Pacific Poison

by David Liscio

  The master chef had emphasized ingesting the toxin can lead to asphyxia and possibly death, and there is no antidote for fugu poisoning.

  Krill understood that despite the scary warnings, the thrill of eating something that might kill you can be addictive to some people.

  While Tanaka plied Hannah with expensive champagne, Akumu stationed herself in the kitchen and focused her attention on Krill, pretending to understand the fugu preparation. Akumu commented on the weather, but Krill ignored her because she wanted to hear what Tanaka was saying to Hannah in the next room.

  Akumu felt personally insulted by the rebuff. Inside she fumed with hatred, but her face remained placid. She began to sing as she peered out the kitchen door, her eyes on Tanaka who graciously poured more champagne for Hannah. “I get no kick from champagne. Mere alcohol doesn’t thrill me at all, so tell me why should it be true, that I get a kick out of you.”

  Akumu smiled at Krill. “I just love Cole Porter, don’t you?”

  38

  Fugu on the Menu

  Saipan

  Northern Mariana Islands

  April 1990

  Out on the balcony, Tanaka was convincing himself that Hannah found him attractive and would ultimately share his bed. He was feeling the effects of the champagne.

  Hannah was playing along, laughing at his stilted, chauvinistic humor and pretending she was interested in him not only as a business contact. She wondered whether Reb or Decker could see her out on the balcony. She removed one of her sandals, held it over the railing and pretended to shake out a small pebble that was causing discomfort, her signal to Reb and Decker that all was under control.

  Reb had made his way unseen through the jumble of rocks and boulders at the rear of the house where he could see the balcony. He radioed Carrington with the status report.

  Tanaka seemed puzzled by Hannah’s behavior. “A problem?”

  “No. Only a little stone that had found its way under my foot.”

  “Apparently the housekeeper needs to do a better job.”

  “Oh, no. It was certainly a stone from outside the house.”

  “Is the bubbly to your liking?”

  Hannah smiled coyly. She’d already dumped one glass full into a large indoor palm tree. “Absolutely. It’s a buoyant wine. I can feel the bubbles in my head.”

  Tanaka sat on the couch and patted the seat as a sign that Hannah should join him.

  He treats women like they’re dogs, Hannah thought to herself as she gracefully sat, leaving nearly a foot of space between them.

  Tanaka leaned closer, to where he could talk as though they were intimate friends. He imagined they were on a date. “You have no idea the joy it gives me to hear you say that about the champagne. I picked out this bottle especially for you – for us.”

  Hannah smiled, feigning deep appreciation. “Orochi, I can’t thank you enough for showing me all the special places on Saipan where my clients will be eager to explore.”

  “It is a pleasure. And I have many more to show you.”

  “I’ll look forward to that. But I feel bad that you know so much about me and have done so much for me, yet I know so little about you.”

  “There’s not much to tell.”

  “I don’t believe that. Not for a second.”

  “As you undoubtedly have guessed, I am yakuza.”

  “Honestly I’m not always sure what that means.”

  “It means I am yakuza — among the worthless ones.”

  Hannah furrowed her eyebrows and acted as though she was confused. “Worthless? You’re not worthless.”

  “That is what it means to be yakuza. Hundreds of years ago, in feudal Japan, men played the Flower Card game called hanafuda. Most of them were samurai bandits, outcasts who had no master. They were known as kabukimono – the crazy ones.”

  “But why do you say you’re worthless?”

  “The Flower Card game is like Blackjack, which I assume you are familiar with. In Blackjack, twenty-one is a winning hand. But in hanafuda, nineteen is a winning hand. If you are dealt 8-9-3, pronounced ya, ku, sa, you are a loser because it amounts to twenty. You are over the limit.”

  “But a simple card game can’t possibly reflect a person’s power, especially when it comes to a man like you.”

  Tanaka blushed. “Hanafuda is an old game. Today, we play a new one.”

  “And what might that be?”

