by Ashton, Hugh
“That’s definitely what he said.”
“Wouldn’t have thought it was possible, even in a crowded place like Shinjuku. Seems a little odd to me. Remind me again, why did Kim and his daughter say they identified this mystery corpse as Katsuyama?”
“He simply said something like it was a good idea if everyone believed Katsuyama was dead.”
“A good idea for whom, I wonder?” Barclay leaned back and popped a cashew nut into his mouth as the plane touched down and started to taxi towards the terminal. “This is the life, eh, Ken? And the nice thing for you is that Her Majesty is paying for this, and you’re not even paying British taxes. Mind you, you’re going to have to earn it by talking to Ishihara when we get to Tokyo.”
“Why on earth?”
“Well, he is one of our best friends in Tokyo. We owe him several favours. Added to which, he can pull strings to protect you from the unwelcome attentions of our North Korean friends. And he is in a better position to get something done about a permanent solution to the problem.”
“Permanent meaning what? A quiet mugging in a back alley or something and a splash into the Sumidagawa one dark night?”
Barclay tutted. “Oh dear me, no, Ken. Our Japanese friends are not into that kind of thing at all. Whatever Ishihara comes up with will be much more subtle than that. Which brings me back to those photos that you found in Katsuyama’s pocket. Those are the same photos that you saw in the police station?”
“I never saw them. I just heard that lookout kid describe them.”
“So you did. Just testing. But you did say that they smelled of Big Al’s cigars?”
“I’m sure that was what they smelled like.”
“Filthy things,” remarked Barclay. “Always had to have the extractor fans on full blast for an hour after he came to see me. And definitely a distinctive smell. He must have had them specially imported from Inner Mongolia or somewhere where they added camel dung or a secret ingredient like that for that extra special something.”
“Katsuyama told me that he skipped off to Vietnam immediately he did his stuff at Shinjuku.” Sharpe shuddered. “It gives me the creeps.”
“What does?”
“I was talking to him, thinking he was a normal person, and he turns out to be a bloody psycho. Someone who kills perfect strangers and doesn’t seem to feel any regrets or any remorse.”
“Then be thankful your dealings with Al Kowalski were limited. I never met Katsuyama, but it does sound as though he has some sort of charm to him. Charm was one feature that was conspicuously lacking from Al’s makeup. But returning to your point about Vietnam. It takes time to get a visa and a ticket, even if it’s only a day or so. That implies that the whole thing was premeditated. Including his first meeting with you.”
“He told me he’d been following me for several days – in fact, I think he might have said a week. But it doesn’t take as long as all that to get a visa and a ticket. I did it at a day’s notice when I flew over there to see him in Hanoi. In any case, he probably wouldn’t have needed a visa as a business owner.”
“True.” Barclay conceded the point. “But when would the photos have been given to Katsuyama if the lad he recruited for the burglary had them?”
“If I recall rightly, he’d been shown the photos, and never actually been given them. And who’s to say that they were the same photos, anyway? You can make as many prints as you like. Shouldn’t we be asking why rather than when?”
“That is going to lead us into some very murky waters indeed, don’t you think? You’re right, but I don’t want to trouble my pretty little head about it right now. I think we’re going to need a little more deep background before we start discussing much further.”
Conveniently, the plane pulled up to the jetway as he spoke, and as first-class passengers, Sharpe and Barclay were the first to exit.
-o-
Barclay and Sharpe were met straight off the plane by one of Ishihara’s assistants who had investigated the burglary.
“Kurokawa-san, isn’t it?” asked Sharpe as they shook hands.
“That’s right,” smiled the other. “Come this way.” He led them through a series of doors marked “No Entry – Official Business Only”.
“How on earth did you manage that?” asked Sharpe, amazed. Kurokawa said nothing, but led them outside the terminal building to a waiting car. The driver was Mori, who had eaten peaches and drunk tea at Sharpe’s flat before forgetting his pistol. He grinned at Sharpe as they got into the car.
