by John Muir
**********
THE SUMO WRESTLER
Pre-trip examination of publicity photos and pre-reading of the history of the palace did not do it justice. The panorama to his front of the distant view of Osaka castle, in a backdrop of clear blue sky, and surrounded by trees gushing with Springs May blossoms of hanami was better than any tourist brochures. Tony Penn was pleased his itinerary included a few days here.
Camera lens zooming in, then out, he took several photos using different trees, even garden flowers, as frames. It had taken him less than ten minutes to walk from the Osakajokoen suburban train station, but in the heat he had already started to work up a sweat. His proudly worn All Black open neck sport shirt with silver fern emblazoned on the pocket was scratching his armpits where the damp had begun. So much for the “no sweat” deodorant he had paid a fortune for.
He had brought a lunch of sandwiches and drinks with him rather than pay huge tourist prices at the castle. Those were in his camera bag. Maybe he would sneak a small late morning snack before moving onto the castle. That would delay hunger pangs in the middle of its exploration
Noticing a wooden bench seat with a view toward the castle he sat and stared to have the sight imprinted on his memory. A loud cheer from a group of people across the path to his left and through a narrow band of scattered trees interrupted his thoughts. It seemed they were watching some sporting function.
Keen on seeing some peculiarly Japanese sport being played, he picked up his bag and made his way through the few trees. Within seconds of taking in the new scene he started laughing, which attracted the attention of the numerous male spectators. Most were in their late teens and early 20’s. The sport they were watching was rugby union, his favourite participating sport in his youth many years ago.
One observant youth spotted the shirt and gave him the thumbs up.
“Or Bracks nuba wan,” he said and repeated his thumbs up again. Several others copied his thumb sign but thought better than attempting communication in English.
Tony just smiled and felt it better to keep his mouth shut too and not show his severe limitation in the Japanese language.
After quickly surveying the playing field he had to consciously prevent his jaw from dropping in surprise. The surface was a combination of mostly sand with some gravel mixed in. Apart from most of the players wearing knee-pads and head-gear, no other protective gear against the dangers of this surface appeared to be worn. Tony wondered how many deep gravel cuts and scratches had to be treated after every game. Nobody would ever have played under these conditions at home.
A quick glance around showed a few older spectators. Then he noticed there were no women or girls present nearby, or at least on this side of the field.
A strong sense that he was being watched came over him. Being an obvious European foreigner in an Asian country did not make that surprising; but more so in his case because had a full and lusty black beard. Among a race where facial hair was rare he knew he was frequently looked at as a strange sight wherever he traveled in Japan.
This sensation though felt different and threatening. He cast a quick glance to his left and caught the suddenly averted eyes of a very solid looking Japanese character. The surreptitious watcher stood out from the other spectators both because of his height and his very solid build. He was an imposing figure among those surrounding him.
Tony watched the game for a few minutes then turned and continued his walk on the car width gravel path. The neatly trimmed edges gave way to bowling green smooth grass. Nobody walked on that area. Signs were embedded in the lawn. He noticed the writing did not have any Japanese characters and was only in English. “Keep off the grass,” it warned. Obviously the local population needed no such instructions.
Though the castle was still some 800-1,000 metres away he had only walked about 200 metres along the path when he sensed he was being followed. He put down his camera bag and quickly looked up while crouching and feigning adjustment to the Velcro straps on his walkers. Yes, he was right. The solidly built man was about 100 metres behind him and riding a bicycle in a very wobbly fashion. The cyclist then stopped, climbed off and made as if to adjust his seat.
Tony’s eyes quickly scanned the wider area for the presence of any police uniforms, just in case there was going to be trouble. There were none that he could see. That was not too critical, there were hundreds of other visitors around within a close area, and probably more the closer he got to the castle. He was sure that Japanese pride and “face” would result in bystanders helping him and not allow a local to attack a foreigner visiting their country. That would be seen as a disgraceful act.
He walked on to the castle; still with the uneasy feeling keeping his senses alert. Soon he was in the shadows of the castle wall and standing next to the broad moat which surrounded it. To his surprise there were at least two dozen people with fishing rods and lines dangling into the moat. He lowered his bag to between his legs and paused and watched the inactivity of the unsuccessful anglers patiently waiting.
