© 2014 Gold
Title: Beyond: A Tribute – Part Eighteen: Never Easy, Part 3
Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis and New Prince of Tennis are created by Konomi Takeshi-san. This work is a piece of fanfiction and no part of it is attributed to Konomi-san or any other entity holding any rights associated with and arising out of Prince of Tennis or New Prince of Tennis. This was written purely out of fanservice and it is not to be used for profit or any false association with Konomi-san or aforesaid entities.
Author's Notes:
1. As this story is set in 2010, one of the best Cabernet Sauvignon from the US from that year was 2007's vintage, from Stag's Leap, Cask 23.
2. A quick salute to CLAMP and to Somerset Maugham.
3. Okay, this is not one of my favourite chapters. It's just that it had to be written. I couldn't ditch it. I know there's a better way of writing this, but at press time (so to speak), I had not been enlightened, so we're all stuck with this version.
4. The bonds in Prince of Tennis keep me going.
5. I was taught that corporate governance matters and is critical.
6. At times, I may use archaic English, for example, someone who must needs deal with this, or that. I cannot remember where I read it or how I picked up on it, but I am certain I did not invent this off my own bat.
Part Eighteen - Never Easy, part 3
It was never going to be easy.
Cut-crystal and silver at his fingertips, a decanter of some very fine cabernet sauvignon at his elbow, Atobe Keigo swirled his wine glass and took a sip, thoughtfully curling the tip of his tongue. Hm. Yes. Cask 23, vintage 2007 – an excellent year indeed. The 1994 vintage was still definitely more than a trifle better, though.
Conversation ebbed and flowed around him in gentle waves, and while Atobe did an admirable job of parrying repartee that flowed his way, on the whole he remained largely silent over lunch, exhibiting a level of taciturnity that was highly unusual for him. Admittedly, it was perhaps unreasonable to expect much – or any – kind of tête-à-tête from Atobe's end of the table, given that he was flanked on either side by Tezuka Kunimitsu and Sanada Genichirou. Both were prized for being strong, silent men. Neither happened to have a marked inclination for conversation at any time, let alone during mealtimes. Even Yukimura Seiichi, who was by all accounts a delightful conversationalist, seemed affected by the mood and remained curiously quiet.
Atobe tilted his wine glass and leaned back in his chair, his gaze contemplative.
A couple of hours or so ago, back in Tokyo, one of the two NTAJ vice-treasurers had been arrested on suspicion of embezzling NTAJ funds. The other vice-treasurer was apparently nowhere to be found, having vanished – presumed fled – from hearth and home. Foul play was not suspected. At almost the same time, the NTAJ treasurer, one Sasabe Tenzo, had been politely and discreetly escorted away for questioning. Yet there had been no official word in the media and certainly not on the late-night news in Japan, although there had been some rumours. It was possible that the police were saving for a triumphant press announcement in time for the morning news (which had higher viewership and was thus the preferred timing for such announcements) and there was a great deal more than met the eye. Or, perhaps, that same Sasabe Tenzo, lately more prominently known as the other director of the Puremia management agency of the Princes of Tennis, might have been released due to insufficient evidence.
Certain items had been delivered into Sakaki Tarou's hands, with the consent of interested parties. Those items, no doubt, would have reached the police by now. In addition, the former mistress of Nishimura Yuji, managing director of Puremia, would talk and volubly, too. And if she did not, there were documents and photographs, which in any event were required to verify her statements. But Atobe knew that she would speak, for the same reasons that had made her speak before. No doubt the evening would bring results.
Sakaki-san's last message, sent just that morning (Cincinnati time), had hinted cryptically that the president of the NTAJ might know more than he had let on. Atobe had always known that the web was complex, but this was beginning to look as if it could potentially escalate into something that might even threaten the very fabric of tennis in Japan, and could require an absolute re-building from scratch – a mammoth task if ever there was one, and certainly the worst time for it. Either this was all a very elaborate plan by someone possessed of a diabolical cunning to a degree that even Atobe hadn't encountered for a very, very long time – or else it was a case of too many cooks spoiling the broth. Whatever it was, Atobe was leaving Sakaki-san to ferret it out.
But all these – arrests, diabolical planning or too many cooks – were not what worried Atobe. No, what Atobe was concerned about was the opaqueness that veiled the very crux of it all.
Atobe set down his glass, his mind preoccupied.
Exactly how, and why, had Tezuka, Yukimura and Sanada had been poisoned – for in Atobe's peerless opinion, he saw no other way to describe it – with the performance-boosting substance known as JTX…?
