light on the detonator indicated that it was armed. The man looked decidedly unhappy.
The guard immediately went back out the door, shutting it behind him, leaving Abayon alone with the visitor, albeit separated by the glass.
"Is this necessary?" the man asked in Japanese, indicating the vest.
Abayon nodded and replied in the same language, "Yes, it is." He lifted his hand from the right arm of his wheelchair, revealing a red button. "I press down on that, you explode. My men will be upset if I have to do that, because then they will have to hose out the room where you are standing, so you do not want to force me to do it." He placed his hand back over the button, and the Japanese took a step back, fighting to keep from showing his fear, working on his anger to replace it.
"I am an envoy and should not be treated this way."
"Who made that rule?" Abayon asked. He did not wait for an answer. "What were the rules for Unit 731?" This time he did wait, but the envoy was not to be drawn into such talk.
"You know who I represent—" he began.
But Abayon cut him off. "Do you know who you really represent?"
In reply, the envoy held up his right hand, fingers extended, showing that the pinkie on that hand was missing. "I am the right hand of the head of the Black Wind Society. He sent me here to negotiate with you."
"And who does he work for?" Abayon demanded.
"My master works for no one."
"You're a fool. Which means he's a fool to have you as his right hand."
The envoy's face tightened as anger made him forget about the vest he wore and where he was. "You had me blindfolded, stuffed in the bottom of a boat, dragged here—wherever this stinkhole is—and have treated me with no respect. My master will not—"
"Your master is a puppet whose strings are being pulled," Abayon said. "And your people built this place you call a stinkhole."
The envoy looked about, trying to understand that last comment.
Abayon sighed. "Give me your message."
"My master wants you to return what you stole from our country. He wants the Golden Lily back."
"You don't even know what the Golden Lily is," Abayon said. "It is not a thing, it was an event involving things. And stealing from a thief is not stealing. What does your master offer in return for what he wants so badly?"
"In return, he will use his connections in the government to pressure the Americans to remove all their military aid from these islands."
Abayon stared through the glass at the Yakuza envoy as he processed what this offer really meant.
Taking the hesitation as a negative, the envoy laid his next card on the table. "If you refuse, my master also told me to inform you that he will bring all his considerable resources to bear on destroying you and your organization."
"You should have stopped at the offer," Abayon said, "ridiculous as it was. You've given me the message you were meant to, even though you don't know what it was."
The envoy frowned. "What is your answer to my master's offer?"
"You were not sent here to ask me anything. You were sent here to tell me something, and I have heard you. However, I suppose I should respond." Abayon gestured with his left hand, and the video camera in the corner of the room behind him picked up the gesture. The door behind the envoy swung open. The guard walked in with a stool and a small tray on which were a syringe, a rubber piece of tubing, and an alcohol swab. He placed the stool down, the tray on top of it, and then left, shutting the door solidly behind him, the sound echoing into an ominous silence.
"What do you think you're doing?" the envoy finally demanded, eyeing the syringe suspiciously.
"I want you to take that needle and inject yourself with the contents."
"You're crazy."
"You either do that," Abayon said, "or I do this." He indicated the red button.
"What's in the syringe?" the envoy demanded.
"Something that will make you sleep while my men take you back to the main island. If I wanted to kill you, I could do