Rising Sun: A Novel by Michael Crichton Read Free Book Online

what they say about us?”
    “What?”
    “They say Americans are too eager to make theories. They say we don’t spend enough time observing the world, and so we don’t know how things actually
are.
”
    “Is that a Zen idea?”
    “No,” he laughed. “Just an observation. Ask a computer salesman what he thinks of his American counterparts, and he’ll tell you that. Everyone in Japan who deals with Americans thinks it. And when you look at Graham, you realize they’re right. Graham has no real knowledge, no first-hand experience. He just has a collection of prejudices and media fantasies. He doesn’t know anything about the Japanese—and it never occurs to him to find out.”
    I said, “Then you think he’s wrong? The girl wasn’t killed by a Japanese?”
    “I didn’t say that,
kōhai
,” Connor replied. “It’s very possible Graham is right. But at the moment—”
    The doors opened and we saw the party, heard the band playing “Moonlight Serenade.” Two party-going couples stepped into the elevator. They looked like real estate people: the men silver-haired and distinguished looking, the women pretty and slightly tacky. One woman said, “She’s smaller than I thought.”
    “Yes, tiny. And that … was that her boyfriend?”
    “I guess. Wasn’t he the one in the video with her?”
    “I think that was him.”
    One of the men said, “You think she had her boobs done?”
    “Hasn’t everybody?”
    The other woman giggled. “Except me, of course.”
    “Right, Christine.”
    “But I’m thinking about it. Did you see Emily?”
    “Oh, she did hers so
big.
”
    “Well, Jane started it, blame her. Now everyone wants them big.”
    The men turned and looked out the window. “Hell of a building,” one said. “Detailing is fantastic. Must have cost a fortune. You doing much with the Japanese now, Ron?”
    “About twenty percent,” the other man said. “That’s way down from last year. It’s made me work on my golf game, because they always want to play golf.”
    “Twenty percent of your business?”
    “Yeah. They’re buying up Orange County now.”
    “Of course. They already own Los Angeles,” one of the women said, laughing.
    “Well, just about. They have the Arco building over there,” the man said, pointing out the window. “I guess by now they have seventy, seventy-five percent of downtown Los Angeles.”
    “And more in Hawaii.”
    “Hell, they
own
Hawaii—ninety percent of Honolulu, a hundred percent of the Kona coast. Putting up golf courses like mad.”
    One woman said, “Will this party be on
ET
tomorrow? They had enough cameras here.”
    “Let’s remember to watch.”
    The elevator said, “
Mōsugu de gozaimasu.
”
    We came to the garage floor, and the people got off. Connor watched them go, and shook his head. “In no other country in the world,” he said, “would you hear people calmly discussing the fact that their cities and states were sold to foreigners.”
    “Discussing?” I said. “They’re the ones doing the selling.”
    “Yes. Americans are eager to sell. It amazes the Japanese. They think we’re committing economic suicide. And of course they’re right.” As he spoke, Connor pressed a button on the elevator panel marked EMERGENCY ONLY .
    A soft pinging alarm sounded.
    “What’d you do that for?”
    Connor looked at a video camera mounted in the corner of the ceiling and waved cheerfully. A voice on the intercom said, “Good evening, officers. Can I help you?”
    “Yes,” Connor said. “Am I speaking to building security?”
    “That’s right, sir. Is something wrong with your elevator?”
    “Where are you located?”
    “We’re on the lobby level, southeast corner, behind the elevators.”
    “Thank you very much,” Connor said. He pushed the button for the lobby.

The security office of the Nakamoto Tower was a small room, perhaps five meters by seven. It was dominated by three large, flat video panels, each divided into a dozen smaller