The Secret Meaning of Blossom: a fast-moving spy thriller set in Japan

by T. M. Parris

  At the top Mirai got off and hurried left. Running wasn’t possible in the packed concourse. The man did the same. Rose was close enough to see which exit they took, and followed. It became a long wide corridor, well lit, not empty but with plenty of space. Now was his chance to catch up with her, if that was his intention. He broke into a run. Mirai turned and saw, then started running herself. But she didn’t have the shoes for it.

  An unsigned junction came up on the right and she darted into it and disappeared. The man sped up and followed. Rose heard a shout and some shrieks, but could see nothing. She hurried up. The man was sitting on the ground at the bottom of an escalator which led up to the street. He was holding his face. No wonder: it was a down escalator. Two or three people had stopped, holding back, watching him. There was no sign of Mirai. He picked himself up; there was blood on his face. He backed up a few steps and the murmuring intensified as the onlookers realised what he was about to do. Those on the escalator shuffled to one side. He took a run at it. His boots hammered the steps as he ran flat out to keep ahead of the downward momentum. After a long frenzy of movement he made it to the top, leaving sounds of wonder and disapproval in his wake.

  Rose sprinted to the next exit which, fortunately, had stairs. She ran up and came out on a wide street next to a vast interchange. At every junction a mass of pedestrians was backed up on the pavement waiting to cross. She started pushing to the front to jump the traffic, but as she did so the lights changed and the whole wave surged into the road. She pressed forward, buried deep in the crowd.

  A flash of scarlet. Mirai had just walked straight past her. Rose didn’t respond until she’d gone right past, then she turned to look which way the woman was heading. She turned back and walked right into someone. It was the man. He gave her a nasty look and hurried after Mirai. Rose turned and followed.

  Mirai took a smaller road leading diagonally off the main junction. Though she was managing a lot better than Rose could do herself in heels like those, the man was gaining on her. What was he going to do to her? An act of violence right out here in the open would be conspicuous and unusual. But Mirai must have reason to fear the man. He was maybe ten paces behind her now. She darted up some steps and disappeared under an archway into a pink-tiled building. The man followed, but stopped at the top. Rose got closer. The man’s progress was being halted by a security guard. An argument was going on. A banner hung on the railings outside the building but it was entirely in Japanese. Another security guard joined the first. The man realised he wasn’t going to get in. He stared briefly through the archway where Mirai had disappeared, then turned and walked off.

  Rose waited until he and the security guards had gone and took some photos of the building. She needed help now. Walking back to Shibuya, she phoned Tim Gardner and gave him a run-down.

  “That sounds like progress,” he said. “Listen, I’m tied up now, family, you know.”

  “Oh yes, of course.” Rose had forgotten it was a Sunday.

  “But come along this evening. I’m going to an opening night. Some fancy new restaurant. They’re meant to be all the rage, these places. Anyway, all kinds of folk will be there. Good place to get out and do the day job. It’s a plus one and the wife’s not interested. So be my guest.”

  “Sure, sounds fine,” said Rose.

  But when Gardner told her the name of the place, her heart sank.

  Chapter 15

  Trade Winds Tokyo enjoyed pride of place in Roppongi, within staggering distance of the central crossroads where the crowd hanging out was so diverse you could be in any country in the world. The new addition fit well with the numerous other internationally-themed bars, restaurants, clubs and casinos, which all seemed as busy on a Sunday evening as any other day of the week. Rose had never been inside a Trade Winds, but she knew what to expect. She also knew who else she’d find in there, as it was no secret that John Fairchild had a controlling interest in the pan-Asian-going-on-global chain.

  Should she have called him to tell him she was coming? Even before Gardner invited her to the opening, she had a pretty good idea that Fairchild was in Japan and why. It was she, after all, who’d told him about the third print, now destroyed, and encouraged him – asked him – to keep digging into it. Someone in MI6 was close to Grom, and these prints, Fairchild and his parents, Walter and possibly Salisbury were all connected in some way with some buried secret that wasn’t entirely buried any more. So she had her motivations for encouraging Fairchild in this quest.

