The Fine Art of Invisible Detection

by Robert Goddard

  ‘By kidnapping her?’

  ‘Yes. And Nick Miller as well. They’re being held somewhere in London by contract gangsters Nishizaki hired at short notice. He’s in London himself now as well. He’s demanded I meet him to discuss the terms for their release.’

  ‘Will you?’

  ‘Ah. That’s where we come to your role in all this, Wada. You must have been asking yourself why I’ve been willing to tell you so much I’ve kept secret for so long – why I’ve confided in you so completely this morning.’

  ‘I have been asking myself that, yes.’

  ‘The answer is that Nishizaki has agreed to let me send an authorized representative to meet him on my behalf. I’d hardly be safe in his company in the present circumstances, so he must have assumed I’d never agree to meet him face to face, knowing he’ll be surrounded by his personal security staff. The venue is to be Quartizon’s London offices, tomorrow morning at nine. Nishizaki’s lawyers have scoured the terms of the sub-lease and obtained a court order seizing the property. I imagine they’re ransacking the place and burrowing into all available records in search of the missing money even as we speak. I need hardly tell you they won’t find it. As a result, Nishizaki isn’t likely to be in the best of humours, I’m afraid.’

  ‘And you expect me to agree to meet him?’

  ‘It’s actually in your own best interests that you do. Under stress, he tends to lash out in all directions. And he is under stress right now. More so than he’s been in many years. When he finds a spare moment to consider the part you’ve played in bringing him to this pass, he won’t just dismiss you as small fry and move on. That isn’t the way he works. He’ll come after you. And your mother. And your brother. Yes, I’ve done my homework on you. Just as Nishizaki will have done. He’ll spare no one.’

  Wada didn’t want to believe what Driscoll was saying. He might be exaggerating in order to obtain her agreement. But the ugly truth was that she didn’t think he was exaggerating. ‘How can I avert that outcome by meeting him as your representative?’

  ‘It gives you the opportunity – which you shouldn’t squander – to negotiate an amnesty for you and your family as part of the deal I hope to strike with him.’

  ‘And what is the rest of the deal?’

  ‘In return for the safe release of Nick and Dr Morrisette, I will surrender to Nishizaki the retirement package I put in place for myself. He can safely disappear and live well for the rest of his life, albeit not in Japan and not in continuing control of his criminal interests.’

  ‘What about the fraud victims?’

  ‘Well, in his absence, those of us left behind to answer for him … will just have to take our chances.’

  ‘Surely you will become a target.’

  ‘Very probably. But Nick will be safe. So will Dr Morrisette. And so will you, if you play your cards right.’

  ‘Why should Nishizaki agree to speak to me as your agent? He must regard me as someone beneath his notice.’

  ‘Oh, I think he’s noticed you, Wada. In fact, I think he probably regrets not telling Ohara at the outset to kill you if he got the chance. You know too much for his liking. But that means you know enough to close this deal. Frankly, I can’t think of anyone else who has a realistic chance of doing so.’

  ‘You would trust me?’

  A brief silence fell. Driscoll nodded. ‘Yes. I would trust you.’

  ‘Why? You do not know me.’

  ‘I know you well enough. And however badly you think of me, it can hardly come close to how badly you think of Nishizaki. Your enemy’s enemy truly is, in this case, your friend.’

  ‘What if Nishizaki rejects your terms?’

  ‘You’ll simply have to negotiate as best you can.’

  ‘And you will comply with whatever deal I strike?’

  ‘If it spares my son’s life, yes. I have no choice unless I’m to abandon him. And I’ve abandoned too much in my life to add my own child to the list.’

  ‘What would you have said to Nishizaki if Dr Morrisette was his only hostage?’

  Driscoll smiled faintly. ‘I had an escape route ready to offer her after she’d exposed the fraud. She’d have come to no harm.’

  ‘That is not an answer to my question.’

  He looked at her directly. ‘Perhaps the question can’t be answered. We are where we are.’

  ‘You are asking me to take a big risk.’