  “We don’t play cards. We just take what we want.”

  “You mean businesses? Like corporate takeovers? Or literally anything?”

  Tanaka moved uneasily in his seat. He felt powerful and wanted to show this beautiful, blonde woman just how much influence he wielded. He assumed most of the men in her social circle were effete, overly polite, intellectual but not virile.

  “Yakuza do not take orders from anyone, not the Japanese government, not the United States of America. Nobody tells us what to do, or what not to do.”

  Hannah sipped her champagne. “I see.”

  “No. I’m not sure you do. In Japan, it is an honor to be yakuza. But in the United States, this social standing is considered criminal.”

  “So you’re a criminal here? In Saipan.”

  “Hai. Yes. These islands are territories of the United States, are they not? Although we are slowly taking them back.”

  Tanaka didn’t continue immediately. He was searching for the correct way to describe himself in a manner he felt certain Hannah would find irresistible.

  “Long ago, when I had opportunity to study world history, I recall reading about the creation of laws. I believe the lesson was simple. You can make all the laws you want, but they are meaningless unless you have the ability and willingness to enforce them.”

  “And you’re saying the United States imposes laws here but the people of Saipan do what they please regardless?”

  “The United States is far away — thousands of miles, and separated by a vast ocean. Their Marines came here to fight the Japanese and then they left, leaving behind only government bureaucrats to tax the natives, or to give them welfare money. There is no pride here among the native people these days. They have lost their skills and are quickly losing their culture.”

  “So why do you care so much?”

  “Who ever said that I care about what happens to the people of Saipan?”

  “I think you are still connected to the war and to what happened to you and your family.”

  “I weep for my ancestors. But today Saipan is no more than a business opportunity.”

  Hannah remained quiet. She made it clear she was thinking about her next question. “Before I came here, I heard only that Saipan was a drug-smuggler’s paradise, a place without law and order. It didn’t sound like a tourist destination.”

  “That may be true.”

  “There were stories in the news about creepy underworld criminals who use Saipan as a stopover for shipping drugs. It made my boss doubt Argentine tourists will want to come here. ”

  Tanaka gulped his champagne, belched, and thrust out his lower lip as though deeply offended. “I wouldn’t know about that. I am a business man and my business is hotels and casinos, not drugs.”

  “I’m so sorry. I never meant to imply you were part of any drug trafficking.”

  “There’s certainly truth in what you’ve read in the news. Heroin comes from Southeast Asia and somehow ends up in the United States where the people crave it like dogs eating discarded meat in a dark alley.”

  “I’m curious. How does that happen? Somebody grows poppies in Thailand or somewhere in that region, somebody else converts these beautiful flowers into powder, and other people figure out how to ship it to San Francisco, Los Angeles or wherever?”

  “You seem to have a keen interest in the subject.”

  “I’m no geography expert, but I think it’s the distance from Thailand to the coast of California that caught my attention. As you just said, the United States is such a long way from here with the Paci
fic in between. I read somewhere – maybe it was an article in Clarin or the Buenos Aires Times – that heroin is sent from Thailand to the Philippines and then to Saipan. That must be close to 3,000 miles. And then from here to the United States, it’s what, another 5,000 miles?”

  “Why such interest?”

  “My company has very wealthy and influential clients who frequently vacation in Thailand. They love Phuket, of course, and even Bangkok — so I try to keep up with what’s happening there. They expect me to be informed.”

  “I seriously doubt your clients would ever encounter drug smugglers while visiting Thailand. People who deal in massive quantities of drugs don’t advertise. They don’t attract attention to themselves.”

  “I suppose that’s so in Thailand. I’d just like to make sure that kind of activity doesn’t mar my clients’ travel experience should they visit Saipan. My bosses would be horrified. So for me, it’s a legitimate concern, no different than any I’d have about putting them up at hotels in certain neighborhoods of New York City or Los Angeles. My company no longer sends clients to Colombia because of the cartels, or to Rio, which was once a fantastic destination and is now crime-ridden and environmentally polluted.”