  He’d agreed, of course. Though she didn’t like to admit it, she knew how he felt about her. Was she using him? Yes, probably. But he was the only person from outside the Service who could dig deep enough to unearth this particular body. He would have no idea she was in Japan. So probably she should let him know. She didn’t, though. She didn’t have time, she told herself. She had to buy something to wear, then get from Shibuya back to the hotel to get ready, then out to Roppongi again. A pretty lame excuse, but never mind.

  The clothes shopping turned out to be a bust. She found a couple of dresses that would have been okay but they didn’t have them in her size. Being on the small side in Europe, it was a shock to be in a place where she was too huge to find clothes that fit. So she bought a scarf and matching clutch bag, and went back to the hotel to make do with a stretchy little black number she’d thrown into her suitcase at the last minute.

  They’d made quite a fuss of the event; there was even a red carpet outside. No sign of Fairchild at the entrance, though. Rose wasn’t sure why she felt so nervous. Having to dress up smartly always put her on edge, even though it was often needed for the official part of her job. She was told that Gardner was already inside so she wandered in, grabbed a glass of champagne and went to find him.

  It didn’t take long. Gardner had felt the need to put on a spotted bowtie, for some reason, and was already circulating.

  “Rose! Let me introduce you.”

  Rose allowed herself to be presented to a senior Japanese couple, but pulled Gardner aside as soon as she could: “I need to show you something.” If she didn’t prise him away from other guests, the evening would be a waste of time.

  In a quiet corner she showed him the photos of Mirai and the other two on her phone. He looked blank. “I don’t recognise them, but why should I, really? It’s quite common, this cosplay thing. But if they’re really obsessed with it, they could be otaku.”

  “Otaku? What’s that?”

  “Well, it’s what they’re calling it when someone develops a passion or obsession with something like a video game or a manga character. It’s more than just dressing up, it’s studying every fact to do with them, and dedicating huge amounts of time to knowing all about them and resembling them as best they can. It can be unkind, like calling someone a geek or a nerd. But it can just be a word for people who get into things. And a lot of people in these parts really get into things.”

  “Yes, I’ve noticed. Can you tell what this place is?” Rose showed him the photo of the building Mirai had gone into. Gardner frowned, reading the banner.

  “It’s a university building. Tokyo University of Economics. Shibuya campus.”

  “So she’s a student! They probably all are.”

  “Well, they certainly look young enough. This otaku is something that the youth go for in particular. Most of them grow out of it, but not all by any means.”

  “Why would three students latch onto my brother?”

  “You have me there, I’m afraid. No idea.”

  “And why did they look so incredibly miserable?”

  “Well, I don’t think being a teenager in Japan is a lot of fun. Most get through those years walking around in a zombie-like state. It might be all the cramming they have to do to get through their exams. Anyway, it’s not a time of great freedoms. You know suicide amongst young people is very common here.”

  “I’d heard something like that.”

  “There was one that made the news recently, actuall
y, speaking of otaku. The boy was dressed exactly like – oh, what was the name? Cartoon boy, a sort of robot with special powers?”

  Rose could only look blank. She hadn’t thought to mug up on comics before coming out here.

  “Astro Boy!” Gardner exclaimed, loud enough for people to turn round and look. “That’s the one. Yes, quite sad really. He jumped off a tall building. Did it at three in the morning to make sure he didn’t take anybody out. Went head first, as if he was doing one of those Astro Boy swoops through the air.” Gardner raised his hand in a kind of Superman-flying pose. “Sadly, however much you might want to fly…of course it’s only speculation that he was trying to fly. I feel sure it was a suicide myself. Plenty of discussion was had.”

  “James seems to think they’re hackers,” said Rose. “He thinks they got into his email and were tracking his location. Any joy with the phone and laptop?”

