Page 34 of The Presidents Shadow

Margo, Burbank, and I look at one another, not understanding the reason for his anger.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“YOU HAVE NOT BEEN INVITED!” he says, shouting now.

As is often the case, I consider using mind control to calm the young man. Margo takes a wiser and less radical approach: sympathy and understanding.

“Please, honorable and sorrowful son, forgive our discourtesy. We are ignorant in the customs of Japanese funeral rituals. But…” Margo looks at me. Her assumption is that I will complete her thought. Miraculously, it comes to me. As always, the truth is easy to welcome.

“But we mourn your loss. We open our hearts out of respect to your father and your mother. If our presence disturbs you, we shall, of course, leave. But with your permission we long to stay and pray.”

As cold and angry as his face looked, now everything changes. His eyes fill with tears. His lips quiver slightly. He bows, long and deep.

“Forgive me,” he says. “You both honor my late parents with your presence. Please stay.”

CHAPTER 47

THREE HOURS LATER Margo and I are having tea with Jason Nakashima. We are seated on the floor of his very small, very simple Quonset hut. Burbank returned to the disaster site to continue collecting soil samples after we paid our respects at the funeral.

“I must continue to apologize for my angry outburst,” he says as he pours tea into our pale green cups.

“You must understand,” he goes on. “This is particularly painful for me. Not only because of the death of my beloved mother and father but also because I… I could have… might have… could have been able to prevent it.”

Margo jumps in immediately. “Nothing could have prevented what happened here. The destruction of Kyoto and the university was an incredible catastrophe of nature.”

I add, “Even now we have no idea what caused it. We do not even know how we might prevent it from happening again.”

“I know. But let me explain my role in this matter. Itmay help you to understand the depth of my sorrow,” Jason urges, seeking understanding.

I’m concerned about what his role might have been. The wide-eyed look on Margo’s face tells me that she is also anxious for the explanation.

Jason begins his story.

“My father, as chairman of the science department, taught only one seminar, nothing more. Only five students, the smartest of their study levels, were admitted to the class.”

“What was the subject of your father’s class?” Margo asks.

“Whatever he wanted,” says Jason. Then quickly: “My father was so brilliant that anything he had to say was valuable—the history of DNA enhancement, the future of space science, the application of Buddhist philosophy to medical healing—no topic was off-limits. His students respected him, even loved him.”

“Yes,” I say. “I understand having such a relationship. I have one with a teacher myself.”

Jason nods and continues.

“A few weeks before the disaster, my father told my mother and me that he had been receiving disturbing anonymous emails and text messages from someone he believed was a former student of his at Kyoto. He described this student as very smart but socially off-balance, someone who would often argue with his classmates and disrupt sessions. My father was not merely a brilliant man; he was also a kind man. He tried to reason with the studentprivately, but to no avail. My father’s only choice was to ask him to leave his seminar.”

Margo asks, “Do you have copies of the emails and texts he received?”

“Of course,” Jason replies. He taps his phone and begins reading random messages:

Your ignorance and arrogance will cause the downfall of this school.

The blood that will flow through Japan will be on your hands. Your phony British name is a tragedy for Japan and you.

The mountains will crumble. The rivers will rise higher than the mountains. The pain will be unbearable. And you will be the cause.

“My father was unsure whether to inform the university president of these communications. He asked us for advice. My mother believed that this information needed to be shared. And as for me, I told him it was the foolish ramblings of a disappointed egotist, and that paying attention to him would only encourage him. I urged my father to ignore the messages.”

The more Jason tells us, the more distraught he becomes, guilt clearly plaguing his conscience.

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