From the corner of his eye he saw the cyclist pull up, dismount, lean his bicycle against a solid tree, remove safety clips from around his long trousers and then proceed to use a massive chain and padlock to secure his bicycle to a tree. That seemed to create an anomaly in Tony’s thought pattern. Such a big guy was worried about his bicycle?
He carried on watching the unsuccessful fishermen, some occasionally winding in a line and re-baiting a hook before casting once again into the moat. By this time the solid Japanese had moved to within three metres of his right hand side. He knew it would be no good in continuing avoiding any issues. It was therefore better that he did something now with the several dozen people nearby. He had to confront this mystery man without appearing to be rude or aggressive.
Turning to face the man, who was now looking directly at him, he bowed slightly. The man responded likewise. Tony made an action with his arms as if to appear to be holding a rod and throwing a line into the moat.
“Fishing?” asked Tony.
After a couple of seconds the man responded.
“Hai. Fushung.”
Tony nodded as he looked at the man his mind had now mentally nicknamed as ‘Sumo’. He was a similar age and height to himself, almost 6 foot, and with broad powerful shoulders. Tony thought he might have been a retired sumo wrestler who had rid himself of all the superfluous fat which accompanied that profession. He was certainly not carrying any surplus fat now.
‘So far so good,’ he thought.
Tony turned to the Japanese again, this time miming the actions of someone winding in a line, removing a fish from the hook and eating it.
“Ooh,” said Sumo, screwing up his face. Then he crossed his arms in front of his body.
“Iie.” He motioned as if removing the fish from the hook and throwing it back. “Mazuinode kekkoudesu.”
Tony nodded in acknowledgement again. He was starting to feel more at ease. Sumo did not look like he had any evil intent.
Sumo nodded in response. His facial features were square and open with a healthy mop of typically well groomed, clean and straight black hair. He then rubbed his clean-shaven chin in obvious reference to Tony’s beard.
Tony smiled and rubbed his beard. “Hai,” he said. “Beard.”
Sumo looked at him with narrowed questioning eyes. “Bird?”
Tony smiled. “Beard.”
“Aah. Bird.”
‘Near enough’ thought Tony. “Hai,” he said.
Sumo nodded happily, satisfied that he had got it right.
Tony felt he needed to move on and get into the castle proper. He waited until the Japanese was looking at him, then he pointed at himself and made walking movements with his fingers. Sumo nodded as if he understood. Tony picked up his bag and followed the moat around toward the main castle entrance.
To his surprise the Japanese left his bicycle chained where it was and followed on foot a few metres behind.
Tony di
d not know if either he was being rude not walking with the Japanese, or whether the Japanese was being rude following him. At least now it was a different quandary. The sinister feeling had diminished. But why was this Japanese picking him out from all of the castle visitors?
Outside the entry door, wooden tables with long wooden seats provided an eating area. Nearby stalls provided refreshments. Tony went to the nearest and purchased two plastic cups of chilled coca-cola, handed over the required exorbitant yen price, and offered one to Sumo.
“Arigato,” he nodded.
“Do itashimashti,” replied Tony pleased that he could at last use one of the few phrases he had learned.
“Aah,” responded Sumo and rattled off in Japanese presuming that Tony did understand after all.
Tony laughed, crossed his arms over his chest and said “No, no, no.”
The Japanese looked quite disappointed.
They sat in silence while they slowly finished their drinks.
Tony stood, bowed and said “Sayonara,” then slowly made his way up the steepish incline to a leveled entry area where he used his credit card to purchase the ticket at yet another exorbitant price. He was surprised; the Japanese followed him and also bought a ticket. To Tony, somehow it did not feel presumptuous any longer that the Japanese should follow him.
After a short period on the ground floor Sumo pointed to an elevator. Tony grinned to himself. This would have been very handy when the first main tower of the castle was added and finished in 1585. Nevertheless, he was pleased to have an easier method of transport to the top of the 5 outside levels. A further three levels were below the elevated ground level.