  “Nothing on the devices themselves. But if it’s to do with hacking, it’s GCHQ you want. You’re better off talking to Walter. Ah! Here’s the boss himself. I’d introduce you but I hear you already know each other.”

  She turned, and there was John Fairchild, his grey eyes amused, looking suave in a silk suit and dress shirt, but fortunately no spotted bowtie.

  “Welcome,” he said. “I heard you were in Tokyo. What a nice surprise.”

  Chapter 16

  Tim Gardner had let Fairchild know who his plus one guest was. So Fairchild was forewarned. Without that he’d have struggled to carry it off. Even so, it was all he could do not to stare. He didn’t get to see Rose in a clingy dress very often, but he thought about it a lot.

  Last time they met, she’d shocked him with her suspicions and her appeal for help. That was in France. He thought she was still there. Why was she in Japan? Gardner had been circumspect. Fairchild couldn’t imagine it had anything to do with him, though a part of him leaped for joy at the mere idea.

  Gardner shook him by the hand. “You’ve done well tonight, Fairchild, getting the great and the good along to this shindig.”

  “Well, we want to get the word out that we’re here. Particularly amongst people such as yourself and those who move in your circles.”

  Fairchild had used his network to enhance the guest list, and other means; Takao was here, of course, talking to Carmel, the woman he’d moved up to manage the entire chain after meeting her in Manila and deciding to buy the business.

  “Yes, yes, well, this event will help, as will the prices, I’m sure.” Gardner turned to Rose. “The only place in the world where the popularity of goods increases when the price goes up! Of course I do remember what you said, Fairchild, something about a favour. Flattered, I’m sure.”

  “Well, if there’s anything I can do for you.”

  “Perhaps so! Maybe you can help out our friend here!” Gardner indicated Rose. “Since you know her already. She’s in a bit of a situation, you see, and our resources aren’t really up to the job. Maybe you can have a chat, see if you can assist.”

  It was elegantly done. Gardner was certainly a smooth operator.

  “Timothy!” A voice bellowed from behind Fairchild’s head. A large American, Tim’s equivalent at the US Embassy, Fairchild happened to know, was standing in a huddle nearby.

  “Barclay! No need to shout, my good man!” Gardner’s response was barely quieter than the American’s.

  “Come join us! Now!”

  Tim turned back to them. “Oops, better go. Have to be nice to our cousins, don’t we?”

  He went to receive a loud back-slapping greeting, leaving Fairchild and Rose standing. Fairchild remembered a previous occasion a little like this, a reception at the Hermitage Museum in St Petersburg. That was a year ago now, and they knew each other better. A little better, anyway. He started trying to formulate some pleasantry but she got there first.

  “This favour from Tim. I suppose it has something to do with woodcut prints?”

  He smiled. “Yes, I’m afraid so. I’m yet to make any serious headway, I’m sorry to say. I’ve known Gardner a while.”

  “Of course.” It was probably irritating that he seemed better connected within MI6 than she was as an officer – but that had taken a lot of work and there were reasons for it. Gardner was a nice fellow, one of the better ones. “So how’s Paris?” he asked. “Are you spending a lot of time looking over your shoulder?”

  When they last talked, Rose had told him that her team in France had been compromised, lives endangered and the mission very nearly sabotaged, because Grom had somehow been tipped off that she was there. But he and she were the only two people who knew this, a truth that triggered that persistent light-headed mix of elation that she’d trusted only him, and fear that he wouldn’t succeed in finding out who the mole was.

  “I did,” she said. “But I didn’t see anything. Whether that means there wasn’t anything to see…” She sighed. This situation was affecting her, damaging the foundations that her adult life had been based on, her belief in and loyalty to the Service.

  “You saw it last time,” he said.

  “Because he wanted me to. Because he was playing games. Maybe he’s playing a game now. Would I regret asking you how you knew I was in Paris?”

  “Yes, you probably would.” A waiter was passing with a tray. “May I offer you a themed cocktail?” He grabbed a couple of glasses. “This is a Seven Seas. Invented for this evening. Rum and various other things.”

