Clear and Present Danger
On Tuesday, Bernard kept his promise and gave Takuya a "real California -style relaxation" experience.
Instead of choosing those noisy tourist attractions, he Takuya to a secluded beach restaurant in Malibu.
Sunshine, waves, sand, and chilled lemonade served by a lightly dressed waiter.
"How about that? This is life, right?" Bernard took off his sunglasses and stretched comfortably. "Forget about producers, scripts, and damn copyright contracts. Today, all we're concerned with is getting a tan."
Takuya took a sip of lemonade, the sweet and sour taste melting on his tongue.
He looked at the surfers in the distance, smiled, and shook his head. "Bernard, I find you're more of a California than Tom."
"Of course, I grew up here." Bernard raised his eyebrows smugly. "Tom, that guy, all he thinks about are numbers and market share, a typical Redwood City workaholic. Unlike us, who understand art and—enjoying life."
After a short rest, the two boarded a flight to Washington.
As they stepped out of Washington International Airport, they were no longer greeted by the lazy, hot California breeze, but rather by a cool, oppressive atmosphere belonging to the center of power.
The two spent the night at an airport hotel.
The next morning, they rented a Ford sedan and drove to Owings, Maryland.
The scenery along the way changes from the city to the countryside, with continuous green spaces and sparse houses on both sides of the road.
It's quiet and peaceful here, seemingly several dimensions removed from the bustling world of Los Angeles.
"I can't believe the person who wrote ' The Hunt for Red October ' lives here." Bernard looked out the window, feeling that his designer suit was completely out of place in this environment.
"Perhaps that's why he was able to calm down and carefully conceive those captivating stories," Takuya said.
Clancy's insurance company was located on an inconspicuous little street in town.
A two-story red brick building with a simple wooden sign hanging at the entrance that reads "Clancy Insurance Associates".
As I pushed open the door, a middle-aged woman sat at the reception desk, engrossed in processing documents. Without looking up, she asked, "Do you have an appointment?"
"Yes, ma'am." Bernard cleared his throat, trying to sound more formal. "We have an appointment with Mr. Tom Clancy at 2 p. m., from Sega Corporation."
"Sega?" The woman looked up, her scrutinizing gaze sweeping over the two of them before finally settling on Takuya's overly youthful Asian face.
Her eyes were expressionless; she simply pointed to a row of waiting chairs nearby. "Sit over there and wait. Mr. Clancy is still on the phone."
Bernard, who is usually a VIP in Hollywood, was now fidgeting and constantly adjusting his tie.
He was really uncomfortable with this atmosphere that required patience, while Takuya next to him calmly surveyed the layout of the office.
The minute hand pointed to two o'clock. The office door clicked open.
A slightly overweight man, wearing an ordinary plaid shirt and black-rimmed glasses, walked out.
He seemed more like a kind community accountant than the king of military novels who could command thousands of troops.
He was still holding a document in his hand, and his gaze lingered on Takuya and Bernard for a moment.
"Someone from Sega?" His voice was flat, revealing neither joy nor anger.
"Yes, Mr. Clancy!" Bernard immediately stood up, his face plastered with the most professional smile.
Clancy's gaze passed over him and went straight to Takuya, and to the briefcase in his hand that looked like it was stuffed full.
"Half an hour," he said succinctly. "I have a meeting later. Come in."
As soon as the two sat down, Tom Clancy pointed to the clock on the wall and got straight to the point.
"I know you're here to discuss ' The Hunt for Red October,' but the movie is releasing next month, so time is tight."
His gaze swept over the two of them, a hint of undisguised scrutiny in his eyes. "Tell me, how do you plan to turn my book into a hastily produced Christmas turkey?"
These words were exactly the same as what the agent had said on the phone, without any politeness.
Bernard's professional smile froze on his face. Just as he was about to explain, Takuya laughed first.
"Mr. Clancy, we have no interest in turkeys." Takuya's voice was calm, yet it directly overturned all of the other party's assumptions. "More precisely, we are not here for the authorization of <The Hunt for Red October>."
Clancy paused slightly, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of him, adopting a listening posture. "Oh?"
"With current game technology, it's difficult to depict the intricate tactical atmosphere of teamwork and coordination throughout a submarine, where the entire crew works together like gears meshing," Takuya frankly stated. "What players can experience is probably just the simple act of launching torpedoes."
Or you could look at moving dots of light on a sonar screen. This simply cannot recreate the intellectual battles between top minds you describe.
That would only reduce it to a mediocre shooting game. That would not only be an insult to your work, but also an insult to my own reputation.
Takuya paused, then added the most crucial sentence, "We at Sega don't want to end up like Atari, burying those unsellable junk games in the desert."
"The Atari Disaster," Clancy repeated the word under his breath, his eyes completely changing.
He took off his glasses and slowly wiped them with a velvet cloth, leaving only the monotonous ticking of the wall clock in the office.
When Clancy put her glasses back on, the scrutiny and wariness in her eyes as she looked at Takuya disappeared, replaced by a genuine curiosity and a sense of equality.
"That's interesting. So, what do you want?"
"<Clear and Present Danger>."
As Takuya stated the book's title, he opened his overflowing briefcase and neatly laid out a thick stack of manuscripts on the mahogany desk in front of Clancy.
"I heard that Paramount has already started preparing for a film adaptation of this novel, is that right?"
Clancy did not answer the question; his attention was completely drawn to the drawings on the table.
He was stunned.
This is a building floor plan, a tactical assault route map, clearly marked with different colored pencils indicating the range of fire coverage, accompanying arrows, sniper positions, and possible locations of the hostages.
Each image reads like a real special forces operations briefing.
"What we want to make is not a mindless game where players just charge forward with guns." Takuya pointed to one of the mall's floor plans, which showed a red route that led from the parking lot through the ventilation ducts to the mall's monitoring room.
"This is the 'Tactical Planning' interface. Before the mission begins, players must study the map repeatedly here, allocate equipment to their squad members, set engagement rules, plan infiltration routes, and specify details such as the special equipment each person needs to carry and when to launch the assault."
Takuya's voice wasn't loud, but it seemed to possess a kind of magic, instantly pulling Clancy into the world he had created.
"This is the true essence of your novel—rigor and professionalism; in the face of information asymmetry, strategic planning to achieve the goal at the lowest possible cost."
"To ensure the game's professionalism, we'll hire real military advisors. For example, the France GIGN; their retired members are relatively easy to contact." Takuya shrugged, a perfectly measured hint of helplessness on his face. "After all, Delta Force files are classified, and retired personnel aren't allowed to disclose their service history. We don't have the ability to find them."
one,
He changed the subject, looking at Clancy with sincere eyes. "Of course, if you have more suitable connections in the military and could introduce us, Sega would be extremely grateful."