He shook hands with Jack as he continued. "Of course I have not yet had the opportunity to review the thinking of the man expected to oppose you in next fall's senate contest. I believe he is Representative Mark Reynolds, is he not?"
Jack's polite smile sort of froze on his face.
"But, I'm sure I will," Noda proceeded blandly. "Again let me stress that voices such as yours are important. There are so few opinion-makers in America, individuals such as Dr. Richardson and yourself, who have the receptivity to appreciate the importance of Dai Nippon's program and its objectives."
I quickly offered to show the distinguished senator to the door, hoping I wouldn't need that Christmas-gift dog muzzle. He was still closing his briefcase as we passed the guards, a couple of guys who looked like the heavies in an old Bruce Lee karate epic. Click, we were on the elevator, click, we were headed down.
"Good Christ!" He exploded. Before he could say anything else, I waved for silence. Around here the walls probably had ears. (Shortly thereafter I discovered I'd underestimated even that.)
In minutes we were on Third Avenue, autumn wind in our hair, with O'Donnell positively awestruck by Matsuo Noda's balls.
"Matt, did I hear what I thought I did?" His eyes were grim.
"That he's got X million bucks that say you get retired if you fuck with him?"
"My reading was, I play ball with him and his crowd and he'll write a blank check for my campaign next year. I cross him and I'll be watching the Mark Reynolds show every night on prime time right through election day." He was livid. "Matt, take my advice and get out of this thing. That bastard thinks this country's for sale. If he expects me to run interference for him on the Hill while he gears up for World War Three, he's making a big mistake."
"Jack, I can't quit now. Who else is going to keep an eye on this guy? Besides, he'd never let me. I know too much."