  ‘Refusing to do this would be the bigger risk for you, Wada. Nishizaki will come for you.’

  ‘And for you.’

  ‘Yes. Which is why we find ourselves unexpectedly needing each other’s help.’

  ‘You’ve made the right decision,’ said Driscoll as they walked away from the cathedral.

  ‘It is too soon to say that.’

  ‘No, it’s not. Whatever happens – even if everything goes disastrously wrong – the alternatives are worse. Believe me. I thought them all through very carefully before coming to see you.’

  Wada had tried to think some of them through herself as they’d talked. Maybe Driscoll was right: they were worse than whatever would come of seeking to prise a compromise out of Nishizaki. Or maybe he was wrong. There was no way to be certain. Wada would have to face the consequences of that uncertainty if she went through with this, as she’d just agreed to do.

  There was another motive driving her on that she wasn’t about to confess to Driscoll. By planting Yozo Sasada in Aum Shinrikyo, Nishizaki was indirectly responsible for Hiko’s death. Wada had only ever seen Sasada in a courtroom. She’d never actually spoken to him. But she could speak to Nishizaki. She could look into his eyes and see what kind of man he was. Driscoll had given her that chance.

  ‘Nishizaki is a careful man, Wada. You’ll be searched when you enter the building. So, just in case you see this meeting as an opportunity to take revenge for your husband’s death …’

  ‘I have said I will try to negotiate with him. That is what I will do.’

  ‘Good. But be warned. He’s quite capable of telling you one thing and intending to do another. He won’t keep to an agreement simply because he’s said he will. If he accepts my terms, you have to insist on the hostages being released at the same time as I deliver to him the means to access my retirement plan.’

  ‘How will you make the delivery?’

  ‘You call me when the deal’s done and I’ll provide the details then: where, when and how.’

  ‘You will not tell me before?’

  ‘The less you know of the arrangements I’m going to put in place the better.’

  ‘In case Nishizaki forces the information out of me shortly before putting a bullet through my head?’

  Driscoll pulled up and she stopped as well.

  ‘You don’t have to do this, Wada-san,’ he said, softly and, she felt, sincerely. ‘I may have exaggerated the risks of refusing to help me. If you run far and fast enough, it’s possible he’ll forget about you.’

  ‘But I would have to live looking always over my shoulder.’

  ‘Maybe you could cope with that.’

  ‘Maybe I do not want such a life.’

  ‘We can’t always have what we want.’

  ‘Do you think Nishizaki believes that?’

  A few moments passed before Driscoll responded. Then he simply shook his head.

  Wada met his gaze decisively. ‘It is time he was made to believe it, I think.’

  ‘I’ll tell him you’ll be there, then.’

  ‘Yes. Tomorrow.’

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-FOUR HOURS TO prepare for the meeting with nishizaki was about twenty-three too many, since Wada was already as prepared as she was ever going to be when Driscoll left her outside the entrance of the Lamb Hotel.

  She read a couple of chapters of The Makioka Sisters on the train down to London that afternoon. More accurately, her eyes scanned the sentences without transmitting to her brain any of the calm the book normally gave her. Her phone logged several ca
lls from Holgate, seeking news, but she didn’t respond. There was nothing she could safely say to him. She was set on a course of action that was both dangerous and somehow inevitable. Beyond all the doubting and wondering, she sensed there was no alternative. This was the way it had to be.

  Driscoll had booked her a room at Claridge’s, where she spent the evening and night in conditions of disorientating luxury. The bath in her room was so big she found herself floating in it, the bed so vast she felt like a child when she laid her head on the enormous pillow.

  Wada suspected she looked more like a maid than one of the guests, who clearly came from worlds very different from hers. Sitting in the Art Deco bar with a cocktail she regretted ordering because it was far too sweet, she tried to concentrate on the bubbling chatter around her as a distraction from why she was there and what she was going to do in the morning. But she remained undistracted.

