I perfected my plan of operations.
Ashimoko’s shop stood in central grandeur among a cluster of other smart store fronts, most of them displaying cameras, binoculars, electronic wonders, and delicate pottery. I went in, putting on my most impressively businesslike expression. Of the clerk behind the first display case I came to, I inquired for Mr. Ashimoko himself. Japanese clerks in swank shops, unlike cabdrivers, do speak English. I was directed politely to an elevator at the rear of the sumptuous store.
doOn the third floor of the building I stepped out into a deeply-carpeted, tastefully-decorated reception room, guarded by a young Japanese girl seated at a desk before a pair of carved doors. I presented my card, asking for Mr. Ashimoko. Within two minutes, I was facing him across his
