by Graham Marks
He’d been psyching himself up so much that it was only when he was just about to start running like hell, possibly yelling at the top of his voice, that he realised the person was not only standing with his back to the alley, not looking down it at all, he was also much nearer to the street than he’d realised. And, as the man turned to look to his right, Adam could now see he was quite an old guy.
He feeling of panic subsided, replaced by one of embarrassment as he walked past the man and out on to the pavement; how stupid would he have felt, tearing past this total stranger like a madman? Total dickhead stupid.
Accompanied by an odd sense of anticlimax, Adam made his way back to the big junction and the subway station. He looked at his watch: a quarter to midnight. He didn’t know when the trains stopped running, but he’d better not risk missing the last one by hanging round this place much longer; tomorrow he’d come back again and do it properly this time.
As he was about to go down to the trains he saw the tout standing across the street where he’d left him, still trying to attract the punters. Adam stopped and stared at him, long enough for the man to pick up, the weird way you can do sometimes, that he was being observed. He looked straight across the road at Adam, smiled a yard of teeth and waved. Adam shook his head and went down the stairway, back to his box.
16
Unwept, unhonoured and unsung
You weren’t supposed to park in a teacher’s space, but it was raining and, quite frankly, thought Tony Grey as he killed the engine, so what. He was trying to hold it all together, but when something like this happened, and nothing in the life you’d led so far gave you any kind of experience to know what you should do or how you should act, it was hard. It was like the first day of your first job, that feeling that whatever you did was bound to be wrong.
He knew Sarah understood how he was feeling, but he didn’t know about Adam. Over the last week there’d been a look in his son’s eyes sometimes that made him feel weirdly guilty that he wasn’t doing enough. Inside he was like a tightly wound spring, waiting to be released, and Adam was old enough, surely, to understand he was jammed solid by the desperate state of affairs with Angie and Eddy. God, whoever wanted to grow old …
As he walked round to where he could see students starting to exit the campus site where Adam’s sixth form college was, Tony scanned the faces for one he might be familiar with from the old junior school days when Adam still had birthday parties and he knew just about all his friends. Hard as he tried, though, no one rang any kind of bell.
‘Hi … Mr Grey?’
Tony looked round and saw a boy, about Adam’s age, smiling at him. ‘Hello … do I … do I know you?’
‘I’m Andy, Andy Cornwell … I was at Hillside with Adam?’
‘Oh yeah, right. I’m sorry, didn’t recognise you.’ Tony shook his head. ‘It’s been a few years, you’ve all kind of morphed.’
‘You’re not looking for Adam, are you? Not, you know, here?’ Andy looked somehow uneasy.
‘I do know he’s been suspended, he didn’t forget to tell us, but I am looking for Adam. The police want to interview him again, as soon as possible, and he hasn’t been home since yesterday. We think he’s with his girlfriend – Suzy, is it?’ Tony thought he saw the boy almost nod. ‘Look, Andy, I know Adam would go ballistic if he thought I’d been up here asking questions about his private life, but it is so private we have no way of getting in touch with him, no idea where he is. Have you seen him?’
‘Not since the weekend, actually. Texted him yesterday, but not had a reply.’
‘Is Suzy – that is her name, isn’t it?’ Still no response. ‘Is she here? Could you point her out to me? I really do need to talk to him.’
‘Is Charlie going to be OK?’
The question took Tony completely by surprise, coming right out of the left field. ‘I, uh … I think so. I hope so. I don’t really know, Andy. I don’t know anything, really, nothing at all.’ He stopped and breathed in slowly, tamping down the fire inside that made him want to shake this boy and force him to say what he wanted to know. ‘Are you going to help me?’
Tony had tried to keep the edge out of his voice, but he knew he hadn’t succeeded; he watched Andy move back slightly.
‘Help you?’
‘You’re not ratting anyone out, just helping. Adam isn’t in trouble, he’s just been in touch with Charlie more than we have, that’s all the police want to check on. Maybe there’s something she’s said that might help find her.’