  “If you are here long enough to gain a better sense of the island, I think you’ll find the smugglers keep to themselves. They’re mostly professional deliverymen, making schedules for shipments by plane or boat. It’s all very dull in some respects.”

  “Well, I’m relieved to hear that. Do you know who they are?”

  Before he could answer, Krill appeared in the archway leading to the balcony. She was holding a stemmed glass of red wine. Tanaka glared disapprovingly at Krill and the wine glass. He was insulted and angry she had not only served herself but had gone on to sip before them.

  Krill smiled sheepishly, shrugged her thin shoulders and bowed slightly. “Your dinner is ready and will be served in the dining room, if that is your wish.”

  Tanaka growled approval. He grunted at Hannah as though saying follow me and marched toward the dining room. The room was stark except for a dark wood table with four straight-backed wood chairs. The bare walls were painted light blue, a color enhanced by the turquoise sea. A 3-D bamboo sculpture that resembled a cage was the sole artwork, perched in a far corner.

  Reb again radioed Carrington. “She’s gone inside the house.”

  Hannah stopped and pretended to admire the table setting. “How lovely. And Krill was so quick. Will she be joining us?”

  Tanaka furrowed his eyebrows as though he did not expect such a nonsensical question to come from the seemingly intelligent Hannah. “She is a servant.”

  Hannah cleared her throat. “I see.”

  “Perhaps you are not accustomed to having servants, but in this house, I am the master.”

  “My apologies. I should have known that.” And then, after pausing for several long seconds, she added, “Master.”

  Tanaka didn’t seem to know how to respond, so he simply said nothing.

  Krill appeared, cradling a bottle of French red wine. “May I open and pour?”

  “Hai.”

  “I’ve already had two beers and a bit of bubbly.”

  “You must at least try this Chateau Margaux. I assure you it is very special.”

  Hannah glanced at Krill. “Is this what you were drinking in the kitchen?”

  “I’m afraid not. Just the house red.”

  “Well, I’d offer you a taste, but it seems you’re a servant.”

  Tanaka flushed, but Krill kept a straight face. Hannah knew at that moment she’d made an ally. Krill uncorked the wine, expertly poured two glasses and bowed. “Your humble servant.”

  Tanaka offered a toast to friendship and adventure. He grinned mischievously and launched into a short explanation of Japan’s tradition of eating fugu.

  The pufferfish that had been breathing moments earlier succumbed when Krill sliced it open on the kitchen counter with her favorite carbon-steel filet knife and delicately transformed the meat into sashimi. The paper-thin slices were arranged artistically on a plate in a circle that resembled a chrysanthemum – which Hannah found a bit eerie given that the flower symbolizes death in Japanese culture. The raw slices rested upon a bed of edible flowers and sprouts.

  Tanaka snatched a slice with his chopsticks and deftly stuffed it into his mouth. “Nothing to worry about. Please eat.”

  Hannah hesitantly tonged a slice of the deadly delicacy and brought it to her lips. Tanaka watched her closely. Krill stood near the kitchen doorway but when Hannah looked her way she slipped out of view.

  Hannah let the slice lay on her tongue and waited for the anticipated numbness. “I probably won’t be able to speak after I swallow this, which means you – Orochi – will have to do all the talking.”

  Tanaka smiled, hoping the fugu would numb her just enough to accept his advances. He tried not to think about the botched surgery in Tokyo. “You’ve barely touched your wine, and it’s such a wonderful vintage.”

  Hannah batted her eyelashes. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

  “I would never do such a thing. It would not be honorable.”

  “Now why don’t I believe that?”

  “You are a beautiful woman. I would be crazy not to enjoy spending the day with someone like you whose veins are coursing with fine wine.”

  “Well, I’m from Buenos Aires and we can hold our liquor.”

  Tanaka chuckled. He admired her spirit.