As he entered the packed elevator he noticed three young men in tracksuits had also entered. They looked lean and mean. Tony was sure they had also been at the site of the rugby, then again at the moat. Was he being stupidly paranoid? Surely not. Generally his senses were accurate. With the elevator slowly rising he tried to be unobtrusive in his closer observation of these characters. They did not look the type of people an honest man would associate with. Was this the reason for his earlier feeling of discomfort? Perhaps the fear had been misdirected at Sumo. It was certainly back again and feeling stronger.
When the elevator reached the top he was one of those closest to the exit. One of the young men attempted to push out in front of him. The booming voice of his new Japanese friend halted the youth in mid-step. The youth bowed deeply and stood back allowing Tony to precede him. Tony’s friend had obviously fired some abuse at the youth about courtesy. When Sumo exited the youth bowed to a seemingly impossibly low height. He noticed the other remaining lift patrons did likewise.
Tony felt he must have struck gold. Sumo’s sheer size obviously demanded respect, or at least fear from the smaller Japanese, and he felt much safer than before.
The view of the area from the top floor was spectacular. The city in one area, the elaborate gardens and lawns through which he walked in another, with the broad approach to the western gate covered in elaborately coloured market stalls. The huge sports fields in the distance seemed occupied with ants running around in some organized mayhem and surrounded by neat squares of other spectator ants.
Tony put his bag down on one of the many seats and moved to the window with his camera. Before he could take his first photo Sumo tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to his camera bag.
Tony wondered what he was getting at.
Sumo repeated the action but this time pointing to his eyes and then pointing to the bag. Tony now understood. Sumo wanted him to keep his eyes on the bag to presumably prevent it being stolen. Tony complied and placed the bag between his legs. Sumo nodded with approval.
Before resuming his look at the panorama he looked around and noticed the three Marx brothers only metres away and was pleased he had made his bag more secure. Their close proximity made him feel uncomfortable.
Sumo noticed Tony’s frown and guessed at the cause. Sumo turned quickly in the direction of the Marx Brothers and under his glare they bowed quickly and moved away to the far side of the viewing area.
Tony raised his eyebrows, partly in surprise and partly in relief. He took numerous photos from different areas of the top floor. The Marx brothers always making sure they were as far away as possible from both him and Sumo.
When Tony had finished his photography he moved back to where Sumo had remained standing and watching him.
Two attractive young Japanese women in their early twenties walked past.
“Bepin des,” said Tony.
Sumo burst out laughing and slapped him on the shoulder. “Hai, bepin des.”
The final tension appeared to be broken.
Tony showed the empty ring finger on his left hand and rubbed it where a wedding ring would normally be worn. Then clutching his arms together pretended to be kissing someone.
Again Sumo laughed and crossed his arms. “Iya desu,” he responded; then made as if he was in a boxing match before parting his arms and going further away. Tony interpreted all that as meaning Sumo was divorced. His body and arm movements had been balanced, fluid and smooth.
Tony then held his arms closely as if cradling a baby and made a poor imitation of a baby’s cry.
Sumo ruffled his fingers around his legs as if he was fingering the edge of a dress and then did a delicate little twirl and held up one finger. Then holding his finger in front of his trousers as a mock penis, he held up one finger again; apparently one daughter and one son.
Tony was feeling quite comfortable in this sign language conversation despite the strange looks they were getting from the many Japanese tourists looking at them, many in tourist-guide led groups.
Sumo pointed at him, obviously questioning his status. Tony repeated the punching action for divorced, then twirled and penis indicated for two daughters and one son. They both laughed.
Soon Sumo was leading the way as they made their way down the levels. Tony noticed how coordinated, smoothly balanced and light on his feet Sumo was. Through sign language Tony learned that Sumo’s main passion was watching baseball and that he suffered a bad slice when playing golf. During his youth Sumo had played basketball which he demonstrated with a standing leap for a shot at goal. The height of the spring was greater than Tony knew he could have achieved in his youth. Sumo then pointed out the difference in style between the castle wall slots for firing muskets and for archers.
