Conspiracy by Allan Topol Page B

Japan and Asia. He was persuaded that Webster would support Sato's program. Not only did the president have a neoisolationist view toward foreign policy, but he was concerned about the budget deficit. He saw America's foreign military commitments as a tremendous drain on the country's finances, which had to be reduced.
    If Webster were reelected, then Sato would be right. But Boyd was a different matter. As a member of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, he had spoken often about his view of America's place in the world. He believed the United States could placate China, notwithstanding that country's growing military might. He would view a rearmed Japan as creating the risk of a war between the two historical enemies, with the likelihood that the United States would be drawn into it on one side or the other. No, Alex was convinced that Senator Boyd would never support Sato's program. With the latest polls showing Webster and Boyd in a dead heat, something in this picture didn't make sense.
    As Alex walked back to his motorcycle, he asked himself, So what's it all mean?
    The answer that came back to him was that Sato was somehow meddling in the American election in a way that would eliminate Boyd's chances of being president. To do that he'd need help, and he'd need it from an American. But whom had he recruited? Alex would give anything to know the answer to that question. And he intended to find out.
    * * *
    That evening the crowd lined up outside of the Kokuritsu Gekijo Theatre, the national theater west of the Imperial Palace near Hanzomon Station, an hour before the doors were to open for the rally. The line extended in a southerly direction almost to the National Diet Building. None of the usual performances in this venue—Kabuki, traditional theater, or a concert—had ever drawn such a crowd.
    They were polite and orderly, but their signs and banners told their message: No War. No Sato. These were ordinary Japanese people who prized their country's democracy and its relationship with the United States. Many had never attended a political rally in their lives, but Sato's rise in the polls frightened them. The announcement of the rally had stated, If we don't speak out against Sato, he will prevail. So they came to raise their voices.
    When the doors opened, the crowd filed in until the theater was filled to capacity. People were standing three deep behind the last row and in the side aisles.
    Speaking from a platform on stage, the first two speakers, members of the Diet from Prime Minister Nakamura's party, outlined the "Japanese political and economic miracle" since the end of the war. "To be sure," one said, "our economic path has been rough in recent years, but our foundations are strong. We need only stay the course, and our economy will recover." Their message was greeted with enthusiastic applause. Chants of "Sato no... war no," filled the theater.
    Outside, Alex jumped off his motorcycle and approached the front door. He wasn't late. He had come to hear Masaki, the third speaker, who would be going on shortly.
    As Alex approached the front door, he flashed his New York Times ID at one of two tough-looking men. "No more admission," the man said. "The theater is full."
    "I'm press," Alex said. " New York Times." Figuring that could get him in anywhere, he moved toward the door and grabbed the handle. One of the men roughly pulled him away. He punched Alex in the stomach and sent the reporter tumbling to the ground. He followed that with a swift kick to the balls that left Alex writhing in pain. "The theater is full." The man turned around and left him there.
    Inside the theater, Masaki, a brilliant orator, was just beginning his speech, rapidly arousing the crowd to an emotional pitch.
    "Sato is nothing but a warmonger and a demagogue," he shouted into the microphone. "It took us decades to recover from the previous round of leaders like Sato, who launched us into the Second World War and nearly