  To her surprise, she slept well and was woken by the beeping of the alarm on her phone. The day had come, cool and bright, with showers of rain that cast their shadows over the bathroom mirror as she looked at herself and wondered if the person she saw was equal to the task ahead. There was a gauntness to her features she was sure hadn’t been there when she left Tokyo a couple of weeks ago. She wasn’t the same Wada. But maybe, considering what lay ahead, that was a good thing.

  Quartizon’s offices were only a few minutes’ walk from Claridge’s. When she reached Berkeley Square, she called Driscoll, who answered instantly.

  ‘I am about to go in,’ she said simply.

  ‘Very well. I’ll await your report.’

  ‘Are you close by, Driscoll-san?’

  ‘That would be telling.’

  ‘Do you have any last advice?’

  ‘Be yourself. Putting on any kind of act for Nishizaki is a waste of effort. Fortunately, though …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I don’t think you can be anyone but yourself.’

  The offices were at the Berkeley Square end of Bruton Place: a four-storey house converted into stylishly fashioned business premises. The brushed steel plaque by the door, featuring the embossed letter Q, was identical to the one at Quartizon’s Reykjavík address.

  The door opened as she approached. An impassive porter admitted her to a reception area that would have looked sleek and spacious but for the number of people trundling sack-trucks piled with documents away.

  ‘Are you Wada?’ the porter asked. He was Asian, but not, Wada suspected, Japanese. Korean, maybe.

  ‘I am Wada.’

  ‘Passport?’

  She showed it to him. He nodded in satisfaction. ‘I have to search you. I can call a female colleague if you wish.’

  ‘That will not be necessary.’

  He nodded again and picked his way meticulously through the contents of her shoulder bag, which did not include the Emergence memory stick, securely stowed in Claridge’s safe. Then he patted her down, thoroughly but with cool detachment. ‘You can go up,’ he said. ‘Floor two.’

  The lift rose slowly through the building. The doors opened on to a short corridor that led to double dark-wood doors. A large shaven-headed Asian man so wide-shouldered it looked as if he had left the hanger in his jacket was standing in front of them, arms folded across his chest. He inclined his head and whispered into a lapel microphone, then pulled open one of the doors to let her proceed.

  She entered what she took to be Quartizon’s boardroom. There was a large table, glass-topped and steel-legged, with pale leather swivel chairs spaced around it. There was no other furniture. Decoration was confined to a number of maple-framed oil paintings of abstract colour washes.

  There was a second broad-shouldered man standing just inside the door. He glanced round at Wada, then looked towards the figure sitting at the far end of the table.

  Wada had seen Hiroji Nishizaki’s photograph in photocopies of grainy newspaper articles stored by Kodaka in the kage-boshi file. They’d been taken when he was a younger man. She knew the year of his birth – 1945, Showa 20, the year of Japan’s great humbling – and she therefore knew his age. His large, pugnacious face, with bags under the eyes like bruises, a nose that looked as if it had once been broken and sullen teak-brown eyes under a widow’s peak of unnaturally dark hair, somehow suited him better at seventy-four than it had in middle age. He gazed at her expressionlessly, then gave a heavy-lidded nod to the man behind her, who left the room, closing the doors quietly behind him.

  Nishizaki was wearing a pinstripe navy blue double-breasted suit, a crisp white shirt and a scarlet tie. However old he might be, he conveyed an impression of restrained power, of seething energy – or anger – barely held in check. He neither smiled nor scowled. He didn’t get up and he didn’t invite her to sit. She knew she must appear small and insignificant in such a room. But she didn’t feel it.

  She wondered if she should speak first, since Nishizaki showed no sign of saying anything. She decided not to. If silence was a test, she didn’t intend to fail it.

  At last, Nishizaki spoke. ‘Why do you not use your husband’s name?’ he asked, forming the words slowly. ‘It is expected of a widow as of a wife.’

  ‘I am not here to discuss my husband,’ she replied coolly.

  ‘They tell me he took twelve years to die.’

  ‘His killer took twenty-three years. If we are counting.’

  ‘You are not a respectful woman, are you, Wada?’