Much to the disgust of a tourist guide, Sumo demonstrated a mock seppuku where the prince and his mother had gutted themselves rather than be captured. He rolled on the ground simulating pain and death, and with Tony they burst out laughing. It was all far beyond what Tony had been told about the supposed reserved and undemonstrative Japanese psyche.
It was already late in the afternoon as they exited the castle. Sumo looked toward the lowering sun and looked around at the hundreds of tourists shopping at the many stalls on the plaza outside the western gate. He then looked at his watch and quickly looked around at all the shoppers again. He pointed at Tony, made walking movements with his fingers and pointed to all the stalls and highly coloured umbrella stands; then pointing to himself he crossed his arms across his chest and walked his fingers in the opposite direction.
Tony felt a reluctance to leave his new found ‘amigo.’ Both realized the day had to end.
Tony bowed deeply and uttered a heartfelt ‘arigato gasaimas’.
Sumo nodded in the negative and tapped him on the chest.
“Noh. Dank you.” It was Sumo’s first and only attempt at English. When they shook hands Tony felt the vice-like grip of this man of granite. Sumo moved away in the direction they had come from, and toward where he had left his bicycle. Tony pondered for a few seconds whether to follow him then decided to examine the contents of the dozens of market stalls on the wide plaza as suggested by Sumo.
On the rail trip back to his hotel Tony played the days events over in his mind. Even the Marx brothers had seemingly disappeared after their app
earance and confrontation with Sumo on the top viewing level.
He was still smiling to himself when he entered the hotel lobby and approached the desk for his pass key. This had been one of the most enjoyable and amusing days of his life.
After accepting the security card for his room he turned and found his way blocked by two very formally dressed Japanese men in tailored suits.
“Mr. Tony Penn?”
Tony looked them up and down.
“Yes.”
Both held up official looking photo identification cards.
“Inspectors Yano and Yamoto of Tokyo C.I.D.”
Tony looked past them and saw four other policemen in uniform.
He felt his face redden with embarrassment; then began to feel fear at what he had done to deserve this amount of attention.
“May we speak with you in your room please,” said the one who he remembered as Yano. His English was impeccable
“One moment please.”
Tony turned to the receptionist. He was being ultra-cautious.
“Are these guys for real?” he asked.
“Hai,” she nodded. “They arrived about 20 minutes before you and asked if you had returned yet. They have been waiting.”
Tony turned back to the Inspectors. “Yes. Follow me.”
The Inspectors and the four policemen entered the elevator with him and followed him closely to his room. His mind was racing with the possible reasons for their interest in him. There had been nothing unusual over the past few days; he had not even walked on any grass as far as he could remember.
He put his camera bag down and offered them a seat. They remained standing.
“May I go to the toilet first?” asked Tony. “It’s been a long day.”
“Certainry,” answered Yamoto in less perfect English. “But may we jess check your pockets and body first. Please empty the comtents of your pockets onto the table.”
Tony frowned with annoyance. “I suppose so, if you must.”
He emptied the pockets of his shorts of his thin wallet, hankie, pass-key and a few Japanese coins. A uniformed officer then moved forwarded and patted him down soon discovering his under shirt waist money-pouch. He pointed at the bulge and Tony lifted his shirt, undid the clip and put it on the table with the other items. Tony was reluctant to part with it as it contained his passport, credit cards and quite a large sum of large denomination yen notes.
Now the Inspectors frowned at this hidden item.
“Please check it out and give it back to me before I go to the toilet,” said Tony.
Another uniformed officer quickly checked the few items, showing each to his inspector. Both inspectors nodded, and on completion of the search it was returned to him.
“May I pee now?” Tony asked with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
The inspectors nodded. Tony picked up the money belt, clipped the bands together, and put it over his shoulder.
“Can we check your camera bag while you are in the toilet?” asked Yano.
“No,” said Tony. “I don’t want you planting anything in there while I’m gone.”
“You’ve been watching too much TV,” replied Yano.
“No, I’m just being sensible. Hurry up and check it out while I’m here, I’ll hold off for another couple of minutes.”
Two other uniforms gently emptied the contents on the table, checked the side pockets and felt along the lining on the bag. Satisfied there was nothing else hidden, or of interest, they put the bag on the table with the rest of the submitted items.
