by Nick Hurst
‘That’s highly irregular,’ he said, sitting straight-backed behind his desk.
‘Yes it is,’ cajoled the caretaker. ‘But you know me. When do I come around making strange requests? Please, as a favour. She’s such a nice girl. We’ve got to make sure nothing’s wrong.’
When he realised the caretaker wasn’t going to take no for an answer, the agent grudgingly agreed to help. Even then the release of tension was short-lived – the caretaker wasn’t the fastest on his feet and pigeon-stepping in time with him ratcheted my anxiety back up.
We finally reached Tomoe’s building. But the wait for the lift was painfully long and I fought to contain myself on the way up to her floor. Then we arrived at her apartment. I was suddenly less sure it was where I wanted to be.
The agent opened the door and took a sharp intake of breath.
‘What the heck?’
I weaved behind him trying to look around his shoulders and into the flat. But having teased with his initial response he now tortured me further, taking an age to slip off his shoes, tutting and exclaiming as he did.
Finally he moved inside and I saw what had shocked him. It looked like the Tasmanian Devil had raged through in a vortex-spinning fit. Side-tables were overturned, lamps smashed, even the TV, firmly mounted on the wall last time I saw it, was hanging off on its wires.
Moving from the living room, I looked in at her bedroom and then picked my way through the dining room into the kitchen. Furniture and belongings lay smashed and scattered throughout the apartment. But Tomoe was nowhere to be seen.
It didn’t make sense. When I left her she’d been a butterfly with crumpled wings. It would have taken someone possessed to have done this kind of damage to their own flat.
Then I realised I hadn’t checked it all. The bathroom. The door had been closed when I walked past. I retraced my steps, slowing as I neared the door until it felt like I was fighting through viscous air. I managed to force my hand to the handle, but when it reached the cold metal it stopped. Only when the weight of my arm did what my brain couldn’t command did the handle start to inch down. After a pause at the bottom I pushed.
My bathroom was a pokey thing referred to as a ‘unit bathroom’ in small Japanese flats – estate agents’ lingo for inadequate and ridiculously cramped. Tomoe’s was much bigger and equipped with mod-cons like underfloor heating and an element behind the mirror to stop it steaming up.
It was the place of inspiration for her ever-changing hairstyles and I loved watching as she swooshed the sumptuous folds this way and that. She’d sometimes ask my preference and I’d glow inside, as though I was a co-creator of the work of art the length of white ribbon completed, a kind of ikebana for hair.
I felt entirely different now.
The door swung back against the wall. The room was empty – if you discounted the soaps, shampoos and potions strewn all over the floor. I felt like a valve had been opened and the terror holding me taut expelled.
I became aware of the others again. The caretaker was staring at me intently, having followed the direction of my thoughts before returning with me from their horrific trail. Released from the morbid curiosity that had held him, the agent returned to the complaints that had been an annoying buzz when I was lost in my death trance.
‘… then the marks on the walls – they’re going to have to be filled and re-papered, and that’s saying nothing about the floor. Those are deep scratches, they’re going to have to be worked on and that sort of thing doesn’t come cheap—’
‘SHUT THE FUCK UP!’
It was a break from decorum, the polite verbal code that gets you further in Japan than losing your cool. In fairness, this time it proved effective.
‘I don’t give a flying fuck about the marks on the floor or anything else. You worry about what the place looks like at the end of the tenancy. My girlfriend’s missing and at the moment I’m a lot more concerned about that.’
For some Japanese, even the thought of a gaijin in an explosive, screaming fury holds the same fear our ancestors had of wild and mythical beasts. Faced with the reality the agent went rigid. He tried to speak a couple of times but his voice box was less willing than his silently stuttering mouth.
The caretaker stepped in.
‘You must be incredibly busy,’ he said in a soothing voice. ‘Why don’t you head back to the office and let me help Ray-san clear up. I can drop the keys back when we’re done.’
Released from the spell the agent nodded sharply and bolted for the door.
The caretaker turned back to me.
‘You thought she was dead?’
‘Yes.’
‘But now you think someone’s taken Tomoe-chan?’
‘Yes – there’s no way she would have done this herself.’
I turned to him, surprised he was familiar enough to refer to her in the affectionate form of ‘san’.
‘She’s been very good to me,’ he explained. ‘She helped me when my family had some problems. She’s like another daughter to me.’
Tomoe had that about her. Those who didn’t want or couldn’t have her as a lover saw her as a surrogate daughter or sister, or the dearest of friends. Everyone wanted to be close.
‘Why would anyone want to abduct her?’ he asked
‘It’s complicated.’
‘You’re a foreigner here, let me help. I know people and I know how things work.’
I thought about it. I had no idea what to do and it would at least be a start.
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘It’s beyond me. The whole thing’s crazy. I think we need the police.’
‘So let’s get the police.’ He pulled an old feature phone from his pocket and punched in some numbers. ‘I know the guys at the local kōban police box.’
He turned to talk into the phone and I zoned out, only picking up on the conversation as it neared the end.