‘OK, look,’ Andy glanced round, almost furtively, ‘Suzy wasn’t in this afternoon. I think she had a revision period.’
‘Where does she live?’
‘Are you, like gonna go round there?’
‘I just want to talk to her, Andy. Like I said, no one’s in trouble here.’ Tony started to tense up again. ‘Look, you can give me the address, or I can go to the office and get them to tell me. Either way, I am going to find out where she lives. So why not make my difficult life just a tiny bit easier, Andy? Can you do that?’
Andy found he that he could provide the address, and that he could also give up Suzy’s mobile number and surname as well. Tony felt bad about having played the heavy, but he’d also had it with playing games; he was sure Andy would understand, maybe later, when one of his own kids had disappeared when he or she was halfway round the world.
Sitting in the car, a few yards down from Suzy’s house and on the other side of the road, he thought about what to do: phone first or just go and knock on the door? Tony pulled the handle and nudged the door open. Right now the direct approach seemed like the best way forward.
Crossing the road he went up the path and stood in front of the house, reached to his right and pushed the bell. Somewhere inside, behind the decorative leaded-glass panels, he heard it ringing. Then nothing. Then, faintly, footsteps and through the glass he could just make out the silhouette of a figure coming down the stairs towards him. It looked like a man and Tony found himself wondering, as the door opened, why he’d taken a day off work.
‘Mr Barrett?’
The tall, casually dressed man, his chin and head covered in a close crop of silver hair, nodded. ‘That’s right, how can I help?’
Tony put out his right hand and they shook. ‘I’m Tony Grey, Adam’s dad.’
‘Ah, so he does have parents.’ Suzy’s father smiled. ‘Nice to meet you at last. I’m Chris … Sorry to hear about your daughter. It must be terrible.’
Tony ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Thanks … look, um, is Adam here?’
‘Here, now? No, don’t think I’ve seen him for a couple of days. Sorry, rude of me keeping you out there on the step, come in.’
Tony looked at his watch. ‘Maybe another time, I have to get back … my wife. Is Suzy in?’
‘No, she went out after we’d had some lunch, said she was doing revision round at a friend’s. Why?’
‘We can’t get hold of Adam and we need to talk to him – to do with Charlie – and I thought he might be here, or Suzy might know where he was.’
‘I’ll call her, hang on a tick while I get the phone …’
Tony watched Suzy’s dad hurry down the hall; he was trapped now, not able to go before he came back. Seconds later he saw him reappear, a cordless phone pressed to one ear, already in conversation; as he got nearer Tony could hear what he was saying.
‘… I don’t exactly know why, they just need to talk to him … I also don’t know how – is it some big secret where you live? Look, Suzy, if you know something … I’m not accusing you of anything – and watch your tone of voice, young lady.’ Suzy’s dad looked up and mouthed ‘sorry’. ‘Right, come home now. No. I mean it, right now, because you do not want me to have to come and get you.’
Tony watched Suzy’s dad jab a finger at the phone and put it down on a table which, much like the dresser in his house, was covered in post.
‘Don’t ask me what that was all about, and I apologise for the
scene, but I know my daughter, and she is hiding something …’
Suzy had taken the longest twenty minutes to get home and now, sitting at the kitchen table, Tony had to admit she did look as guilty as hell, shifty, nervously picking at a loose thread on her denim bag and seemingly unable to look either of them in the eye. Not the best circumstances under which to meet your son’s girlfriend for the first time.
‘So,’ Suzy’s dad put three mugs of freshly brewed coffee on the table and sat down opposite his daughter, ‘where is Adam? His parents are already having to deal with their daughter going missing. They don’t need any more stress right now.’
Suzy spoke to the tablecloth. ‘He said he was going to leave you a note.’
The two fathers exchanged glances and Tony shook his head. ‘Where is he, Suzy?’
‘I promised not to say anything …’ Suzy looked up at her father, chewing her lip. ‘Adam said I wouldn’t be involved.’
‘Well, like it or not, you are, sweetheart.’
