‘You only gave me hell about the state of the world and called me a poofter. But you were quite friendly about it. No offence given or taken.’

‘Oh, Christ!’ Dikko Henderson gloomily pushed a hand through his tough, grizzled hair. ‘But I didn’t hit anyone?’

‘Only that girl you slapped so hard on the bottom that she fell down.’

‘Oh that!’ said Dikko Henderson with relief. ‘That was just a love-pat. What’s a girl’s bottom for, anyway? And so far as I recall they all screamed with laughter. Including her. Right? How did you make out with yours by the way? She looked pretty enthusiastic’

‘She was.’

‘Good show.’ He swallowed the remains of his drink and got to his feet. ‘Come on, bud. Let’s go. Wouldn’t do to keep Tiger waiting. I once did and he wouldn’t speak to me for a week.’

It was a typical Tokyo day in late summer – hot, sticky and grey – the air full of fine dust from the endless demolition and reconstruction work. They drove for half an hour towards Yokohama and pulled up outside a dull grey building which announced itself in large letters to be ‘The Bureau of All-Asian Folkways’. There was a busy traffic of Japanese scurrying in and out through the bogusly important-looking entrance, but no one glanced at Dikko and Bond, and they were not asked their business as Dikko led the way through an entrance hall where there were books and postcards on sale as if the place were some kind of museum. Dikko made for a doorway marked ‘Co-ordination Department’ and there was a long corridor with open rooms on both sides. The rooms were full of studious-looking young men at desks. There were large wall maps with coloured pins dotted across them, and endless shelves of books. A door marked ‘International Relations’ gave on to another corridor, this time lined with closed doors which had people’s names on them in English and Japanese. A sharp right turn took them through the ‘Visual Presentation Bureau’ with more closed doors, and on to ‘Documentation’, a large hall-shaped library with more people bent over desks. Here, for the first time, they were scrutinized by a man at a desk near the entrance. He rose to his feet and bowed wordlessly. As they walked on Dikko said quietly, ‘This is where the cover tapers off. Up till now, all those people really were researching Asian Folkways. But these here are part of Tiger’s outside staff, doing more or less classified work. Sort of archivists. This is where we’d be politely turned back if we’d lost our way.’ Behind a final wall of bookshelves that stretched out into the room a small door was concealed. It was marked ‘Proposed Extension to Documentation Department. Danger! Construction work in progress’. From behind it came the sound of drills, a circular saw cutting through the wood and other building noises. Dikko walked through the door into a totally empty room with a highly-polished wood floor. There was no sign of construction work. Dikko laughed at Bond’s surprise. He gestured towards a large metal box fitted to the back of the door through which they had come. ‘Tape recorder,’ he said. ‘Clever gimmick. Sounds just like the real thing. And this’–he pointed to the stretch of bare floor ahead–‘is what the Japanese call a “nightingale floor”. Relic of the old days when people wanted to be warned of intruders. Serves the same purpose here. Imagine trying to get across here without being heard.’ They set off, and immediately the cunningly sprung boards gave out penetrating squeaks and groans. In a small facing door, a spy-hole slid open and one large eye surveyed them. The door opened to reveal a stocky man in plain clothes who had been sitting at a small deal table reading a book. It was a tiny box-like room that seemed to have no other exit. The man bowed. Dikko said some phrases containing the words ‘Tanaka-san’. The man bowed again. Dikko turned to Bond. ‘You’re on your own now. Be in it, champ! Tiger’ll send you back to your hotel. See you.’

Bond said, ‘Tell Mother I died game,’ and walked into the little box and the door was closed behind him. There was a row of buttons by the desk and the guard pressed one of them. There came a barely perceptible whine and Bond got the impression of descent. So the room was a lift. What a box of tricks the formidable Tiger had erected as a screen for himself! The authentic Eastern nest of boxes. What next?

The descent continued for some time. When it stopped, the guard opened the door and Bond stepped out and stood stock still. He was standing on the platform of an underground station! There it all was: the red and green signals over the two yawning tunnels, the conventional white tiles on the walls and the curved roof – even an empty cigarette kiosk let into the wall beside him! A man had come out of this. He now said in good English, ‘Please to follow me, Commander,’ and led the way through an arch marked ‘Exit’. But here all the floor space of the hall that would one day lead to the moving stairways was occupied by trim prefabricated offices on both sides of a wide corridor. Bond was led into the first of these which revealed itself as a waiting-room and outer office. A male secretary rose from his typewriter, bowed and went through a communicating door. He immediately reappeared, bowed again and held the door open. ‘Please to come this way, Commander.’

Bond went through and the door was softly closed behind him. The big square figure that Dikko had described to him came forward across the handsome red carpet and held out a hand that was hard and dry. ‘My dear Commander. Good morning. It is a great pleasure to meet you.’ The wide, gold-toothed smile signalled welcome. The eyes glittered between long dark lashes that were almost feminine. ‘Come and sit down. How do you like my offices? Rather different from your own Chief’s, no doubt. But the new underground will take another ten years to complete and there is little office space in Tokyo. It crossed my mind to make use of this disused station. It is quiet. It is private. It is also cool. I shall be sorry when the trains are required to run and we shall have to move out.’

Bond took the proffered chair across the empty desk from Tanaka. ‘It’s a brilliant idea. And I enjoyed the Folkways above our heads. Are there really so many people in the world interested in Folkways?’

Tiger Tanaka shrugged. ‘What does it matter? The literature is given away free. I have never asked the Director who reads it. Americans, I expect, and Germans. Perhaps some Swiss. The serious-minded can always be found for such stuff. It is an expensive conceit, of course. But fortunately the expense is not carried by the Ministry of Internal Affairs with whom I am concerned. Down here, we have to count our pennies. I suppose it is the same with your own budget.’

Bond assumed that this man would know the published facts of the Secret Service Vote. He said, ‘Under ten million pounds a year doesn’t go far when there is the whole world to cover.’

The teeth glistened under the neon strip lighting. ‘At least for the last ten years you have saved money by closing down your activities in this part of the world.’

‘Yes. We rely on the C.I.A. to do our work here for us. They are most efficient and helpful.’

‘As much so under McCone as under Dulles?’

The old fox! ‘Nearly so. Nowadays they are even more inclined to regard the Pacific as their own back garden.’

‘From which you wish to borrow the mowing machine. Without them knowing.’ Tiger’s smile was even more tigerish.

Bond had to laugh. The wily devil had certainly been putting two and two together. When Bond laughed, Tiger also laughed, but carefully. Bond said, ‘We had a man called Captain Cook and various others who discovered much of this garden. Australia and New Zealand are two very great countries. You must admit that our interest in this half of the world is perfectly legitimate.’

‘My dear Commander. You were lucky that we struck at Pearl Harbour rather than at Australia. Can you doubt that we would have occupied that country and New Zealand if we had done otherwise? These are big and important land spaces, insufficiently developed. You could not have defended them. The Americans would not have. If our policy had been different, we would now own half the British Commonwealth. Personally, I have never understood the strategy behind Pearl Harbour. Did we wish to conquer America? The supply lines were too long. But Australia and New Zealand were ripe for the plucking.’ He pushed forward a large box of cigarettes. ‘Do you smoke? These are Shinsei. It is an acceptable brand.’