by KJ Charles
“I would like to speak to Sonja, the hostess your men took tonight,” I said.
“I can assure you of her well-being. For the moment.”
“Unfortunately, I’m afraid that it will be necessary to speak to her.”
Another mutter in the background.
“Perhaps you will inform me how you came into possession of my property.” The old man sounded a bit more lively than the brother I’d known, with a dry, scratchy, measured voice that gave little away.
“Please be assured that I had nothing to do with the murder of your brother,” I said. “He was killed by an American: the boyfriend of Kelly Hollister, the American hostess. If you look at the love hotel CCTV, at 5:56 you see a gaijin man go in alone, with a bag.” I described Hearn’s hair. “He comes out at 7:46, still alone, and if you enhance the image, you can see that he has something the shape of a briefcase in his bag. We can send you the enhanced images. He was the murderer. He stole the briefcase. He and Kelly set me up to confuse your people while they escaped. I wasn’t involved. I never have been.”
“Is that so,” said Mitsuyoshi-san. There was a sound behind his voice as of someone giving rapid orders. “And yet you have the bag.”
“You told me to get it. I obeyed your orders. We tracked the American down and took it back. He had no idea what was in it,” I added. “He doesn’t speak Japanese.”
“Is that so. Who is helping you in this matter, Ekudaru-san? The gaijin wrestler who works for my colleagues in Kinki, of course, and who else? Toyoda Yoshikatsu?”
Yoshi clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide, blood draining from his face. Taka inhaled sharply, then glanced at his watch and made a winding-up gesture.
“No.” I did my best to sound confused by the irrelevance. “Toyoda is my friend, but he is not involved and knows nothing of this matter.”
“Is that so. I see. Please call back in ten minutes.”
I’d been about to hang up myself. “Certainly. Please have Sonja there.”
He just put the phone down. I took a gulp of water. My throat felt dry and raw, as though I’d been speaking for hours instead of less than three minutes. Yoshi started to route the call a different way, tapping the keyboard with shaking hands.
“Don’t worry,” Taka told him. “They’re just trying to shake us. Kerry-chan, you’re doing fine.”
“Why won’t they let Sonja speak to us?”
“They’d better,” he said softly.
After a very long ten minutes, we dialled again. They picked up the phone halfway through the first ring.
“Where is this man, this boyfriend?” snapped the old man without preamble. I guessed someone had run the security film.
“Where is Sonja?”
“Ekudaru-san would be wise to answer my question,” he said flatly.
Would I really. “With the greatest respect, Mitsuyoshi-san, I cannot discuss this further until I am assured of Sonja’s safety.”
“You have my assurance. Where is the boyfriend?”
“Mitsuyoshi-san sent two men to Katori Noriko’s flat. They beat her and raped her and put her in a coma. I am very grateful for Mitsuyoshi-san’s honourable word. Now I’d like to speak to Sonja.”
There was a brief, nasty silence. I wondered whether I’d pushed it too far, but then, blessedly, I heard a hesitant voice, slightly distanced, obviously on speakerphone.
“Hello?”
“Sonja.” I saw Taka and Yoshi both sag slightly. “It’s Kerry. Are you okay?” I used Japanese, knowing she’d automatically respond in the same language. I didn’t want her speaking anything else.
“I’m alive. Kerry, I’m really sorry—”
“It’s okay. Did that man Oguya do anything to you?”
“Yes, he damn well did,” she said flatly.
The sour taste in my mouth had nothing to do with amphetamines now. “Mitsuyoshi-san, I regret that Sonja has been hurt. I never wished you harm until your men Oguya and Soseki attacked my friend Katori Noriko. And now I have the disc, which I fully appreciate puts you in a difficult position. I regret all this very much.”
Not as much as Oguya and Soseki were going to, I hoped.
“Errors were made,” said the old man. “For these errors, we apologise. Shitsurei shimashita.”
Errors. I noticed, in a remote sort of way, that Yoshi’s face had gone from grey to red. My throat was thick with rage. I swallowed it back, breathing out hard through my nose Chanko-style in an effort to calm down. It didn’t help.
