my own greed. I accepted those stocks behind your back, using your name. You were completely unaware."
Takeshita Noboru's eyes reddened. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but found that his throat felt blocked.
"Please rest assured."
Aoki bowed deeply.
"I will clean up all the ledgers. I will absolutely not let the fire touch you."
"Yiping..."
"If you can implement the consumption tax, the country's finances will be saved." Aoki straightened up, a slight smile even appearing on his face. "My sacrifice will be worthwhile."
After he finished speaking, he turned and walked towards the door.
His steps remained steady, and his back remained upright.
"Bang."
The door closed.
Takeshita Noboru slumped in his chair, covering his face with his hands.
A drop of murky liquid slipped through his fingers.
But he didn't make a sound.
......
It rained harder and harder.
The lights of Tokyo became blurred in the dense rain, like patches of melted oil paint, mottled and indistinct.