The Sudo's

So Johnny Foreigner Bank call us and say "Yes, God, yes, of course you can have a loan. How much do you want?"
Nice Johnny Foreigner Bank (NJFB).
Amidst all the cheering and popping of champagne corks, NJFB say they need a couple of things from us, including some documents from Sudo home.
Cheering immediately stops. Cue ominous sound of distant thunder.
"Ahh", I hesitantly reply, "that would entail me contacting Sudo Home again, would it?"
"Yes".
Ominous sound of distant thunder grows louder.
"You wouldn't like to contact them yourselves, directly like", I offer.
"No. You need to do it."
Ominous sound of thunder growing louder and not so distant anymore.
"Right then", I mutter, "I, emm, will see what I can do".
Forked lightening flashes outside my office window. Wind begins to moan, a low and anguished sound.
Hands shaking, I pick up the phone.
I put it back down again.
I need to figure out who I need to speak to.
Sudo somebody. The guy in charge of the real estate section. The guy who rang us the week before and sent a small earthquake of panic rippling through the greater Muroran area. Him. And I can't remember the fecker's first name.
Ahh, but I have a copy of the purchase contract here with me in the office. And there is his name. Written in kanji. Laboriously translate the name - Sudo, Toshi...ko...Sudo Toshiko, that's my man.
Thunder has stopped and sunlight seems to be breaking through the clouds outside. Pick up the phone and ring the office.
"Hello, this is Brian Gaynor. Can I speak to Sudo Toshiko, please".
"Sorry", replies the secretary, "could you say your name again, please?"
Repeat my name.
"Ahh, Mr. Gaynor. Ahh, yes". There is a note of fear in her voice. In the background I hear screams, what sounds like a panic stampede to the exits, and the sound of glass breaking.
"And, ehh, you want to speak to..."
"Mr. Sudo Toshiko, please".
There is a momentarily silence at the other end of the line. I'm not sure, but I think I can hear tumbleweeds blowing through the empty office.
"Sorry, who?"
"Mr Sudo Toshiko".
"Ehh, nobody by that name works here".
The momentarily silence is now at my end of the line.
"Erhhhh..." Panic grips me too.
"Do you mean Toshihiro Sudo, the company president?" she offers helpfully.
I lose all reason and blabber, "No, no, he's not the president, he's much younger than that".
"Maybe Vice-President Sudo...?"
"No, not him either", I say in an increasingly shrill voice. "He's a young guy. Has a full head of hair. In charge of the real estate section". Christ, how many feckin Sudo's are there in the shagging company?
The secretary is by now completely convinced that everything she has heard about 'Gaynor, the mad foreigner' is true.
"Ehhh, do you mean Sudo Masatoshi..?"
"Yes! yes! of course! Sudo Masatoshi! My man Masatoshi. That's who I want. Put that fecker on the phone now!" Oh, sweet relief.
A pause.
"Sudo Masatoshi speaking".
"Ahh Mr. Masatoshi. At last. It's so good to hear your voice. Forgive me. Good morning to you. Listen, about the home loan, we need to get a few more documents from you".
"The home loan?"
"Yes, the home loan", obviously old Masatoshi hasn't had his necessary fill of morning coffee. "The bank need you to send them the following documents".
"The bank...?"
"Yes, the bank, Shinsei Bank, down in Tokyo. The bank we are getting the loan from. The bank you have been negotiating with on our behalf". Jesus, you'd swear Masatoshi ate a extra big bowl of retard rice for breakfast this morning.
Another pause. Finally he says,
"Sorry, who is this?"
A terrible feeling settles upon me.
"Ehh, Brian Gaynor, from Muroran", I hoarsely whisper.
"And this is about?"
"The house in Tenjin-cho".
"Ahh, Mr. Mad Foreigner Brian Gaynor-san. I have heard of you. I have, however, thankfully never met you before in my hitherto peaceful life. The person you need to talk to Sudo Takashi".
"Sudo Takashi."
"Yes. And unfortunately, he is out of the office all day. Will I get him to call you this evening?"
"Call me?", I mutter, "No, ask him to call my wife..."