“May I pee now?”
Both inspectors nodded.
While Tony was relieving himself he realized that this visit was not a simple social call. He guessed he would find out soon enough.
He washed his hands and dawdled over cold-washing his quite sun-burnt face. He was quite annoyed when he emerged from the bathroom to discover a uniformed policeman immediately outside the door. His feelings had gone from being surprised and defensive to being annoyed and imposed upon. He walked past the two still standing inspectors and plonked himself into the comfortable single-seater lounge. He would not ask them a second time to sit; they could remain standing as far as he was concerned. He noticed the policeman that had been waiting outside the toilet now emerging from inside it. He was disappointed he did not take the opportunity to have a smelly bowel movement while he was there, for the policeman to suffer.
“I’m surprised you haven’t asked to search my room.”
“We did before you returned Mr. Penn.”
Tony was gob-smacked, he felt physically violated and felt his anger rising.
“Alright, what the Hell is all this about? asked Tony.
“What were you doing today Mr. Penn?” asked Yano.
Tony knew he had to keep his cool. He took a couple of deep breaths and briefly related the day’s activities but omitting his meeting with Sumo. He picked up the stub showing his entry to the castle and showed that to Yano.
“Check out the photo’s on the camera if you wish.”
Tony then remembered he had taken a couple of photos of Sumo and wondered if they would ask about him.
“We will in due course. Did you meet or talk with anyone while you were there?”
“No. Only other tourists. They were all Japanese as far as I can remember.” ‘Where was all this going?’ Tony wondered.
Yamoto reached inside of his impeccably pressed suit and pulled out some photo’s. He placed one on the table.
“Do you know dis man Mr. Penn?”
Tony realized he did not hide his surprise. It was of Sumo and him at the coca-cola seat. They had caught him out but why were they interested?
“Well, no. I mean not really. I don’t know who he is.”
“Are you sure?”
“Quite sure.”
“But you spent most of your day in this man’s company.”
How did they know that? If these guys were from Tokyo why were they interested in someone in Osaka?
“Yes, but I don’t know who he is, that is I don’t know his name.”
“Did he ask you to do anything for him or give you anything?”
“No. Nothing at all. He doesn’t even speak English and I don’t know any Japanese except a few guide-book phrases.”
“That’s surprising Mr. Penn. Your friend speaks flawless English. Many years ago he spent four years at Cambridge University in England where he played rugby in the front row against Oxford, and taught martial arts in his spare time. He graduated in European history. He is a very clever, very dangerous and tricky man.”
Tony felt he was digging himself into a grave without knowing where or why. He knew he had a puzzled look on his face.
“Is there anything else you haven’t told us Mr. Penn,” asked Yamoto. A quick swap from Yano’s questioning.
Tony quickly told them about the three threatening looking men in track-suits.
“You only saw three. There are five. The two you did not see normally stay further away and are sometimes armed with guns.”
Both Tony’s hands went to his head and he ran his fingers through his hair and scratched his scalp.
“Were they your men? asked Tony.
“No. They were his body-guards from his dojo which he inherited from his father. He now runs the martial arts school as cover for his real activities.”
“What?”
“He is one of Japan’s leading yakuza figures, gang leader or criminals in your language.”
“What did he want with me then?”
“Maybe nothing. That is what we are trying to find out. He sometimes plays little games with us to waste our time. But it is stranger that he should choose you while the yakuza are in the middle of a power struggle with gang warfare.”
“But how did you know I was with him.”
“Ah. You could not see our surveillance but he and his minders could. Our people were following him when you turned up. Are you sure you did not see anyone else following
you?”
“Quite sure, only those three I mentioned.”
Yamoto placed some more photo’s on the table. These had been taken that day and showed him with Sumo drinking coca-cola, some on the top viewing level and Sumo rolling on the ground mimicking seppuku.
“How did you know it was me or where to find me?”
“Immediately you used your credit card we traced through right to where you were staying. Your police from your homeland say you have no criminal record, no known criminal associates and no known military or other training with firearms. Your passport shows no previous visits to Japan.”
“Boy, you are efficient. How’d you get those photos so fast?”
