Atsuko Arimura like so many of the newer generation of Japanese diplomats was horrified by the reputation her nations citizens had gained as cruel and uncaring terrorists laboring every corner of the globe. The possibility that a Tokyo based right wing political group might be involved in the planning and actual bombing of a government run facility in the south of England was stomach churningly embarrassing and beyond any reasonable explanation. She was however obliged in the circumstances to provide every assistance to her counterparts in the British special services. Quite how the connections between such separate and seeming independent fascist organizations came about was a mystery, except for historically truth that the underground Nippon political leagues were outright leaders in all unsolved and successful mass casualty terrorist incidents. Not a claim to fame that the Japanese state and its military elite was particular proud to admit. That Major Henry Neville had visited the Tokyo region quite recently on a fact-finding mission was not a helpful factor.
Claudine Millar had met Atsuko Arimura at one of the myriad of weekend parties that transpire constantly in summer London dykedom. From recollection the event had taken place in Clapham, located in a mutual acquaintances rather splendid free-standing mansion directly overlooking the common. Claudine was as usual just testing and tasting all available opportunities when her eyes had been by accosted by the delicious image of Miss Atsuko, clothed from tip to toe in the tightest skinniest covering of black leather it had ever been Claudine’s great joy to witness. Claude herself was dressed in the very fetching style of a Marlene Dietrich tail suit, complete with silk top hat and aviator sunglasses. The scintillating pairing most precisely designed for immediate interaction, and an ongoing alternatingly boiling and fridged relationship.
The urgent was quickly resolved leaning against a very conveniently located garden wall within a matter of minutes, and the continual switching betwixt very hot and extremely cold was destined to carry on as long as they both were situated in the same approximate hemisphere.
No matter their rather inflammatory personal relationship the two has the most profound respect for each other’s professional abilities, and with the merest nudge from Tobias Jones of the Foreign Office in Atsuko’s direction she was quite happy to meet and exchange all pertinent intelligence.
Atsuko Arimura arrived at refugee center in the rear of Lothlys limousine, with the experienced hands of the very amiable Gordon at the wheel. Claudine and Atsuko greeted each other with very professional and deferential mini bows, indicating to all onlookers an extreme level of mutual respect.
“Welcome to the world of British immigration policy and procedure. “
“Thank you, segreant Millar, I do hope my presence today will aid somewhat with your difficult investigations.”
“Excuse me sergeant.”
“Hello, Gordon, always good to see you.”
“The Colonel instructed me to take yourself and Mizz Arimura to lunch, all at the Colonel’s expense of course.”
“See you at 12.30 then Gordon.”
Gordon gave one of his comical little salutes and hastily returned to the sanctity of his driving seat.
“We look a bit like Tweedledee and Tweedledum. “
Both of the girls were wearing almost matching Harris tweed three-piece suits.
“My shoes are nicer.”
Claudine looked down so she could only admire Atsuko’s Ox Blood red ankle boots.
“They are rather splendid.”
“Atsuko Arimura, is that you I see sneaking out of a flashy a limousine to visit us lesser mortals?”
The dulcet tones of Zara Amin’s slightly cheeky greeting echoed just a little in the partially demolished entry way.
“Zara? You visiting too? How coincidental to meet thus.”
Zara and Atsuko exchanged a very practiced hug and kiss. Claudine was surprised and a little excited by the prospective possibilities.