Yanagi and Inui had suggested that the copies of the physicals and medical tests over the years, which the Princes of Tennis had kept, might perhaps shed some light and perhaps narrow down the timings and the likely persons responsible. It was both a shot in the dark and a double-edged sword at the same time. Assuming that the copies of the said medical records revealed something, they could narrow down the persons most likely to be responsible and follow the trail. Yet at the same time, it would quite likely show that there had been a pattern of JTX poisoning. This would naturally mean that their hard-fought victories on the circuits had not been honourably won.
And that was not all.
Tachibana had sent a long email a few hours ago, with an update on the Tokyo side of things. Specifically, Tachibana had warned that there were potentially wide-ranging and quite possibly devastating impact resulting from Yukimura's and Sanada's test results being known. That Yukimura and Sanada would disclose their test results was never something that had been in question; it was the damage containment that was absolutely crucial.
Taint by association.
Atobe was well aware that people believe what they wish to believe and the longer they took, the harder it would be for them. If they did not find out what had happened, who had done it, and pronto –
Atobe dabbed his lips daintily with his napkin. He then, very naturally, lifted his eyes, only to be confronted by an entire table of eyes all fixed on him, with a variety of expressions – thoughtful, anxious, grumpy, perplexed, curious, expectant and just plain blank.
It was a most surreal moment.
"Well, now," Atobe remarked, laying his napkin aside, "ore-sama has always had people hanging on to ore-sama's every word, but hanging on to ore-sama's silence is also most gratifying."
Sanada, whom rumour said had no sense of humour, said sternly: "Atobe. What is wrong?"
Atobe, disdaining to reply, merely ignored Sanada and the gathering thunderclouds on Sanada's expressive brow.
Next to Sanada, Yukimura's eyes narrowed, a flicker of steeliness in their depths. "Kabaji is not here. And you are in a black mood. What are you not telling us?"
Atobe snorted. "Ore-sama's mood is not black. Ore-sama has things on the mind, that is all."
"Quite so," murmured Yukimura. "Do share–"
He paused abruptly.
The door to the private dining room had opened. All eyes now swung towards it.
Kabaji Munehiro, who had been missing all throughout lunch, entered. His face was as emotionless as ever, but there was something about the way he was moving – speedier than usual, practically hurrying. All eyes followed Kabaji keenly as he did what was, for him, a near-sprint to Atobe and held out a mobile phone.
Atobe's eyes asked a question of Kabaji; he arched an eyebrow when Kabaji shook his head briefly in reply. Atobe took hold of the device and graciously answered. "Atobe Keigo."
The 'phone squawked (and possibly screeched once or twice).
Atobe listened, his face intent. "Hn. – Kabaji."
"Usu."
"Call Suoh. You know what to do."
"Usu."
Kabaji left without further ado.
Atobe tossed his napkin aside. "Ore-sama trusts that you are enjoying lunch," he said to the rest of the table. "Echizen, Tezuka, if you're done, come with me."
It was not a request.
As Kaidoh Kaoru stared at his plate, a shadow fell over him.
"Kaidoh."
He looked up.
"Come," said Tezuka.
The maître d' politely closed the doors on them.
Atobe said, simply, "This should be done privately. Sit down, all of you." With a dramatic flourish, he set his mobile phone on the table in a standing position and then tapped the screen. "Kikumaru is on the line," he announced. "Kikumaru. Ore-sama has brought you Tezuka, Echizen and Kaidoh." Unspoken, were the words: Be awed by ore-sama.
"Atobe! Tezuka, o-chibi! Are you there? I tried to call you! You didn't pick up! I had to call Fuji! Oishi and I, we found Momo! We really, really found him!"
Those were, doubtless, the unmistakeable accents of Kikumaru Eiji – and he sounded half-choked with tears.
Moved, Tezuka cleared his throat. "Kikumaru. It's good to hear from you. How is Momoshiro?"
"TEZUKA! Momo's hurt and I think he's really hurt badly and I don't know what to do and Oishi won't tell me anything! Oshitari, Fuji, they both said it might take maybe two hours because it's so dark now, and helicopter is not possible, but I'm really worried because Momo's been out here for days, and he's burning so badly that he's like fire to touch, and I don't know how bad it is, and Oishi just keeps saying that he needs a hospital now, but how are we going to get to one! How, how, how?!"
Atobe's face was unreadable. "Kabaji's on it. Kikumaru, keep all the lights on in that house where you are, and put lights in the yard – if you can find any. Ore-sama wants that place to be positively flooded with light. Do you hear me?"
"H-hai!"