“Modern times Mr. Penn.”
Yano then spread several more coloured photos on the table in front of him. Tony leaned forward and saw a bicycle leaning against a tree and the body of a man lying face down next to it. There were pools of blood by the body and head.
“Hell, a bit gruesome.”
Tony looked at the next photo. The body had been turned over.
“Oh my God, it’s him.”
He sat back in his chair and took a deep breath. The inspectors stood silently watching his reaction.
“What the Hell happened?”
“He was shot five times with a silenced pistol,” replied one of the inspectors. Tony was not aware which one spoke.
“Why?”
“We told you there was a power struggle.”
Tony looked at the photo again and shook his head. The next photo showed three more bodies wearing tracksuits and inside what looked like a small room or large cupboard, but no blood.
“These look like the three who followed us.”
“Yes, his three bodyguards, they were garroted inside the castle and left in the storeroom. They were the second victims.”
The final photo showed three more bodies, again in a small shed type structure. All three were lying in pools of blood.
“Who are they?”
“His other two armed bodyguards and the innocent stall-holder. They were the first victims; also shot and then dumped in the stall which was then closed up.”
“But I nearly followed him back to his bicycle on the way to the station.”
“A fortunate choice perhaps? One of my men did follow you through the market stalls and advised you had no other contacts.”
Tony slumped back into his chair and locked his fingers behind his head. He was conscious he was taking deep breaths. Then it dawned on him.
“Am I in any danger?”
“We hope not, but we cannot guarantee your safety. If you wish to check out now, we will fly you back to Tokyo with us in our helicopter.”
“But why did he pick me?”
“We can only guess that he was playing one of his many games with us, just as he played with you by feigning his lack of English.”
Tony only pondered his dilemma for a few moments.
“I’m no hero. I think I’d rather pack up and go home. What now then?”
“Please pack up and come with us. We will advise the desk. We don’t want to cause you any further distress or problems.”
Tony felt a little sheepish as he looked at both the inspectors. They had been exceptionally polite and his behaviour had bordered on rudeness.
“So, you are leaving now?” said Yano.
“Yes answered Tony
“For your own safety do not mention our talk or these events with anyone,” said Yamoto.
Tony stood and shook the inspectors’ hands, then deliberately went round the four uniformed policemen and did the same.
Yano had picked up the phone and was speaking in Japanese. Tony presumed it was to reception.
Within seconds Tony began packing his few possessions and a few minutes later they left the room.
He stayed quiet in the unmarked police car; and the helicopter ride to Tokyo was too noisy to talk. Flights out were already over-booked and so he would have to fly out the next day.
Other inspectors accompanied him to the police sponsored hotel and escorted him to his sumptuous room. Dropping his bags on the floor, he again slumped into the comfortable easy chair. For some reason the words and song of the old classic that began “What a day this has been, what a rare mood I’m in, it’s almost like being in love,” came flooding into his mind.
He soaked in a deep bath using the hotel supplied bubble bath essence, then phoned for the expensive in-house massage service. He followed that with the most expensive choice on the room-service menu and made a good effort at emptying the refreshments of the bar fridge. Tomorrow’s early check-in and nine-hour flight would make it a long day.
In the two weeks that passed after his return home, the events of his last days in Japan kept replaying in his mind. He needed explanations and closure. Through the local Japanese consulate he was given the telephone number for the Tokyo C.I.D.
After several fruitless and frustrating calls caused by combinations of misunderstandings, wrong extensions and language difficulty he was finally connected to the Senior Inspector of Japan’s C.I.D., Chief Inspector Matsui, who spoke clearer and better English than many of his friends. Tony outlined his adventures in Osaka and the ensuing encounter with Inspectors Yana and Yamamoto.
Matsui listened with seeming deep interest and after getting Tony’s phone number advised he would phone back.
Tony waited impatiently for four hours before Matsui called. He listened intently to Matsui’s voice.
“I have made extensive enquiries both in Tokyo and our Osaka offices. We have no Inspectors with the names you gave me. The hotel bills where you stayed and your return flights were all paid by cash. We have no record of any of the events you have mentioned.”