Tony could tell the girl’s loyalties were being torn apart and he felt almost sorry for her, but he needed answers. Watching the scene unfold, he was having the greatest difficulty in keeping his mouth shut and letting her father do the talking. But that was the way he’d want it played if the boot was on the other foot and it was Adam in the hot seat.
‘OK, look, maybe I should have told him not to go, but he was desperate to do something about Charlie …’ Suzy put down her bag and reached for one of the coffees, took a sip and looked at Tony. ‘He said he couldn’t stand to watch his mum cry all the time, talking about her – about Charlie – like she was dead, and, you know, wait for other people to do things?’
Tony leant forward. ‘And?’
‘And he, um, he went there … to try and find her …’
Tony, mouth open, looked from Suzy to her father and back again. ‘He did what?’
‘Where did he go, Suzy?’
‘Tokyo, Dad. He went to Tokyo …’
Walking down the street, back towards the capsule hotel, Adam saw a sign for a bar up on the fourth floor of a building; it had beer, it had cocktails and widescreen TV and it also had free Internet access. Adam stopped, remembering he’d promised Suzy that he would send her an email as soon as he’d arrived. Better do it now, rather than wait till tomorrow.
He looked up at the building, another one with signs advertising businesses on every floor – hairdressers, dentists, clubs, restaurants, beauticians – thinking how in London you’d think twice about going to some bound-to-be-scuzzy bar up off the street. He shrugged and started up the stairs, which, he was glad to note, did not smell like a toilet, figuring he’d probably have to buy a beer to get ‘free’ access to the Net. But what the hell, after scaring himself half to death in that back alley in Roppongi he thought he probably deserved a drink.
The place up on the fourth floor was called the Alfa, which apparently stood for All Life Feels Ace. Adam kind of almost knew what they meant. He walked into a small, dimly lit place with a bar running down one side, three computer terminals along the opposite wall, chairs and table in the centre and a tiny stage at the end. The place wasn’t packed out, but it wasn’t empty either, and the mostly suited crowd seemed to be enjoying the efforts of the guy up on the stage with the microphone. The widescreen TV was behind him and the lyrics to the song – bizarrely, ‘Last Train to Clarksville’ by The Monkees – came up as he sang, ‘… and I don’t know if I’m ever coming home’. Which sounded to Adam way too much like the soundtrack to what he was doing.
He walked up to the bar, shaking off the feeling that he was in some weird movie, and waited until he was noticed by one of the barmen.
‘Beer, please.’
‘Biru?’ Adam nodded hopefully. ‘Asahi? Dry?’
‘Sure, whatever …’ Adam hoped he’d understood what the man had said and waited to see what he was getting. Nodding his thanks when a bottle of beer was put on the bar in front of him, he paid, then pointed over his shoulder. ‘Can I use the computer? Internet?’
‘Intanetto? Mochiron!’ The man did a kind of small bow, smiling broadly, and went off to serve another customer.
That’s a yes, then, thought Adam, taking his beer and going over to one of the terminals. He sat down, moved the mouse to wake up the screen and logged on to Yahoo. One of the last things he’d done before leaving had been to check that his Yahoo account was still active. He’d never worked out how to access his home email address when he wasn’t actually at home, had meant to get round to it but somehow’d never found the time. This other account was just a whole lot simpler.
I’m here, he typed, and staying in a capsule. Going to start looking for Charlie tomorrow … He stopped, wondering what else to say – he’d seen so much, but couldn’t begin to describe any of it, and thought maybe that would have to wait. For now all he really had to do was let Suzy know he was OK … I’m fine, will email soon. Love you too. Adam xxx
He typed in Suzy’s email address and sent the message off. He looked at his watch: 12:30. It was Thursday already.
17
Heaven and hermitage
One a.m. was obviously still early in Tokyo as hardly any of the capsules on Adam’s floor were occupied. Loud snoring was coming from down near the door and he’d seen light from a TV flickering behind the drawn blind of another capsule as he’d climbed into his. Adam lay looking at the ceiling, all of an arm’s reach away; tomorrow, absolute first thing, he had to find somewhere else to stay, because another night in this place – clean though it was – and he thought he might find himself suffering from claustrophobia.