"Kabaji will contact you shortly. Give him your coordinates."
Tezuka stirred. "Atobe, would you be able to arrange for the doctors to call Kikumaru or Oishi, and to advise what may be done in the meantime?"
"It's already being done as we speak."
"But Atobe… my sister says that only happens on TV and not in real life!"
Atobe rolled his eyes. "Only if you are expecting Oishi to perform an operation using a coat hanger and instructions via videochat," he drawled, not unkindly. "Ore-sama trusts that Oishi Syuichirou and the doctors are possessed of far more sense than to attempt that."
"Hai!"
"One more thing, Kikumaru." Tezuka's tone had changed subtly; it now carried a clarion ring that seemed to stretch well beyond mere authority.
"Hai!"
"Yudan sezu ni ikou," ordered Tezuka crisply. "Tell Momoshiro it is not his time."
Kikumaru gave a gasp that sounded like a muffled sob. "H-hai!"
"Kikumaru-sempai."
"Kaidoh? Kaidoh!"
"Hai, sempai. Please take care of Momoshiro." Kaidoh bowed.
"Of course of course of course! Is o-chibi there?"
Echizen nodded wordlessly.
Kaidoh said gruffly: "He's here."
"Hey, you haven't said anything to Momo!"
Echizen twitched, but remained stubbornly silent.
"Okay, I'll tell him you miss him and he'd better wake up and get better soon!"
Echizen opened his mouth as if to say something, then clearly thought better of it and snapped it shut.
"Na, o-chibi, we'll take good care of Momo! I promise, o-chibi! Gotta go now, Oishi's calling!"
There was a click as Kikumaru Eiji hung up.
There was a long silence.
"Thanks," said Echizen finally, his voice rough.
Atobe, surprisingly enough, shook his head. "This once, Echizen Ryoma, ore-sama will say that no thanks is necessary. Momoshiro Takeshi…" Atobe's gaze grew distant for a moment. "It was not so long ago, that we played tennis together, all of us. Ore-sama will not let us lose him. Not this way."
He turned to Tezuka. "It is best for Momoshiro to hear you, in your voice. Kikumaru may deliver your message, but whether it will be heard is another question altogether. It has to be in your voice, Tezuka. Send Oishi a recording. Better still, talk to Momoshiro directly, even if he remains –" Atobe checked himself briefly before continuing – "even if he has yet to wake."
Tezuka inclined his head.
"Atobe-sempai."
Atobe looked approvingly at Kaidoh. Always mannerly, this one.
"Is there… any other news?" asked Kaidoh hesitantly.
"There is no news that can be shared at this juncture."
In other words, there is some news… just that you are not telling us. Kaidoh thought of the message he had received from Inui Sadaharu. He wondered for a moment if he ought to tell Atobe, who did not appear to have any knowledge of what was being arranged. But some instinct made him hold his tongue.
Atobe glanced at his watch and made a clicking noise of what sounded like exasperation, as he rose swiftly to his feet. "Time runs short. The others will, no doubt, be delighted to hear that Momoshiro has been found. Assuming you are all unable to reach Tokyo, feel free to contact Kabaji or Taki as they shall continue to co-ordinate with Tokyo and will always have the latest."
"You're not coming back with us?" queried Echizen, who'd found his tongue, it seemed.
Atobe managed, somehow, to imbue his casual shrug with the dismissive air of one who must needs deal with major world crises and cannot spare time for dessert.
As the door closed behind him, Atobe's face changed; he strode away and made a call on his mobile phone. "Taki."
"Hai, Atobe. Kabaji has updated me."
"Are the doctors in touch with Oishi Syuichirou?"
"No, the line was busy. Tokyo said they haven't been able to get through for the last fifteen minutes. Kikumaru was probably hogging the line."
"…"
"One moment, Atobe. Okay, the line is clear now. Oh, hey – you were hogging the line, Atobe –"
"Ore-sama did not 'hog' any line," Atobe said haughtily. "Tezuka, Kaidoh and Echizen were talking to Kikumaru."
"Right," Taki said hastily. "Uh, the doctors are talking to Kikumaru now—"
"A waste of time," Atobe told him, dismissively. "Get them to talk to Oishi Syuichirou."
"Okay, Atobe! Oh, I have an update on Sasabe Toshio. His medical degree is genuine, but the licensing board has confirmed that the licence doesn't exist. So to be precise, Sasabe Toshio doesn't have an existing medical licence from Japan or any part of the United States of America. We are trying to determine if he has a medical licence from anywhere else, but he's certainly not been to Germany or the United Kingdom, so...no."