The car pulled away, and fought its way through the airport maze before joining the expressway to Tokyo. Sharpe dug his phone out of his pocket and turned it on.
“Mind if I make a call to Mieko to tell her where I am?” he asked Kurokawa.
“No problem. Go ahead.”
Sharpe turned on the phone and dialled. “Hello. Yes, it’s me. I’m on my way back from Narita. What? Say that again? He’s not hurt, is he? How’s she? And how’s the baby? Oh. When? Take care of yourselves. I’ve found out some things about him. No, I can’t tell you over the phone. Not a good idea, there’s too much to talk about.” He hung up and turned to Barclay.
“Your bloody friend Jon. Why didn’t you ship him off to Burkina Faso or somewhere when you had the chance to do it?”
“I had no evidence to justify that at all. Anyway, what are you talking about?”
“The guy’s gone completely crackers, that’s what. He came round to my friend Vishal and pulled a knife on him. Threatened to cut his throat or something unless Vishal told him the secret of how to use the Katsuyama gadget.” Barclay held up a warning finger, indicating Kurokawa. “Anyway, Vishal’s not hurt, but he’s not happy about things. Apparently he’s worried that Jon’s going to go after his wife, who’s pregnant, and he doesn’t want that to happen.”
“Can’t blame him for that,” said Barclay. “When did all this take place?”
“Last night, apparently. About eight o’clock.”
“After you’d finished with Katsuyama and after the Koreans had threatened you. Coincidence, do you think? Kurokawa-san, what have you got to say about this? I thought your people were following him around the place to make sure that this sort of thing wasn’t going to happen?” Sharpe must have shown his surprise, because Barclay turned to him. “Yes, I told you that I suspected something odd was going on there. I actually suspected something about his connections with Kim, or rather with Kim’s daughter, but I really didn’t know what or all the sordid little details. So I asked our friends here to help.”
“There aren’t that many of us, Major, you know that. We do our best—” Kurokawa sounded apologetic.
“Which doesn’t seem to be good enough, does it? Let’s find out a little more, shall we?” Barclay pulled out his own mobile phone.
“Who are you calling?” asked Sharpe.
“Embassy. See if Jon’s there.”
“Why not call him directly?”
“Softly, softly, dear boy.” He spoke into the phone briefly. “Called in sick this morning,” he reported as he put the phone back in his pocket. “Something tells me this is going to be a permanent sickness – I would be willing to bet that the embassy will never see Jon again.”
“Why?”
Barclay looked at him. “You told me that he had openly thrown in his lot with Kim’s daughter? And Katsuyama confirmed that? And now he goes around waving knives in people’s faces. He’s going to be in deep enough shit with the powers that be because of the accusations against me, which turned out to be a complete load of crap, and this latest trick isn’t really going to earn him any brownie points, is it now? Unfortunately I don’t have the power to actually fire the little sod, but if I did, he’d be gone in a flash, and I think my views are shared by enough people in Whitehall to justify him doing a runner.”
“So I have the North Koreans after me, and Vishal’s got a crazed British ex-civil servant after him?”
“Correction, Ken lad. Two corrections
. One, you almost certainly have some gangsters after you as well as the afore-mentioned villains. Two, I think that not just you, but all your friends are in equal danger from all these sources. It may well be time for you and your friends to think about leaving Japan, at least on a semi-permanent basis. Kurokawa-san, I think it’s time that you got the police involved at a more serious level. Can you arrange police protection for Ken here and his friends?”
“I think that can be arranged. Remind me of your address and your friends’ home address, and give me your office address as well, please.”
Sharpe did so, and Kurokawa-san in his turn got busy on the phone. “OK, we’ll do that. Do you want your phones to be monitored as well? We can arrange that if you give us permission.”
“I personally think that might be a good idea, but I think it’s best if I talk to the others first about it. Would that be OK?”