‘Yes, but— OK, we’ll come to you.’
He hung up.
‘Useless. Manual ningen,’ he said, using a phrase for people only able to do things by the book. ‘My generation weren’t like that. He says he’s on his own today so he can’t come to help us as he might be needed to help somebody there. The irony’s lost on him.’ His eyes crinkled into an encouraging smile. ‘Never mind. We’ll go to him.’
We left the building and headed into a typical maze of neighbourhood side streets, their quiet calm so incongruous with the hustle of Tokyo’s main roads. Too narrow for pavements and reluctant to allow cars to squeeze through, they left our escort to a murder of raven-sized crows, the city’s thuggish alternative to pigeons. We arrived at the kōban to find its resident policeman pottering around, consumed by Tokyo’s lack of crime.
‘So your girlfriend’s gone missing?’
‘That’s right,’ I replied. ‘She’s been taken. And her apartment’s been smashed up.’
‘OK, let’s take things from the top. When was the last time you saw her?’
‘About a week ago.’
‘And what was her mood like then?’
‘She was a bit upset – we’d had an argument. But it’s not—’
‘Please, let me ask the questions and try to answer clearly. We have a lot of experience in these matters. When you proceed in a tried and tested manner you’d be surprised at how effective it can be.’
I bit my tongue.
‘So, you last saw her a week ago when she was upset at an argument you’d had. Have you had any contact with her since?’
‘No. Her phone hasn’t been on, but it’s not—’
‘OK, so she hasn’t been taking your calls since the argument,’ he scribbled in his notebook as he spoke.
‘No, it’s not like that. She’s been abducted – her phone’s not on.’
‘What is it that makes you think she’s been abducted?’ he asked, looking up. ‘Surely it’s more likely she got in a bit of a strop, stormed off somewhere and will make her way back when she’s calmed down?’
�
��If you’d managed to get yourself all the way to her apartment—’
The caretaker nudged me and I began again.
‘If you saw her apartment you’d understand. It’s been totally destroyed. There was clearly a struggle.’
‘It’s true,’ the caretaker chipped in. ‘It’s in a terrible state.’
‘Well, you know what a woman scorned can be like. You should see my wife. Plates go flying like Frisbees; anything not nailed down is liable to get swiped. The number of times I wish she’d gone missing …’
His mind wandered to the unfortunate women who had to endure him.
‘So what does her work say?’
‘Her what?’
‘Her work,’ he repeated. ‘You’ve checked in with them?’
I bit my lip in frustration.
‘Just a minute.’
I stepped outside the small police box and dialled her ‘office’. The receptionist answered and after some unpleasant pleasantries we got to the point.
‘I haven’t been able to get through to Tomoe for the last week. You’ve not had any contact with her have you?’
‘I’m sorry, no, not for the last week,’ she replied.
I gave the policeman a knowing look from just outside the doorway. She interrupted it.
‘She had to go to a small island in Okinawa quite suddenly. I know from previous experience getting a mobile signal and even the internet is virtually impossible there.’
That threw me.
‘You sent her there for work?’ I asked, inwardly cursing as I saw the policeman make the face to the caretaker I’d been about to make to him. ‘You’ve got no reason to think she isn’t there?’
‘Well, no,’ she said, sounding surprised. ‘Chōshi-san’s extremely dependable so I don’t check in on her everywhere she goes. But I’m sure if she hadn’t turned up the organisers would have communicated it to me one way or another. She’s very important to their success. Is there a problem?’
‘No. Well, yes. No.’ I tried to gather my wits. ‘I hadn’t heard from her. I was worried.’
‘I’m certain you have absolutely no need,’ she cooed, her voice riling rather than soothing me. ‘I’ll be sure to get her to call you as soon as we speak. But it may be a while yet – there was quite a lot to do.’
I may have been new to the investigations industry but none of this sounded very likely.
‘Could I have the name of the organisation?’ I asked. ‘You know, just to put my mind at rest.’
‘I’m so sorry, Ray-san,’ she said, sounding entirely unapologetic. ‘I’m afraid our clients work with us under strict conditions of confidentiality. But I’ll follow up and try to get confirmation of her arrival so you don’t have to fret.’
I ended the call and turned back to the policeman.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, accepting my unoffered apology. ‘We love them, we hate them and we get ourselves worked up when they flounce out. I’ve seen it hundreds of times, experienced it a few too. If we investigated all of them we’d have half the female population on missing persons’ lists. But you see, follow the process and it comes out all right.’
I had an urge to punch him in the mouth but instead I thanked him through gritted teeth and waited for the caretaker to say his goodbyes.
‘You don’t believe it, do you?’ he asked as we made our way off.
I didn’t. And it was then it struck me why – aside from the unreturned calls, the smashed up flat and the receptionist’s deceit. The bathroom flashed in front of my eyes. All of her stuff was in it – her make-up, her cleansers, her contact lenses and glasses. It doesn’t matter how much of a hurry you’re in – and let’s face it, there can’t be many emergency art exhibitions – you take the essentials.
‘No. She’s been taken. Without a doubt.’