“Thank you, Mitsuyoshi-san.” I forced the words through lips that felt stiff. “Now, perhaps we can end this unfortunate situation by discussing the return of your property and the release of my friend. Oh, yes, I understand that the briefcase originally contained money. I’m afraid it’s gone.”
“To whom?”
“The American used it to pay some debts, I believe. He owed a lot of money in many places, which was why he attacked your honourable brother. We can return the copies of your agenda and the disc, in exchange for Sonja.” Taka tapped his watch. “Excuse me, I will call back in one minute.”
Yoshi started to route another line through, and spasmed in his chair as we heard the slam of the front door. I scrambled to my feet, and Taka grabbed for the gun he’d taken from Chanko’s collection earlier, and then I heard the familiar deep voice.
“Chanko!” I yelped, and sped out of the room.
“Get back here,” snarled Taka, grabbing my arm. I pulled against him fruitlessly, craning out, and saw Chanko shepherding Minachan upstairs. Her face was white and smeared with dried blood, and she looked ludicrously small, huddled in Chanko’s baseball jacket which drooped down to her knees. But she was here, and alive.
“Thank God,” I said. “Thank God. Are you both okay? Look, we’re on the phone to the yakuza—”
“I’m dialling now,” said Yoshi. “Kechan, come on.”
Minachan tottered in and sank down onto the folded futon. Her tights and blouse were torn, her dirty face and hands were grazed and oozing blood, and she looked utterly miserable. Chanko took up station by the door, frowning slightly as he took in the chaos. His eyes stayed on me.
The old man got straight to the point. “You spoke of an exchange. That is unacceptable. Once my property is returned, we will discuss matters further.”
“Excuse me, but our friend’s safety must be assured.”
“Ekudaru-san, please do not attempt to negotiate with me,” said the old man coldly. “You seem to forget that your friend’s continued good health is at issue.”
I looked at Taka. His teeth were set, but he nodded sharply.
“Please let me explain myself clearly, Mitsuyoshi-san,” I said. “Sonja must be returned to us this morning, unharmed. My only alternative is to go to the police and accuse the men who attacked Katori Noriko, lodge a complaint of kidnapping on Sonja’s behalf, release the disc to the police, and send copies of it to the heads of the Yamaguchi-gumi and Kantō Hatsuka-kai. Please forgive my excessively blunt speech.”
“It would not be conducive to her well-being to do that.” The old man’s voice scraped like a rusty saw. “Not at all conducive.”
Minachan leaned forward, staring at me. I made a throat-cutting gesture, demanding silence.
“I understand,” I said. “So it would surely be best for all parties to keep this matter on a friendly and informal footing. A private matter, resolved without unpleasantness.”
“Please call back in five minutes,” said the old bastard, and hung up on me.
There was an instant babble of voices, the loudest being Minachan’s shriek of “What the hell are you doing?”
“They know we have the password,” I said. “They know we can copy the information. If we don’t get Sonja out of their hands now, they could use her as a hostage indefinitely, as well as interrogating her about what she knows. This is the only way, or the only way we could think of. And it’s a bit late to change our plans now.”
“
So why’d you tell them we have the password?” asked Chanko. “No, don’t tell me. Taka, you put any more of that shit up your nose, there’s going to be trouble.”
“Let’s not panic.” Yoshi sounded like that was exactly what he was doing. “But what if they refuse to exchange her?”
“I go to the police, screw the consequences,” I said. “You and Taka get the info to every journo, honest politician and nasty-natured yakuza in town. Minachan runs like hell.”
“And what about Sonja?” said Minachan shrilly. “What about Noriko?”
“Where’s the phone line, Yoshi?”
“Ready.”
This time, the phone rang for a good thirty seconds before the old man picked up.
“Ekudaru-san has informed us that she has a disc, and the password to the disc. Perhaps she could inform us, how can we be assured that the information on the disc has not been copied?”
I looked at Taka, who nodded.
I licked my dry lips. “It has been copied,” I told the yakuza boss.
“You will repeat that.”
