Excerpt from December 6 by Martin Cruz Smith, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"He's drunk."

"That, too."

Matsu released her and let his head roll sloppily. He had an artistic beard and wore a viewfinder around his neck, in case anyone forgot his calling.

"It was just one of those nights," Matsu sang along.

"You're pissed."

Matsu inhaled deeply and broke into a grin. "Yesss, I think so. I hope so. Harry, do you remember Watching Cherry Blossoms Fall?"

"A sensitive film."

"My film, thank you. Do you think, afterward, that people will remember that film when they think of the director Matsu?"

"After what?"

Matsu lifted the viewfinder to his eye and scanned the room. "This is beautiful. Not Paris, I'm sorry, but still beautiful. Because the only time you'll know the soul of another man is when he's drunk. And a man can tell things to a waitress that he will never tell his wife. This is a happy place."

"That's very profound. How is the new film?"

"Just starting."

"A love story?"

"No lovers. Many planes."

"You're still with Toho Studios?"

"No." Matsu laughed, and somewhere in the laugh was a moan. "Not anymore."

Harry finally grasped the other man's despair. "They called you up."

"I will serve the emperor." Matsu tucked in his chin.

"What are you going to do in the army? You're a moviemaker."

"I'll still be making films. I'm going in the morning, but I wanted to see Michiko one more time. That is the image I want to carry with me, the unattainable Michiko. Unless you think perhaps I can attain her."

"You can't afford her."

"But I'm rich," Matsu said. "Tonight I'm rich." From an envelope he pulled a stack of crisp, light green bills that said japanese government in English. Matsu stuffed the bills back into the envelope. "For my new assignment. There will be many planes, many tanks. No cherry blossoms."

"A trip to the moon on gossamer wings..." Michiko mouthed the words as if each rested momentarily on her lips. Not that she understood English.

Harry returned to his table. "Sorry. A conversation about the arts."

"This is what I have to show you." Willie unfolded a newspaper to a picture of soldiers in winter coats raising their rifles as they walked down the gangway of a transport ship. He passed it to Harry. "I saw it at the German embassy today. I can't read it, but I know you can."

The photo caption read, "WELCOME HOME. Hero Returns from China to Well-Deserved Honors." Although the page was smudged -- newspapers hadn't had decent paper stock for years -- Harry saw that the man on the ramp was a colonel with the deep-set eyes of a fasting monk. A long sword in a utilitarian sheath hung from his belt.

"Ishigami. How about that?"

"That's what I thought," Willie said.

"Who is it?" DeGeorge asked.

"A long-lost friend," Harry said. "I ought to read the newspapers more thoroughly."

DeGeorge asked Harry, "What day is left in the pool for Willie?"

"The eighth. That's Monday. War in three days is cutting it a little close."

"I don't bet," Willie said.

"A social bet," said DeGeorge. "Could happen."

Harry shook his head. "Ninety new American films have just arrived. Too Hot to Handle, Tarzan Escapes, One Hundred Men and a Girl. Who on earth would go to war when there's entertainment like that?"

"What do you do here, Harry?" Willie asked.

DeGeorge said, "Ostensibly, he's a movie rep. He does something else, I've just never been able to figure out what the fuck it is. Is it true, Harry, you're actually giving a speech at the Chrysanthemum Club tomorrow? You, at the Chrysanthemum Club?"

Copyright © 2002 by Titanic Productions