  Rose’s eyebrows lifted at the decorative fruit and umbrellas that adorned the drink, but she took it after only the slightest hesitation. Would she ever entirely trust him? She was only using him now because she had nobody else. He knew that, but had to hope. She sipped.

  “Not bad. It’s certainly a colourful place.” She nodded at the nautically-themed décor. This was their most dramatic outfitting so far; a full-length window displayed a scale model of a tea clipper, and various Silk Route and Asian-European trade related items graced walls and corners. “Do you really think it will take off as a place for discreet conversations? It’s not exactly the Oxford and Cambridge Club.”

  “This isn’t exactly London. It’s worked elsewhere. But even if it doesn’t, it’s profitable. You know I buy these things as going concerns. I’m not really a businessman, though the income’s useful.”

  A pause.

  “Seen Zack lately?” asked Rose.

  “We crossed paths in Taipei. He’s been drawn into the latest South China Sea controversy.”

  She nodded. “Zoe?”

  She said it so casually. He wondered if the name might come up. Zoe was out at sea somewhere, no longer part of Fairchild’s life. Rose had no idea the pull she had on him, and what that cost him.

  “Somewhere in the Caribbean, I’m told.” He managed to sound off-hand. He tried the cocktail. Pretty good, though at that moment he’d have preferred something stronger. “So,” he asked. “Am I permitted to know—”

  “My brother.” She looked almost embarrassed. “Why I’m in Japan. It’s my brother.” She didn’t want to tell him, clearly, but after Tim’s introduction wasn’t left with much of a choice. “He came here for a conference and thinks he’s attracted some unwelcome attention.”

  Her eyes were dark. She’d never revealed anything personal about herself. She seemed almost angry that this brother of hers had put her in this situation.

  “Sounds intriguing,” he said. “What kind of attention?”

  “Hackers. He has some sensitive R&D role in IT security, so he’s just informed me. Crypto currency. Cold wallets. I suppose you’re into all of that. Bitcoin and so on?”

  The question sounded like an aside, but he could tell it wasn’t. Fairchild had a financial advisor who looked after his holdings in a conventional and respectable way. He also had friends in more informal sectors, and a fairly comprehensive understanding of the pros and cons of decentralised finance.

  “I have a modest portfolio,” he said.

  “Of course you do. Worth milli
ons, is it?”

  He smiled. It wasn’t, but he wouldn’t be drawn into that. He’d set himself up with a crypto account to get an understanding of how that world worked. The links with secrecy and the dark web were undeniable, even though crypto trading itself was perfectly legal and above board.

  “So, how has this attention affected your brother?” he asked. “It must be pretty serious if you’re here.”

  A flash of annoyance crossed her face, but he hadn’t meant it as a criticism. Rose had always been focused, and so was he.

  “He’s currently hiding away in a capsule hotel from a group of students who dress up as characters from comic books.” She sounded incredulous herself.

  “How very Japanese.”

  “And there may be others involved. Less savoury individuals.”

  “What’s stopping him from just going home?”

  A pause. “It’s complicated.”

  “Ah. Well, if there’s anything—”

  “Fairchild!” A hearty thump on the shoulder alerted him to Takao’s arrival. “You are keeping your friends a secret from me! Come, come, I must know who this lady is!”

  He stepped forward looking unusually dapper in a dark suit, his hair neatly greased back. His wife had a hand in it, Fairchild suspected. He sometimes detected her influence, though he’d never met the woman.

  “This is Rose Clarke,” Fairchild said dutifully. “Rose works with the UK diplomatic service.” Takao looked suitably impressed. “Rose, Takao is my right hand man in Japan. My fixer.”

  “Good to meet you.” She smiled, seeming to find the idea amusing, and turned to Fairchild. “You don’t speak Japanese yourself, then?”

  “Oh, Fairchild speaks our language very well!” said Takao with the usual Japanese patronising tone. “But Japan, it’s not like anywhere else. I help him, you know, with whatever he needs.” He was a little obsequious.