“We have copied the disc. The copy will be kept securely, as a safeguard. We will not use it unless we are given reason. Such as harm to me or my colleagues, or to Katori Noriko and Toyoda Yoshikatsu, or any of my other friends, including the hostesses from the Primrose Path bar.”
“That is unacceptable.”
“Unfortunately, I cannot see a better solution,” I told him. “We have no desire to release this information, and we know that if we did such a thing, the Mitsuyoshi-kai would take action against us. So we will not do it unless our lives or those of our friends are threatened. If we are not harmed, we will not harm you, since it would only bring trouble on ourselves. Consider it a guarantee of good faith.”
“That is unacceptable,” he said again.
“I could have lied about the copy,” I pointed out. “But I have no desire to lie. I want this situation to be ended. It was not of my making, please remember.”
“A number of my men have incurred injuries—”
“Noriko is in a coma.” My voice shook for the first time.
He was silent for a second. “Where is the gaijin wrestler, the traitor?”
“You can’t have him.” I didn’t tiptoe around the negative. “You can’t have any of my people. Do you understand me?”
He huffed down the receiver. “But I must have the amekō.”
“I said no.”
“The murderer, Ekudaru-san. The one who you say is responsible for the death of my brother. Give me his name and address, and we have an agreement.”
I felt a second’s ecstatic relief, followed by a rush of cold realisation. I swallowed. “If you get him, will you let Kelly Hollister go?”
“No. Give me his name and address.”
“I will give you his name when Sonja is released—”
“Now. You still have the disc. I want the name now. Consider it a guarantee of good faith.”
Minachan was watching me, wide-eyed, lips parted. Yoshi was worrying at a thumbnail, eyes troubled. Taka made a “get on with it” gesture. I looked up at Chanko, whose dark gaze was on me, and then turned my head and shut my eyes before I could see what he thought. I knew I’d do what he said, and that wasn’t fair, not fair at all.
“The American’s name is Michael Hearn.” I gave the address, my eyes still closed. “He may have left Tokyo by now, though.”
“Thank you,” said the man who would order his death.
I took a deep breath. “Sonja. Are you still there?”
“Yes.”
“You could release her now,” I said. “We could simply destroy the disc and papers—”
“No.”
I didn’t think so. “In that case, I propose we make the exchange this morning.” I grabbed my scrawled list to check. “Disc, papers and briefcase will be placed in a coin locker in Shinjuku station. Bring Sonja to the Shinjuku JR gates at nine a.m., and please buy her a 320-yen ticket. Have a man waiting at the Oedo, Marunouchi and Shinjuku line gates, too, each with a mobile phone. One of them will be given the locker key and number. He can confirm the goods are in the locker, and once he has, he can call his colleagues to let Sonja go. Please do not follow her or impede her.”
“Shinjuku at nine o’clock?” said the old man incredulously. He was putting it on, of course. It was obvious we’d want somewhere we could get lost in the crowd, and Shinjuku station at nine in the morning on a Friday would be as busy as it got while you could actually move.
“Sonja, are you listening?”
“Yes.”
And so were a couple of English-speakers, I had no doubt. “Round line north,” I said in rapid Dutch. “Sunshine station, west exit.”
“You will speak in Japanese!” Mitsuyoshi-san shouted furiously, but not fast enough.
“Got it,” said Sonja, and then made a muffled noise, as though someone had put a hand over her mouth.
“Ekudaru-san!” snapped the old man. “You will repeat what you said in Japanese!”
“It’s a bit different,” I told him. “Please have her there at nine o’clock. I would regret any unfortunate misunderstandings.”
I hit the button to disconnect and sat back on my heels. Yoshi started setting up another untraceable line. Nobody spoke for a moment.
“So we keep copies of the disc, they free Sonja, nobody hurts anyone.” Chanko’s voice was grim. “You think they’ll keep to that?”
“Not for a minute,” I said.
“Moshi-moshi,” Taka was saying. “Sorry it’s late. Or early, whichever. Is Higuchi-san still up?”
