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July 17, 2013 Leave a comment
He asked the waiter where he’d found the napkin. The waiter pointed to a table. Josh made him go to the table and show exactly where on the table the napkin had been lying. Mentally noting that information, Josh produced a substantial Swiss franc bill and gave it to the waiter, thanking him and telling him not to talk to anyone else about this. The waiter thanked Josh in return and went about his business of clearing the tables.
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Josh immediately found the head of security for the event, asked to see the surveillance video that covered the part of the room where the table with the note was located, and determined that an Asian man and a young woman who also looked Asian were sitting at the correct seats of the table, and that they sat at the table before anyone else, which meant they were probably together but not associated with the others. He scanned the guest list looking for Asians. Josh couldn’t find any Asian couples in attendance. Nor Asian women. The name that stood out, partly because he’d come alone, was that of Hiroshi Matsuoka. Josh, who was nothing if not thorough, had gotten hold of background information on each of the guests. He looked up Matsuoka. Matsuoka was not a high-ranking Japanese official, but he was one of only two representatives from that country at this meeting. The other one had apparently not come to the dinner. Japan was a large purchaser of US bonds, and would be affected if those bonds were downgraded.
Japan, like China, had to be convinced of the benefits of what Nordahl was doing. Josh needed to speak to Matsuoka, but he couldn’t risk offending him. Josh quickly went back into the ballroom and scanned it for Matsuoka. Not seeing him among the few remaining attendees, he went outside to see if the Japanese man was waiting for a car or a taxi. It took him only a couple of minutes to ascertain that Matsuoka was gone. Either to his hotel or out to party with the young chick who Josh couldn’t identify in the guest list. This was important enough that Josh needed to speak to Matsuoka—tonight. He retrieved his car from valet parking and drove to Matsuoka’s hotel. Fortunately, it was only ten minutes away.
Once inside the lobby, Josh approached the male clerk at the reception desk and asked if he could speak to Mr. Matsuoka. The young man, who spoke good English, looked up the room number, called it, and handed the phone to Josh. It rang and rang. Either Matsuoka wasn’t there or he was going at it with the girl and didn’t want to be disturbed. Josh apartamente de vanzare bucuresti was faced with the possibility of failure, something that wasn’t part of his makeup. He decided to give it five more rings. Finally, the phone was answered and a groggy voice said something incomprehensible.
Josh’s Japanese was rusty, but he tried to use a few Japanese words mixed in with English and sound upbeat at the same time. Mr. Matsuoka, this is Josh Hostetler. I work with Ernest Norman. Could I see you in the hotel lobby for a few minutes? It’s very important. Matsuoka pretended not to understand him. Josh repeated the request, throwing in a few more Japanese words he recalled. Matsuoka demurred. He clearly didn’t want to leave his room. Josh wouldn’t give up. After several minutes of back and forth, Matsuoka must have decided Josh wasn’t going away.
He agreed to come down to the lobby in five minutes. Five minutes stretched into fifteen minutes. Was Matsuoka going to stand him up? Josh, who was sitting in one of the padded chairs in the lobby, stood and went over to the desk. He attracted the attention of the clerk. Did you see Mr. Matsuoka when he came into the hotel tonight? The man nodded. I was wondering whether he had a pretty young lady with him. The man appeared to think for a moment. Then he shook his head. I’m sorry, sir, I couldn’t tell you that. Couldn’t, or wouldn’t? Josh could offer him money, of course, but he apartamente de vanzare bucuresti got the impression from the clerk’s expression that he was going to remain as silent as a stone wall. Someone was coming from the direction of the elevators. A quick glance confirmed to Josh that it was Matsuoka.
He looked disheveled; that was the kindest word Josh could think of. His suit coat was buttoned crooked, but the worst part about him was his face. He had a large red mark on his cheek that had been bleeding recently. Josh couldn’t remember seeing the mark in the surveillance videos. He’d been in a fight. Josh decided to use English, suspecting that Matsuoka’s English was better than Josh’s Japanese. He approached the man with a business card in his hand. He introduced himself, and they went through the ritual of bowing, shaking hands, and exchanging business cards. Josh pointed to a nearby couch.