  ‘Are you a respectful man, Nishizaki-san?’

  ‘Perhaps you can teach me to be.’

  ‘I doubt I can teach you anything.’

  ‘So do I.’

  ‘I am here to—’

  He held up a hand, interrupting her. ‘I know why you are here. Driscoll – or perhaps we should call him Ellery – has chosen you as his … emissary. A strange choice. But he is a strange man. Loyal for more than forty years. Then … disloyal.’

  ‘Will you hear his offer?’

  ‘Is it worth hearing?’

  ‘I believe it is.’

  He nodded. ‘Then speak.’

  ‘In exchange for the release of Dr Morrisette and Mr Miller, he will give you the use of the escape plan he prepared for himself. It will protect you against any victims of the Emergence fraud who come after you and will supply you with a safe and comfortable retirement.’

  ‘He offers me the use of the rat-hole he planned to crawl into. Is that correct?’

  ‘Since you know him well, you will appreciate that he would not have skimped on the arrangements he made for himself.’

  ‘A luxurious rat-hole, then. Located where?’

  ‘I do not know. Details will be supplied when the hostages are released.’

  ‘It will not be in Japan, though, I assume.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘My father died before I was born, fighting to defend the fatherland against the Americans. You wish me to dishonour his memory by fleeing Japan in order to escape my enemies?’

  ‘It is a way out for you, Nishizaki-san.’

  ‘A way out of what? Dr Morrisette’s claims about Emergence have not yet reached any of our clients.’

  ‘But Driscoll-san will ensure they reach them if you do not release her and Mr Miller.’

  ‘Mr Miller. Driscoll’s son. The son he has never met. It is late for him to discover the ties of blood. Perhaps they bind tighter in such cases.’ Nishizaki looked more intently at her than he had so far. ‘You have no children, Wada?’

  ‘I think you know I do not.’

  ‘Because you were married to a twelve years dying husband.’

  He was trying to rile her. He wasn’t going to succeed. ‘What Driscoll-san is offering you is what you need to survive, Nishizaki-san. That is the truth.’

  ‘Is there to be money as well, to sweeten this pill you tell me I must swallow?’

  ‘There can be.’

  ‘And tell me, Wada, do you want anything for yourself?’

  This was the moment to say what she want
ed. But the words wouldn’t come. She sensed he was merely awaiting her demands in order to reject them.

  They looked at each other in silence down the reflective length of the table. It was raining outside now. The light had dulled in the room. Tears of rain streaked the windows.

  ‘How did Ohara and Zayala die?’ he asked suddenly.

  ‘I am not here to speak of them.’

  ‘How did they die – and you survive?’

  ‘Some things cannot be accounted for.’

  ‘But their deaths can be accounted for. By you.’

  Wada considered her answer carefully. But, when it came, it felt instinctive. ‘Chijimatsu. Enatsu. Agatsuma. Hirotsu. Oto—’

  ‘Enough.’ Nishizaki spat out the word.

  ‘You remember them?’ Wada remembered them. They were among the many victims of Nishizaki whose untimely deaths Kodaka had listed in the kage-boshi file.

  ‘I remember everyone who has challenged or defied me.’

  ‘Do you wish to account for their deaths?’

  For the first time, Nishizaki came close to smiling, though in essence it was no more than an ironic twist of the lip. ‘I see now why Driscoll chose you to represent him. He must have advised you to ask me for an assurance that I will not pursue you after this matter is settled. Yet you have not asked. Why?’

  ‘Either you will pursue me. Or you will not. Whatever you say here today.’

  ‘You are a perceptive woman, Wada.’

  ‘Will you accept Driscoll-san’s offer?’

  Nishizaki sat back in his chair, then leant slowly forward again. He rested his elbows on the table and steepled his hands. ‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘I will not.’

  Wada said nothing. A few moments passed in silence.

  ‘I will not be made a fugitive by Driscoll. How could I trust him not to reveal my whereabouts to my enemies? And, even if I did trust him, how could I be certain they would not force the information out of him?’