I pushed myself to my feet. Taka would do the next bit and Minachan needed help. “Come on, titch,” I told her. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I didn’t want to look up at Chanko as I headed past, but he put a hand out to halt me. “You look after Minachan,” he agreed. “And then we’re having a talk.”
I hustled her into the bedroom and started digging out a few of my things that might be wearable, and a dry towel. “I’ll run you a bath,” I said. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I think. I’ve never been so scared. I had to hide in the toilet to call you, and they must have been listening, because they came running out after me. Horrible. And my nose hurts. And that pig of a cab driver took all my cash. Three thousand yen for Shibuya to Roppongi, with empty streets.”
“What a rip-off.” I led the way into Taka’s bathroom. It was a fairly typical wet-room, in pink plastic, with a sink outside, a shower, and a short, deep bath, electronically controlled, and with a plastic cover that could be slid over the top of the bath to keep the heat in between users. I hit the buttons on the control panel, setting the fill level a bit lower than Taka’s default, in deference to Minachan’s height.
While the bath ran, I damped some cotton wool with the surgical spirit Chanko had used on me and started dabbing at Minachan’s dried blood, cuts and grazes.
“Ow,” she said. “Thanks for sending Chanko-san.”
“I didn’t. He went by himself.”
“Well, thanks for letting him.”
“Is this hurting?”
“It all hurts. I was really glad to see him. There were these two drunk gaijin, they wouldn’t leave me alone. But they went away pretty quickly when he arrived. He’s very tall.”
“I know.”
“He’s really nice.” Minachan glanced up at me. Her eyes were tired and watery from the pain, but there was a hint of the familiar sparkle there. “Don’t you think? I like him a lot.”
“He hasn’t got any money.”
“Well, I know that,” she said scornfully. Minachan had some kind of sixth sense, not merely for actual wealth, but for whether men would spend it on her: for closet cases trying to compensate or penny-pinching tendencies, unaudited expense accounts or budget-balancing wives. “But I owe him. I thought I could give him, you know, some personal thanks— Ouch!”
“I’ll pass on your thanks for you,”
I snapped. “Don’t trouble yourself.”
“Ha! I knew it.” She smirked at me, but it was a parody of her normal zest. “Sonja owes me two thousand yen.”
I wasn’t going to ask what the bet had been. “Your bath’s nearly ready. Don’t drown or anything.”
“Thanks. Comb your hair.”
Outside the wet-room, I checked my appearance in the mirror and winced. Hugely distended pupils, sallow skin, dreadful bed hair, eyes ringed with sleep and exhaustion and old makeup. I gave my face a rapid wash, finger-combed, took a fortifying breath and headed upstairs.
From the study door, Chanko saw me coming and pointed a finger firmly down again to the LDK.
“I want to get dressed,” I complained as he shut the door behind us.
“I go away for one hour,” he said. “One goddamn hour, and you’ve not only let Taka talk you into one of his goddamn schemes, you’ve let him shove yā bā up his nose first. What the hell were you thinking?”
“Oguya had already started on Sonja. We had to do something—”
“This?”
“Look, I didn’t want to give Hearn up either!” I shouted. “We tried to find a number for him, we emailed, but what the hell were we supposed to do? Leave Sonja with them till we warned him, when it’s all his fault in the first place?”
Chanko had tried to interrupt me a couple of times as I yelled. Now he held up both hands, palms out, commanding silence.
“Screw Hearn. Okay? That was always going to happen. If he hasn’t had the sense to go to the police or leave the country, he’s dead, and seeing as he murdered an old guy, even a shitty old guy, I don’t propose to lose sleep over it. Which I would have told you, if you’d asked.”
“Oh. I assumed— Why are you shouting at me, then?”
“Because of this mess. Jesus wept, Butterfly, you promised me you’d be careful. Now you’ve told the Mitsuyoshi-kai you’re in a position to screw them, and you’re handing them a link to Higuchi—go on, what else?”
“Everything we can think of. We’re going to get Sonja back and frame up the bastards and send out the information.”
Chanko started to say something, then passed a hand over his face. We stared at each other in silence for a few minutes.
