That indignity completed, I was now in line for the real surprise. Yet another set of steel doors opened, and there awaited the man I'd been dealing with over the phone, Yasuhiro Tanaka. Medium build, late forties, cropped hair, automatic smile--he was Noda's chief of operations for New York. He didn't say much, just led me onto the floor, heading for his office. But he was clearly the on-site daimyd: lots of heavy bowing from the young, white-shirted Japanese staff as we headed for the corner suite.
Which brings us to the real shocker. Dai Nippon's floor operation looked like the flight deck of the Starship Enterprise. Let me attempt a brief description. In the far back was a massive NEC augmented supercomputer--a half dozen off-white octagonal units about head high, one the mainframe and the others storage modules arranged alongside in a neat row. Pure power. The whole thing was encased in a glassed room with (I assumed) critical temperature and humidity control. Then out on the floor were lines and lines of workstations. Computer screens everywhere, printers running, stacks of color hard copy--pie charts, bar graphs, spreads--plus terminals carrying every financial service offered by cable or satellite.
This was just the first, five-second glance. Incredible, I thought. There must be a heck of a lot more Japanese investment in the U.S. than anybody realizes.
But something had to be wrong here. Why should . . . ? Finally I slowed down--Tanaka was hurrying me along, clearly
annoyed that I'd appeared uninvited. That's when I noticed the rest. Across one wall was a line of projection TVs, on which computer data was being scrolled. As we walked past, I noticed that each screen seemed to be under the scrutiny of a team of analysts, who were intently studying the numbers, comparing notes, running calculations on their individual terminals.
What's this all about?
I stopped before one screen and studied it a second. Beneath it a small sign said simply "Electronics." The one next to it read "Biotechnology." Then I glanced at a couple of others. Each one covered a different industrial sector. Gee, I thought, you're really out of touch, Walton. Who would have guessed Japan has so much investment in manufacturing here. I didn't remember much going on besides a few joint ventures. Sure, they've got a few auto assembly plants, that steel plant they'd bought out on the coast, some TV-tube production, chips, VCRs. But mostly it represented entries into sectors where they're trying to get the jump on protectionism, start a token manufacturing operation here before they get shut out.
"If you have any questions, I'm sure we can discuss them later." Tanaka had taken my arm and was urging me politely toward his office. The whines and hums of laser printers and the beep of computers made conversation all but impossible.
"Well, I was merely interested . . ." Then I stopped.
Know that test psychologists have, the one where you look at a couple of silhouettes and describe what you see? If you think you're supposed to look at the white part in the middle, then you see one thing--I think it's a vase. But if you concentrate on the black instead, you see something else entirely, maybe the profiles of two human faces opposite each other. Thus what you see is largely a product of your prior assumptions concerning what you're supposed to be looking for. Or maybe it measures whether you view the world as a positive or a negative image, something like that. I don't recall exactly. I do remember receiving a B- in Psych 101, which was generous.
The point is, what I first thought I saw was actually the inverse of what was really there. I'd told myself what it was, rather than believing my eyes.
Dai Nippon was running analyses, bet your ass, but the industries under their silicon microscope weren't Japanese.
They'd computerized the financial report of every American company traded publicly and were now in the process of taking those outfits apart.
And I can assure you it was cold-eyed in the extreme, strictly hard numbers: quarterly earnings, long-term debt, inventory, stock outstanding, CEO bonuses. As any professional analyst would do, they'd cut right through a company's glossed-over excuses, phrases such as strategic retrenchment, aimed at the dividend-nervous retirees in Cedar Rapids. They were putting together the real story.
Same with the financial markets. Screens were scrolling up- to-the- second quotes on everything from three-month T-bills to thirty-year Treasury bonds. Computers were running arbitrage spreads on every issue. They knew exactly where they stood with all their futures contracts. I realized my little telephone boiler room had merely been the tip of some awesome iceberg.
"Mr. Walton, it is a pleasure to meet you in person." Tanaka was ushering me into the corner office after our pass through the floor. Unlike most executive suites in New York, its windows were sealed with heavy drapes. Again, total security. "Let me order tea." He waved at somebody out on the floor.
I nodded, still chewing over the setup and trying to understand what in good Christ was underway.
"I'm sure you are a busy man, so perhaps we should proceed directly to my concerns. As you may have guessed, we are almost ready to move into a new phase of our operation."
"Oh." I guess it must have sounded dumb, but I honestly couldn't manage a full sentence. Finally I recovered slightly. "I'm a little surprised by the scope of all this. What's the purpose?"
"Our president, Noda-sama, should be arriving in a few days. I'm sure he will be happy to address your questions in detail." Tanaka paused for the green tea, delivered by a silent girl--the young, smiling, uniformed Japanese "office lady"-- who scarcely looked up as she settled the tray on the desk. After she was gone, he continued. "This, of course, is only the financial nerve center for our operation. Our technical staff will begin arriving soon."
Technical staff? Then who were those grim-faced minions out there punching computers?
"You're bringing in more people?"
"Correct. Which is why I needed to see you. I understand that the lease on the floor above us is due for renewal at the end of this month. We would like to acquire that space. We will need to convert it as quickly as possible."
"What about the current tenants?"
"There is a rider in their lease, Mr. Walton, that permits the owner of the building to reclaim the space for his own use at the time of a renewal. We fully intend to make use of it. Consequently as our American attorney you are hereby authorized to inform them that their lease will not be automatically extended, that they will be expected to vacate. In accordance with the legal and binding terms of their lease. Advise them also that there can be no grace period. We will require the floor immediately."
I looked at him. So much for the current tenants. "What will these new offices be used for?"
Tanaka sipped his tea. "That section will have another managing director. Our range of operations here brings other responsibilities."
"What section, what range of operations?"
"I am regrettably not at liberty to discuss the specific extent of DNI's interests."
"Well, let me break some news to you. I like to know who I'm working for. So you'd better start discussing specifics and fast."
Tanaka seemed to be having trouble meeting my eye. The skull beneath his short-cropped hair glistened under the harsh neon lighting.
"Mr. Walton, you are now part of the DNI team. That position includes obligations I am sure you would not wish to take lightly."
"Hold on." The hell with politeness. "I'm not part of your 'team' or anybody's. I came on board with the explicit understanding that--"
"Mr. Walton, kindly sit down." He pointed without ceremony to a chair. I just looked at it, then back at him.
"As you are a scholar of Japan," he continued, "I'm sure you are aware that an employee's loyalty to his company is considered to be a gauge of his character. A company is a family, and one considers its interests in that spirit."
"Maybe you didn't notice, but I'm not Japanese. '_Nihon-jin'_
as you'd probably put it. I'm a _gaijin_. We usually work for number one."
"At the moment, Mr. Walton, you work for Dai Nippon. There is an assigned role for you, one that Noda-san expects you to fulfill."
"Maybe I just handed in my resignation."
"I do not really think you would wish to do that." Deadpan. The confidence with which he made that statement told me this guy could make a killing at poker. Unless he had a few cards in the hole I didn't know about. "It would hardly be in your best interest. We expect your contribution to be crucial."
"What contribution?"
"That will become plain in due time, Mr. Walton." He was measuring his words as he continued, maybe easing up a bit. "For now, let me merely say we know you to be a man with substantial curiosity. Consequently we believe that what lies ahead will be of considerable interest to you."
What was this samurai up to?
"Maybe it's time everybody put their cards on the table. And why don't we begin with you." I thumbed at the floor outside. "What the hell's going on out there?"