If he wanted to get a really early start it would be a good idea to know where he was going when he got up, do the research now rather than simply lie around listening to the tiny night noises and waiting to go to sleep. Adam shuffled down the end of the capsule, raised the blind and climbed back down the two steps. He unlocked his locker, got out the Rough Guide and went back to what he couldn’t help thinking of as ‘his box’. As he was getting back in, a couple of men came stumbling out of the lift, both dressed in charcoal-grey suits, dark ties, white shirts, with thin black leather briefcases and as pissed as bishops. He wondered what kind of condition they’d be in come the morning.
Lying back down, he found the accommodation section in the book, which had recommendations from under ¥3,000 to over ¥40,000. All he needed was something at the cheap end of the spectrum that he could at least stand up in. And a window would be nice. Not essential, but nice. Leafing through the pages, checking the price code (I – affordable, 9 – forget it), and then looking at where the hotels were on his map, he found there wasn’t much choice anywhere and absolutely nothing in or even remotely near Roppongi. He should’ve been so lucky.
He narrowed things down to a hotel up in a place called Minowa, quite far out from the centre, but on one of the subway lines which ran through Roppongi. Adam began to fall asleep, hoping the place would have a vacancy, then remembered he hadn’t set the alarm on his watch for an early start and had to turn the light back on to do it. He was gone the moment his head hit the pillow.
Keith Venner put the phone down and looked around the room for DC Thomson. He had a job for him. ‘Anyone seen Eddy?’
‘Fag break, sarge,’ an unidentified voice coming from behind a computer screen over in the corner informed him.
‘Bugger’s only just had one …’ Venner got up, stretched and was just about to go in search of his assistant when DC Thomson walked back into the room. ‘Thought you were trying to give up the evil weed, Eddy.’
‘It’s not giving me up, sarge.’
‘I had a call while you were out enjoying yourself.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Mr Grey.’
‘Has he heard something?’
‘You could say.’ Venner sat back down at his desk. ‘His son’s gone missing now … guess where?’
‘Well, if you know where he is, he can’t be missing, sarge
.’
‘You’d think.’
‘So,’ Thomson shrugged, ‘where is he?’
‘Tokyo.’
‘Get out!’
‘As I live and breathe. Mr Grey tracked down the mystery girlfriend and apparently the boy took off yesterday.’
‘Whereabouts is he in Tokyo?’
‘That’s what no one knows, but he’s gone to look for his sister because, the girlfriend said, he didn’t think anyone else was doing anything.’
‘Silly sod … how was the dad?’
‘He was angry and apologetic.’ Venner neatened up some papers on his desk. ‘His wife’s a bit distraught, though – you can imagine, it’s both kids now.’
‘What’re we going to do about this, then?’
‘You’re going over to the Greys’ and picking up the kid’s computer. The dad says he’s tried looking for his emails but can’t even turn the thing on. He’s given us permission to have a go, so I want you to pick it up, bring it back and let that techy bloke – wassisname, Simons?’ Thomson nodded. ‘Let him have a go at it. OK?’
‘Now?’ Thomson looked at his watch.
‘Yes, now … think of it as an extended fag break.’ Thomson turned to pick up his jacket. ‘And don’t forget to take the paperwork for the parents to sign …’
‘Sarge?’
‘You’re back … did you give the computer to Simons?’
‘Yeah.’
‘And?’
‘And he can’t open it up either. Says there’s some quite heavy security on it that’s going to take some breaking into.’
‘Thought Simons was supposed to be a bit of a whiz-kid?’
‘He is. He says it looks like the kind of protection hackers use to stop anyone doing to them what they do to other people. He says he can get past it, but it’ll take longer than he expected. D’you think this Adam kid’s a hacker, sarge?’
‘No idea, I’ll call the dad and ask – but don’t hold your breath, they seem to know very little about what their son gets up to.’ Venner picked up the phone. ‘Go back and see how Simons is doing, I’ll come down in a minute …’
