Kente Watanabe, MBA

Saigon | District 1 | 18:29 | 090698 | 10.77, 106.70| JP81 - 7680 

"This is going to sound weird but I feel fat driving a car." Anh's attempt at small talk was met with silence by Kente behind her. Anh doesn't usually get to drive a car, let alone a Saito Executive GS-500. A giddyness she attempted to mask in small talk.

"Im used to using my bike, and weaving through traffic. I could move anywhere I want. But now im just boomp - boomp - boomp bu boomp."

The shuttered shops of the normally bustling Pasteur street lie in waiting as residents inside watched the televisions and the windows, waiting for an all clear. Roads that normally see thousands of bikes every day consisted of Portuguese and Italian Make Government cars and The Italian Motorbikes fleeing from them. Somewhere on the second floor of a yellowed French House a British Expat is calling his mother to say "If I squint it looks like Malta."  Kente sat in the back, monopolizing as much space as possible as he read through some reports in a file while showing them to his haiku unit.

"Speaking of fat, well, you really spooked de-buchuō Mishamoto for him to be walking around all the time like that. Usually he just sits in his big office with his Haiku android like he's holding court. How did you manage to get him off of his feet."

"Mishimoto is a creature who hides behind procedure. Take it from him, he dangles."

"So where did you learn how to do all of this? Was this in your fancy business school? 

"I've been doing this for Saito for over 10 years. Wharton just gave me a nice paper baptism: clean my name, make me look representable."

"So, so what did you do before?"

"Saito Corporation had many connections to various groups and companies within Japan. You had to in those days, if you wanted to survive. Government started cracking down on it and anyone associated and punished anyone associated with them. My job was to make sure that Saito had clean hands to show the government." 

"So you've done this before."

"I've done worse before." He spoke not with malice but with the same tone one speaks about a resume, as he reviewed audit reports and employee records. The Natsels had successfully siphoned millions worth of equipment and tech out of Saito, and a short list of examples needed to be created. Behind Kente's head the crowded yellow buildings filled with shops and patrons and people hanging their laundry flew by the city and the car as they drove to their next destination until they get stopped by a stuck by a motorcade of bikes.

"Hold on we're being stopped."

The somewhat hefty man wearing a yellow police man's uniform, pit stains from sweat, clearly visible, walked up and tapped on the window. 

"Just show them my badge, and Magisterial Seal." Kente said, absentmindedly handing the two from his wallet, which Anh pushes back.

"Terrible idea, just keep your head low. 

"Xin chào Chú,"

"There is a curfew under the magistrate's orders. Are you on official business?"

"No. My apologies sir, my husband just got out of the hospital, I just need to drive him home."

"Do you have the hospital papers? His ID?"

Anh snatches a random Manila folder with documents and stuffs a clump of Saigon Real into it. She hands the folder over.  The guard opens the folder, pretends to read it, nods, and hands back the ID, with the cash missing.

"Just get home quickly, Mrs Nguyen."

They roll up the window and continue. 

"I don't know about you, but I suspect the Saito Corp name isn't very good right now. I don't think you want your whereabouts recorded."

Kente nodded in agreement, wondering perhaps maybe she wasn't as naïve as she first appeared. She tossed the folder back as Missy congratulated her on her savviness.

"I don't know what they teach in those nice American business schools, but I think Saito has a lot to learn about how things are done here."

"If you're this knowledgeable, Anh, why were you so stupid?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You know what one thing I did learn in Wharton? Have you ever heard of a scalp?"

 Anh shook her head and said, "Is it an acronym? Americans love those: Standard...Corporate...Attitudes?"

"It a trophy or proof of kill. American Tribals used to claim them to show off how many settlers they killed to gain favor with the tribe."

"Is that what you do, Kente-san? You collect scalps?"

"That is exactly what I do, and you were stupid enough to offer yours."

Anh tries to ignore the comment, but her hands on the wheel tighten a bit.

"Are you talking about the gun. I had that gun under Saito Corp's permission to protect personnel."

"You have the gun to protect Saito Property while offering plausible deniability."

"What do you mean it was an official reserve program, I got a stipend and training, and well, I should have had training, but."

Missy, read the pertinent section on The Saito  Waiver:

The avatar on his haiku unit transformed to show Missy wearing glasses as she read the paper aloud. Kente didn't look, nor did Anh, this was merely part of her role, which was always performed optimally.

"Section 4.3a I understand that if I am caught with an illegal weapon, Saito Corp will deny any involvement with, issuing or authorizing the weapon, which will be reported as stolen by a third party." 

"This was part of the terms for you to collect your stipend." Anh was silent.

"I'm not going to fault you for self-defense. What was stupid, Anh, is how long have you worked here again?"

"Five years," she boasted.

"If you've been working here five years, you should know better than this. Why did you agree to enter into that room? "

"Because my boss ordered me to....What are you getting at, Kente?:

"Vietnamese local, at scene of riot, video footage of using firearm, found trying to escape. My job is to claim a scalp to present to the Patriarch. Your boss has offered me yours."

 Anh tried to keep her composure while using practiced breathing exercises her Buddhist uncle taught her.

"I see. Well, I was planning on getting my hair done tomorrow. So what color scalp do you want?"

"I'm not taking it. You're too dumb to be a scalp."

"Thank you?" Anh tried to hide the insult and looked out the window.

"The only one dumber than you in this case is your boss.  Offering the Archbishop you? One of his own citizens? They don't realize how insulting that is to him. The Archbishop is many things, but he's not a stupid man. As Saigon is being renegotiated with Saito Corp, closing ranks to offer them a Vietnamese girl as a little terrorist instigator isn't going to give him any more relief or peace."

Anh understood: "Ohh, If anything, that's going to make things worse wouldn't it? Wait, Is Saito going to get kicked out?" 

"If Mishamoto has his way, we will lose the entire region in the name of provencialism. You're not going to work as a scalp."

"So you need someone Japanese?"

"HICE has every reason to shut down negotiations. A regional manager falling on his sword, won't fix things, but its the entry ticket. Proof that we're willing to work towards the future."

"So what happens to me now? You want me to rat on my boss? "

"No, I'm your boss now, and you're going to help me with my investigation. I've already put in a call to Saito International. Your boss will receive a fax recommending that you be transferred over to the VP of compliance. He will accept. You are now under my direct payroll, which means whatever I tell you to do, you will do."

Anh stopped the car. Kente, casually sitting on the car with his back on the door slid to collide with the back of Anh's seat. Missy slid and hit the edge of her scream in solidarity.

"Let's get one thing straight, Kente. I am not going to be passed around again. Not by Saito, not by The Magistrate, and not by you." Anh's voice flared as she found her confidence. "I'll work for you, Kente. I'll show you the city, I'll grease the wheels of your operation, and I'll be your Vietnamese liaison. But it's on my terms. I almost walked out of this company, and I'll still do it."

"So what do you want, a raise, a promotion?"

"No - well, yes, that too, no, this isn't a counter offer yet, consider, agh. Look, I'm the first Vietnamese to climb the ranks in Saito, and they used me. I looked the Magistrate and Archbishop in the eye and I lied to them."

"You didn't knowingly lie to them, Anh-sama." Missy interjected.

"You think that matters in this country? I think they knew that."

"So what are you asking for?"

"I want a scalp, Kente. I want Mishamoto. If you can't send him to the archbishop, send him back to Aichi a disgrace."

"Done. Welcome to Saito International."