  Hannah acted as though the wine was slightly taking effect. “So tell me, Mr. Yakuza, are you really just a simple international businessman, or are you a smuggler? It all sounds so exciting to me. It’s like going to a Pacific island and meeting a pirate. Orochi, are you a pirate?”

  Tanaka was flattered by the idea that this beautiful woman might imagine him as a swashbuckling pirate or modern-day samurai and decided to play along with her vision.

  “If I proved to you I was truly a pirate, as you say, would you treat me differently? Would I appear differently in your eyes?”

  As Tanaka voiced those words he reached under the table and caressed Hannah’s knees. “I’ve always read that pirates were irresistible, especially to refined women.”

  Hannah stopped his hand from probing along her thighs. She felt a chill when her fingers touched his shortened pinky finger.

  Tanaka stared into her eyes. “It was an act of apology.”

  “No need to explain. Just something I hadn’t run into before. In Buenos Aires, if we’ve offended someone, we simply say lo siento and let bygones be bygones.”

  “That’s very charming, but it doesn’t always work in the business world where profit or reputation is at stake. Lo siento would only go so far. Something more might be demanded. Yubitsume, for example.”

  Tanaka held his hand with the severed finger close to Hannah’s face. “In this case, something more was demanded.”

  “And what did you do that caused the need for apology? Perhaps you can’t say.”

  Tanaka sifted through his memories. “I was young and inexperienced, but eager to please. I made a mistake while trying to do what I thought was the correct move. In the process, I embarrassed the oyabun who had taken me under his wing when I first joined the yakuza. It was no different than a son dishonoring his father. Yakuza live by the bushido, the warriors’ code of honor. It has always been this way. Honor and loyalty are most important.”

  Hannah feigned shock at such social standards. “What in the world did you do to offend him?”

  “I took photographs of him at the beach, photographs of his beautiful tattoos.”

  “Why would that offend him?”

  “The photographs fell into the hands of law enforcement officers who matched the tattoos to those described by witnesses to a robbery and fatal shooting that had occurred in Thailand many years before. The police arrested him and though he was not convicted, the trouble he experienced was caused by my camera.”

  “So he or
dered you to cut off your pinky finger?”

  “Absolutely not! It was my decision. It was my way to ask for forgiveness.”

  “And did he forgive you?”

  Tanaka laughed, recalling how the ceremony had gone awry. “It did not go well. I laid out a clean white cloth, tied a loose tourniquet and used my sharpest blade. I cut into the finger and sliced, back and forth, until blood was spurting across the table.”

  Hannah pressed her hands over her lips as though queasy. “Oh, my.”

  “I wrapped the bloody finger in the white cloth but it continued to bleed and I began to feel weak. A friend brought me to the hospital where a doctor stitched my finger.”

  “Did your boss hear about your hospital visit?”

  “If he had not, I would not be here talking to you today. His forgiveness gave me a start toward gaining power.”

  Hannah put on her most flirtatious glance. “So now you are the pirate who controls an empire of hotels and casinos.”

  Tanaka blushed. “Not an empire, I’m afraid. At least not yet.”

  39

  A Chat Before Dinner

  Saipan

  Northern Mariana Islands

  April 1990

  As Tanaka and Hannah chatted over dinner, Krill served the grilled grouper with its heavy sprinkling of ground black rhino horn. Tanaka smiled knowingly, assured the secret ingredient would swell his manhood. Krill topped off their wine glasses and disappeared into the kitchen. When she was certain Tanaka was enraptured by Hannah’s presence, she quietly approached the two bodyguards who were sitting in hardback chairs just outside the basement room where Hiraku was captive. She held out a tray with fugu and small bowls of soy and wasabi sauce and a bottle of sake with two glasses. The bodyguards kept their hands on their Uzi machine pistols and traded glances as they eyed Krill suspiciously. Krill plucked a slice from the tray with her fingers and swallowed it. The men eased their stance and curtly bowed as they accepted the tray but declined the sake.