“Sure,” replied Kurokawa, and continued speaking into the phone. When he’d finished he addressed Sharpe. “You’re getting a good team. They typically look after visiting dignitaries, but since no-one’s visiting Tokyo right now, they’re free to take care of you and your friends.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
“You’d better call your good lady,” said Barclay, “and ask her to be at the office with your Indian friends in about an hour’s time. I think we should all talk together about this.”
Sharpe sighed. “This is not going to be popular, I can tell you that right now.”
“Cheer up. No-one likes being the bearer of bad tidings, but you’re going to feel a lot better after all the cards have gone down on the table.”
Sharpe called Mieko again, and she agreed to get Vishal and Meema to the office for the meeting.
-o-
The car dropped Sharpe and Barclay at the office.
“I hope you’re coming in, too,” Barclay said to Kurokawa.
“If we’re going to go by protocol, it should really be Ishihara,” replied Kurokawa.
“Stuff protocol. You’re here, he isn’t, so you’re coming along.” Kurokawa followed Sharpe and Barclay up the stairs to where Mieko was waiting.
“Hello, dear.” Mieko offered a decorous cheek to Sharpe for kissing. She looked at Barclay and Kurokawa, trying to decide where she had seen them before.
Sharpe introduced them, and Mieko frowned. “I’m not happy, Ken-chan. This all seems dangerous and silly, being surrounded by policemen and spies. You’re not some kind of super secret agent, you know.”
“My dear girl,” began Barclay, stopping and regrouping as he noticed Mieko bristling. He hurriedly repaired his tactical mistake. “Ms Nishimura, we are well aware that Ken is not James Bond, Superman, Batman or any other of the fictional characters who go around destroying villains. It is for that very reason that we have decided that it would be a good idea for all of you to be looked after and protected by the best professionals available. Kurokawa-san, maybe you can explain what is going to happen?”
Kurokawa started to explain. “In these cases—” he began, but Mieko stopped him.
“You say ‘in these cases’. In which cases? Why are we one of these cases? You’re frightening me.”
“Good,” replied Barclay. “I hope you are frightened, because you should be. Can we wait until your friends get here, and I’ll explain why. Then maybe you’ll be happier listening to Kurokawa-san’s explanation.”
“In the meantime,” said Sharpe. “I’m going to put the kettle on. Coffee, anyone?”
Everyone wanted coffee, and Sharpe left the room. Better that Mieko discovered the joys of Barclay’s company for herself, he reasoned, than him being the introducer.
When he returned with the coffee, Mieko and Barclay seemed to be at least talking to each other. Kurokawa was standing up and examining the computer equipment.
“What sort of business is this?” he asked.
“Ah. Ken owes you all some explanations, as well as us having to fill you in on things. It’s going to be an interesting time, I can tell.”
At that moment, Meema came into the room, followed by Vishal. “I know you,” she said, pointing to Kurokawa. “You came round to our place after the burglary at Mieko’s and Kenneth’s place, didn’t you?” She looked down at Barclay. “But I don’t know you, do I?”
“This is Major Tim Barclay from somewhere in Her Britannic Majesty’s Government,” said Sharpe. “He’ll introduce himself properly later on. Vishal, I left some coffee on the hotplate in the kitchen. Grab a cup for yourself and one for Meema, come in, sit down and listen. This could literally be a matter of life and death.” Vishal raised his eyebrows, but did as he was asked.
Sharpe started by asking Barclay to introduce and explain himself, which he did, with a broad touch of mystery regarding his actual department and responsibilities. “It may sound rather silly and melodramatic, all this hush-hush business, but I must ask you to bear with me. I have to ask you all, of course, to keep this quiet. Kenneth has already signed the British Official Secrets Act, and I will be asking you three to agree to the same terms in the very near future, even though you’re not British citizens. Kurokawa-san and his team know most of what you’re about to hear already, of course.”
“If we don’t agree?” asked Meema.
“Then I don’t see how I can possibly extend any cooperation to any of you.”