Atobe's face was black (as it had not been when Yukimura had made his comment about black moods earlier). "The rule, before ore-sama left, was that the medical license had to be current and from Japan, the USA, Germany or the United Kingdom. When did this change?!"
Taki coughed tactfully. "Probably a breach of something again," he said vaguely. "Anyway, it's pretty easy to fake stuff nowadays, Atobe."
"There was a procedure for verification!" Atobe snarled.
"It's been ignored, I guess. You can put in all the structure you want to, but if there's no compliance or the people in charge just don't care and aren't held to account, then it's no use," Taki pointed out pragmatically, with no intention of stoking Atobe's temper. "Plus, there's a bad name for this. It's called red tape."
"It's called Enron," Atobe snapped back. "There's a difference between speeding up procedures and doing away with them completely!"
Taki saluted as best he could over the 'phone. "Yes, sir!"
"What else, Taki?"
"Arimura-sensei said that they've completed looking though the medical reports and they said those don't show anything, and it was a waste of time."
Atobe's silence spoke volumes.
"But Arimura-sensei also said something else, Atobe."
"What?"
"He said Why is there a gap of about 5 - 6 days between the date Tezuka Kunimitsu tested positive and the dates Subject Alpha and Subject Beta tested positive?"
"Taki—"
"We're already on it," Taki assured him. "It's not as if we didn't spot this part. It was really obvious. R's people have been working on it since they landed."
From the beginning, Atobe had given orders to keep a close eye on the coaches, nutritionists and general staff. As time went on, it had become more and more evident that someone on the inside had been involved. However, the person(s) behind it and the motive(s) remained unknown. Previously, Atobe had surmised that there was a very high likelihood that guilty party would no doubt take the opportunity to vamoose as soon as possible, and if money was involved, as soon as he or she had been paid. He had put measures in place, too, but none of those had been triggered since, peculiarly enough, nobody took the chance to flee the scene of the crime like a halfway normal criminal.
At the same time, it was gradually becoming clearer that there was something going on, beneath the surface. Although the coaches, doctors, nutritionists and general staff had been questioned, confronted, doubted, and finally faced with the reality that they were no longer needed, with a sudden influx of new personnel from the newly set-up management agency taking over their day jobs, they had remained. The AMI was not financing their stay and it was questionable whether Puremia was still funding them. Still, none of them had given a reasonable reply, when asked point blank why they had not left. Some had looked grim, some had looked uncomfortable, and some had looked just plain disdainful.
It was inexplicable.
"How fast can R give us the report? Has he found anything?"
"I think so," Taki said cautiously. "He and his people are all awfully tight-lipped, Atobe. But R's people did say that time given to them has been very limited –"
"Ore-sama is not interested in finding out the extent of the pollution in the ocean," interrupted Atobe. "That's for the relevant authorities. Remind R to focus. He's had more than enough time. Tell R that the report has to be ready within the next hour."
"Well, but R's people are looking for this one guy from the NTAJ whom we can't reach because he's in Japan, so they might not have enough time," demurred Taki. "His name is Ito Matsuki."
Atobe was suddenly alert. "Oh? Sakaki-san has met him. Ito is from the NTAJ. He's been in Japan at least since the day before yesterday. Did R say why he's hunting Ito?"
"R said that he's been back in Japan much earlier – left before last Saturday."
"Tell him to talk to Sakaki-san. And ore-sama wants that report in an hour!"
"Hai…" Taki sounded hesitant. "Hey, Atobe… uh, there's an urgent message from one Inoue Mamoru."
"Inoue Mamoru?"
"He's the deputy managing editor of the tennis section of Japan's foremost sports magazine, Pro Sports Japan," Taki recited. "He was the first to call Echizen Ryoma The Prince of Tennis when he was still just a reporter and that became the name for all the Japanese players on the tennis circuit. Tenisu no Ouji-sama. He's done several full-length feature articles on you—"
"That is not what ore-sama means. Ore-sama has an excellent memory and is perfectly aware of who he is," Atobe said loftily. "Why did he call?"
"He asked for an interview with you."
Atobe said drily, "This need not have been brought to ore-sama's attention."
"I know," admitted Taki, "but he wants to interview you. Not the others. All the other sports media people just wanted to talk to Tezuka or Echizen or one of the players. This request was for you."
Atobe mulled it over. "No interviews, no leaks."
"You sure about this, Atobe?"
Atobe understood. "Yes, Taki. It is not for ore-sama to take the spotlight. It never was." He paused and added, "It's time for Tezuka Kunimitsu to step up to the plate."