Hidden Nexus by Nick Tanner

Cynics however, failed to see how colourful rustic politicians making deals in smoke-filled restaurants was any better or more democratic than faceless urbane bureaucrats from Tokyo University making decisions in air-conditioned civil service offices.
     
    Not that Watanabe really cared. Deep down Watanabe had few genuine principles.
     
    In the years since his departure from the Matsuzaki faction, he had done little to alter this public perception of him as a maverick politician, having traversed a variety of factions, pleaded unsuccessfully to be allowed back into the Matsuzaki faction, alienated countless allies, and engineered a few unexpected electoral victories. Any underlying principles were fiendishly hard to detect – save that of survival and aggrandisement.
     
    But the cycle of Watanabe’s fortune was once again beginning to turn – he could sense it.
     
    Of course he knew the underlying reasons for all this. Of course he did. Hatoyama’s role was all too clear. Kinjo’s plan had been risky – was risky, and Watanabe hadn’t been sure at first. He was now! But all the same, it remained imperative that this particular alliance remained secret. If it ever surfaced that he’d had any dealings with the Yakuza, any dealings at all, then what was left of his political career would come to an immediate and shuddering halt. That much was elementary.
     
    He cast his mind back once more to that initial meeting with Hatoyama. He’d been confident that Kinjo had made suitable security arrangements – he’d trusted Kinjo after all. He was his right hand man.
     
    But then Kinjo had passed on his suspicions surrounding a young woman, one of the attendants who’d served the drinks, and about what he thought she might, or might not have noted, particularly about the significance of the meeting. Watanabe had felt that familiar cold shudder crawl up his spine. The meeting had to remain a secret and now someone unreliable had sensed its importance. He’d chewed his lip with particular vigour on hearing the news.
     
    Watanabe though, was equally confident that Kinjo would take care of it. It was what Kinjo was good at – tidying up. Typically he would pay them off or ensure silence through other means – usually fictitious claims of patronage, promotion or work within the faction. Kinjo was expert at utilising his situational power, if not his charisma.
     
    It had not been a surprise therefore when Kinjo had pointed the girl in Watanabe’s direction – with recommendation! ‘Keep your friends close but your enemies closer,’ some foreigner had said. Watanabe had followed that and Kinjo’s advice.
     
    ‘You can keep a check on her and… well, she has a nice arse. Enjoy her. She’s harmless. Trust me!’
     
    Watanabe had surprisingly little difficulty in getting together with the girl. She’d been more than eagerly acquiescent and he had become more than quickly aroused. ‘Your turn,’ she’d said as Watanabe had lain back on the futon, closed his eyes and listened to her slipping off the rest of her clothing. It hadn’t taken him long to reach a state of complete and utter abandon and all he could hear and all he could feel had been the soft touch of her hand. He hadn’t objected and imperceptibly had opened his legs to invite her on. As he’d drifted into delirium he’d sensed her lips – sucking.
     
    It was only after that session that he’d become more confident that the woman had been happily taken care of. He was confident that she would remain silent, after all why risk an inside seat with the hottest politician in town?
     
    Then there had been that other woman. That had not been so nearly as satisfying. She had not been acquiescent – there had been no gay abandon, rather an eruption of force and only the merest pleasure at the exertion of physical control and power.
     
    Another momentary, ice-cold shudder shot up and down his spine. He poured himself a glass of water, noting that his