“What sort of cooperation?”
“We’ll come to that in a little while. There’s a lot of ground to make up. Vishal? Can I ask you to explain to us all what happened to you last night?”
“It is all sounding rather silly, now that I am telling you in black and white. Like something out of a novel or a bad movie or something,” said Vishal. “I had just gone out to fetch some beer from the convenience store when this man – not Japanese, European – came up to me and asked me if I was being a friend of yours, Kenneth. So I told him that of course that was true, and then he told me that he too was being a friend and that he did not want to see bad things happening to you. Of course, then I asked him what sort of bad things, and he told me that accidents happen sometimes. So I said to him that this is sounding like a threat and who did he think he was to be making such threats towards my friends. And then he pulled out a knife and held it to my face. Now I am not being frightened of such things as knives because I am quite skilled at fighting with kalari payat when I was younger and we learn about how we must deal with these things. I do not think I have lost all my skills in this area, so I was not being as frightened as some people might be. But he told me to tell you, Kenneth-san, that his name was Jon, and you should not be forgetting this, as he needed the money. So this, I am thinking, is the same stupid bastard who called your phone when I was with you the other day.”
Sharpe nodded agreement.
“So I am thinking it is time to walk away from him, and I turn round and start going back to him. And then he threw the knife at me.”
Mieko gasped. “You never told me that, Vishal.”
He shrugged. “It really wasn’t anything that you should be worrying yourself about. The knife hit me, but he has no idea of how to throw a knife properly, so it was only the hilt that was hitting my shoulder. Not even very hard.”
“What did you do then?” asked Sharpe.
“I will tell you. I picked up the knife from the pavement and threw it back at a fence just beside him. And because I have been trained in throwing knives, it stuck in that fence pretty damn’ hard, I am telling you. I left him trying to pull it out without breaking the blade.” He chuckled.
Sharpe was impressed. “Vishal, I had no idea at all that you had these skills. You’re a dangerous man to know.”
“Jon is more dangerous, though,” Barclay added. “And it sounds as though he has completely lost control of himself. He must be mad if he thinks he can go around knifing people on Tokyo streets. If he has the whole of Tomiko’s gang to back him up, this is not good news for anyone he is angry with. I think you ought to know that althou
gh I haven’t worked with him for very long, I have seen him lose his temper a few times, and it is not a pretty sight. I think you could almost say he goes temporarily insane at these times. He’s on a very tight string.”
“Excuse me for interrupting,” said Kurokawa. “What exactly is going on? Why should Jon be interested in this Katsuyama face business enough to get him waving knives in people’s faces? What else is involved?”
“Ah,” said Sharpe. “I’m afraid that we never brought you up to date on all of this, did we?” He explained how the Katsuyama device was much more than face recognition technology, and how it had been capable of making an enormous sum of money in the right hands. Kurokawa said almost nothing as he listened, but he asked one or two questions that showed that he understood exactly what the device did, and what the implications were. When Sharpe described the money that had been made while the markets were stable, his eyes grew wider.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” he asked Barclay, when Sharpe had finished describing the whole business.
“Because Ken here only had the goodness to tell me about it an hour or so ago, on the way back from Seoul,” Barclay replied. “Ken, I think you should tell us all some more about the more recent developments that have affected you personally.”
Sharpe started off with, “Yesterday, I found out some very disturbing things about Katsuyama and Kim, and I was attacked by armed North Korean agents.” Gasps from Mieko and Meema. He went through the talk that he’d had with Katsuyama, and then started to describe how the North Korean agents had held him up in the lift and how he had slammed the door in their faces.
“Oh my God,” from Mieko. “You’re all right? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“I tried to call from the cell in the police station but I couldn’t. And then I thought it was better to let you know directly. I knew that you’d be really worried if I told you before I got back.”
“That trick with the key and the door is also being a pretty smooth piece of work, I think,” said Vishal. “My compliments to you on that.” Sharpe bowed in mock acknowledgement.