ELEVEN
I’d done the right thing. The police are there to investigate and solve crime and I’d given them their lead. But I’d been shooed away. So now I tried to think of what the best of the wrong things would be.
I had to assume the police would eventually take Tomoe’s disappearance seriously – someone can only leave all their worldly goods and take off on a lovers’ tiff/work event for so long. But with the line her company was taking this was likely to be weeks away. And the thought of what could happen to her in that time made my stomach turn. She’d hurt me but that wasn’t the kind of hurt I wanted her to feel back.
But I was no detective and I was struggling even for bad ideas. I decided to work my way back from the end. It seemed certain the yakuza lay there, and they had to be left to the police. I tried to think of who could have led Tomoe to them. Well-connected clients perhaps, but I had no idea who they were. The only way I could think of finding out was through her company, but they’d already shut the door on me and seemed to be in on whatever this was.
Which meant the only logical option was the police, except I’d exhausted that possibility as well. It was hopeless.
Unless …
‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘If he was killed by them it probably means he was mixed up in their business. And if your girlfriend has been taken, it means by looking into it she got caught up too. So if I was to speak to them, all of a sudden I’d be in the middle of things. You seem a nice enough guy but that’s not a favour – that’s a suicide pact.’
He went silent for a moment, as though belatedly assessing the implications of associating with gangsters.
‘You see, even if I’m the one who does your bidding, you’ll be a part of it too. And you don’t want to be a part of the yakuza. They’re like a big, bad octopus. Dip a toe in the water and they’ll slip and slither their way up your legs and drag the rest of you in too. And once you’re in there’s no way out – try pulling a tentacle away and even if you succeed, you’ll see another seven have taken its place.
‘You want my advice? Stay away from them. And while you’re at it, stay away from me. I’m going to do you a final favour and pretend this conversation didn’t happen. That way I don’t have to report it and put us both in the shit.’
He hung up.
It seemed a safe bet Ernesto wasn’t going to be the answer after all.
I gave up looking for another before I fell asleep that night. My unconscious, however, was more diligent. It worked while I slept and gave me its unwelcome conclusion in the morning.
There was certainly logic to it. If I really did want to track Tomoe down – and despite our recent issues, perhaps even partly because of them, I desperately did – realistically it was the only way left. The challenge lay in my inverse samurai spirit. I found my honour in life and I was very keen to preserve it.
My instincts had always worked in harmony with this outlook, pulling me from trouble rather than thrusting me towards it. That I was now being so dramatically betrayed gave me pause for thought. Unfortunately, that thought came up with nothing else. That was why, despite it being the idea first and most firmly rejected, despite every sinew straining against it, I decided to visit the yakuza.
The beaming smile I was greeted with didn’t disguise the slightly squashed features of a face that had seen its fair share of life. His words came back to me: ‘I know people. I know how things work.’
It was as good a bet as any.
Once we’d said our hellos, the caretaker was concern personified again.
‘Have you heard any news of Tomo-chan?’ he asked, truncating her name in affection.
‘No, nothing. That’s why I’m here. I need to ask a favour.’
‘Anything, I told you. Just tell me what.’
‘Well …’ I started. ‘If I needed to visit a yakuza office, how would I go about finding one?’
This warranted a curious look. I wasn’t sure whether it was because of the involvement of the yakuza, my desire to meet them, or that Tomoe might have contacts in the underworld.
‘Tomo-chan was caught up with the yakuza?’ he asked.
‘No,’ I said. ‘Well, in
the end yes, but only because of her father.’
‘But he passed away. It was suicide wasn’t it?’ he said pointedly.
‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘But Tomoe thought it more of an assisted suicide her father may not have willingly participated in. I think she went missing because she was trying to find out who provided the help.’
‘And now you want to follow the same path?’ he asked. ‘Who’s going to come after you when you go missing? I’m getting a bit old for that kind of thing.’
‘No,’ I said, more firmly than I felt. ‘I’m not going to tread on anyone’s toes, or do anything to make them feel it would be better I wasn’t around. But it’s got to be the yakuza. And if they’ve taken her because she annoyed them, I can explain her probing’s all done. We know it was a misunderstanding. Her dad had been unhappy for a long time – in the end work and family pressure got too much. Tomoe got carried away in her grief but everyone’s come to their senses now.’
‘And you think it will be as easy as that?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said, desperate he shouldn’t undermine the line I’d been pitching to myself. ‘If you want to know the truth, I didn’t want to get involved in the business with her father and I don’t know if I should feel guilty about that or not. But now Tomoe’s gone missing I can’t do nothing. And right now this seems to be the only thing left.’
He looked at me a moment longer and then gave a faint nod.
‘Which yakuza is it?’
‘The Takata-gumi.’
He nodded again, this time in a resigned sort of way.
‘I was a bit wilder in my youth and I ran across them once or twice, although they were known as the Dewaya-gumi then. I think they’ve moved their headquarters to Ginza but back then their main office was in Kabukichō, just around the corner from where the Koma Theater used to be. We could start there.’
