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anything about that,” Ishiguro said. “But let me assure you, if any tapes exist, they are yours to examine.”
    “Thank you,” Connor said. “Unfortunately, it seems thecrucial tapes have been removed from the Nakamoto security office.”
    “Removed? Gentlemen, I believe there must be some mistake.”
    The mayor was watching this exchange closely.
    Connor said, “Perhaps, but I don’t think so. It would be reassuring, Mr. Ishiguro, if you were to look into this matter yourself.”
    “I certainly will,” Ishiguro said. “But I must say again. I can’t imagine, Captain Connor, that any tapes are missing.”
    “Thank you for checking, Mr. Ishiguro,” Connor said.
    “Not at all, Captain,” he said, still smiling. “It is my pleasure to assist you in whatever way I can.”
    “The son of a bitch,” I said. We were driving west on the Santa Monica freeway. “The little prick looked us right in the eye and
lied.
”
    “It’s annoying,” Connor said. “But you see, Ishiguro takes a different view. Now that he is beside the mayor, he sees himself in another context, with another set of obligations and requirements for his behavior. Since he is sensitive to context, he’s able to act differently, with no reference to his earlier behavior. To us, he seems like a different person. But Ishiguro feels he’s just being appropriate.”
    “What burns me is he acted so confident.”
    “Of course he did,” Connor said. “And he would be quite surprised to learn that you’re angry with him. You consider him immoral. He considers you naive. Because for a Japanese, consistent behavior is not possible. A Japanese becomes a different person around people of different rank. He becomes a different person when he moves through different rooms of his own house.”
    “Yeah,” I said. “That’s fine, but the fact is he’s a lying son of a bitch.”
    Connor looked at me. “Would you talk that way to your mother?”
    “Of course not.”
    “So you change according to context, too,” Connor said. “The fact is we all do. It’s just that Americans believe thereis some core of individuality that doesn’t change from one moment to the next. And the Japanese believe context rules everything.”
    “It sounds to me,” I said, “like an excuse for lying.”
    “He doesn’t see it as lying.”
    “But that’s what it
is.
”
    Connor shrugged. “Only from your point of view,
kōhai.
Not from his.”
    “The hell.”
    “Look, it’s your choice. You can understand the Japanese and deal with them as they are, or you can get pissed off. But our problem in this country is that we don’t deal with the Japanese the way they really are.” The car hit a deep pothole, bouncing so hard that the car phone fell off the receiver. Connor picked it up off the floor, and put it back on the hook.
    Up ahead, I saw the exit for Bundy. I moved into the right lane. “One thing I’m not clear about,” I said. “Why do you think the man with the briefcase in the security room might be the killer?”
    “It’s because of the time sequence. You see, the murder was reported at eight thirty-two. Less than fifteen minutes later, at eight forty-five, a Japanese man was down there switching the tapes, arranging a cover-up. That’s a very fast response. Much too fast for a Japanese company.”
    “Why is that?”
    “Japanese organizations are actually very slow to respond in a crisis. Their decision-making relies on precedents, and when a situation is unprecedented, people are uncertain how to behave. You remember the faxes? I am sure faxes have been flying back and forth to Nakamoto’s Tokyo headquarters all night. Undoubtedly the company is still trying to decide what to do. A Japanese organization simply cannot move fast in a new situation.”
    “But an individual acting alone can?”
    “Yes. Exactly.”
    I said, “And that’s why you think the man with the briefcase may be the killer.”
    Connor nodded. “Yes. Either the killer,