But lately he had been preoccupied with other matters. After arriving back at the club following that business at the warehouse, he’d stepped off the elevator at the forty-fourth floor. He’d walked past the rows of velvet curtains where thousands of eager clubbers had lined up to get through earlier in the night. Then he’d walked upstairs through the massive three-story club that featured a main stage, two side stages, and several different bar and lounge rooms, even a restaurant downstairs. All with incredible views of the city outside.
Vasili had walked through the nearly empty club as the bouncers herded the last of the party people towards the door. He’d headed up the stairs and passed the bar and side stage on the third floor to his office. He’d closed the door and fixed himself a night (morning?) cap as he waited for Satoshi.
Now, he looked out at the city below. As he stood there and marveled at the view, he heard the door open and turned to see Satoshi trudge in, followed by Kameko and Jun. Vasili motioned for him to have a seat on a sofa, then sat down in the one opposite it.
“Satoshi! Rough night for you, eh, buddy?”
“Yeah, you could say that—”
“So … what I’m dying to know is … what the fuck happened last night?”
Satoshi told him everything he knew.
“In the cargo itself?”
“Unless it was a suicide bomber. Because nobody else made it out alive.”
“No one?”
“Well, I dragged one of the divers to shore. But he didn’t last long without his legs.”
“Yeah,” Vasili said. “Those are important.”
Satoshi could never tell if he was joking or not. Something about his boss’s dry humor—which was as black as the ice that covered the man’s Russian homeland—didn’t quite translate to the Japanese sense of humor.
“Was there anything flammable in there?” Satoshi asked. “Or anything that could have accidentally exploded under pressure?”
Vasili motioned for Jun to hand him a slip of paper, which he perused.
“Amphetamines, other controlled substances, 17-4 steel powder … no, nothing explosive. Here, you can see invoice for yourself,” Vasili said, sliding the slip of paper over the coffee table to Satoshi.
“You get invoices for these shipments?” Satoshi asked, glancing at the itemized list. “Seems dangerous to leave a paper trail.”
“Naturally, I do not send paper invoices to suppliers. Is all done by encrypted data transmission. No, this is invoice for you.”
“What?”
“So you know how much you owe me.”
“Owe you? I almost get blown up and drowned doing a job that’s not even mine in the first place. And you want to bill me for the lost cargo?” Satoshi was incredulous. Was Vasili fucking with him?
“You were there to provide security, no?” Vasili asked. “Protection, yes? Was that not your job?”
Satoshi didn’t reply.
“Did you do that? Did you protect cargo? Because this morning I get call from you saying, ‘Now is no cargo.’ So I think, no cargo? No problem, Satoshi just pay me!” Vasili said in his most upbeat, jolly Russian bear voice.
“I don’t have that kind of money,” Satoshi said.
“Not to worry!” Vasili said jovially. “Because I’m giving you a whole week to get it. Who says I’m not fair?”
If Satoshi had looked exhausted before, he looked absolutely destroyed now. His skin took on a new paler shade of gray than before. Vasili had him right where he wanted him.
“Of course, if that is difficult … I could be persuaded to take payment another way,” Vasili said, casually dangling the promise of salvation out to him.
Satoshi didn’t say anything; he just kept his tired eyes fixed on Vasili. He didn’t want to take the bait too soon. Because with Vasili, there was bound to be a hook in it. He had worked for the man long enough to know that it couldn’t possibly be that easy. Finally, he sighed and spoke first.
“And what would that be?”
“Masahiro.”
“What?”
“I don’t make you to kill him—I won’t ask that of you—you just need to bring him to me. He and I have much to discuss.”
“About what?”
“You’re a smart guy, Satoshi. Don’t be dumb by asking the wrong questions all of a sudden. Masa’s gone into hiding, but I need to speak to him. You two were friends, partners, for long time. If there is anyone can find him, is you.”
“When you have him …,” Satoshi said, unable to finish the question.
“When I have him, I will deal with him in my own way.”
That didn’t seem to be the answer Satoshi wanted to hear. He looked like he was about to protest when Vasili preempted him.
“Look, we both know Masa. Man is wild dog. Wild dog that should have been put down long time ago.”
“Be that as it may, I’m not sure I’m the one to lead him to slaughter.”
Vasili uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. Satoshi was now sitting slumped forward, supporting his head with his arms propped against his legs. Vasili began speaking more quietly, as if he had a secret.
“Look, you and me, we know what Masa is. Now I am hearing that maybe he is killer leaving dead bodies in my territory. But first, he … well, I’m sure you hear. Smart guy like you probably reads papers.”
“He’s not …,” Satoshi protested weakly.
“Not what?”
“He’s not a monster.”
Vasili didn’t respond verbally to that. He just arched a single eyebrow impossibly high on one side of his forehead.
“Well, he’s not that type of monster.”
Vasili gave Satoshi a long look of disappointment. Then he clapped his hands together.
“Very well! Is decided. You shall pay me the”—here he speared the invoice on the coffee table with a finger and swiveled it towards him—“one hundred and thirty-five million yen you owe me. Let’s say one week, yes?”
Satoshi looked like he had been extinguished, but he nodded and somehow managed to get to his feet.
“Don’t forget to take this.” Vasili handed him his invoice along with another slip of paper he removed from a pocket. “And take this to fat man at other storehouse. Is requisition for six crates of stainless steel powder. I want you to deliver that to Toymaker. You know how to find him?”
Satoshi just nodded as he swayed unsteadily on his feet.
“And if you change your mind about doing your civic duty and bringing this killer to heel, feel free to take whatever hardware you need for task. On the house, of course.”
Satoshi just nodded again, then bowed deeply. “Your generosity astounds me.”
Vasili had to respect the guy. He had just looped a noose around his neck and pulled it tight, but if it bothered Satoshi, he hid it well.
“Is what I’m known for. Speaking of which …”
Vasili walked back behind his desk to the wall, where he used a thumbprint to open a wall-mounted safe. He extracted a bottle of pills and a small vial of white powder.
“For you,” he said, holding up the powder. “And for your mother,” he added, indicating the pill bottle. “Make them last. There is chance that both of these are going to be scarce for a time. At least until next shipment. But don’t worry, I don’t make you guard next one. Seeing as how you are shit at it.”
Satoshi looked at the drugs he had been handed, then back up at Vasili. He looked like he was about to cry.
“Thank you,” he finally managed in a weak voice.
Vasili nodded and patted him on the shoulder.
“Jun, would you?” Vasili asked his assistant. Jun nodded, and Kameko tossed him the keys to the van from where she sat.
When the two of them had gone, Kameko walked over and plopped down on the sofa that Satoshi had recently vacated. She looked at her boss for a long while without saying anything.
“What?” Vasili finally said.
“It’s just that,” Kameko began, choo
sing her words carefully, “Satoshi has always been a good soldier, and loyal. I don’t know how I feel about you doing him like this.”
Vasili looked out the window and sighed.
“Is not something I want to do, but something I have to do.” He shook his head. “If what Masa knows gets out, this city will drown in blood.”
Chapter Nine
The next day, Mei arrived early and was met by Endo and Kentaro. Endo’s face wasn’t the first thing she wanted to see in the morning, but he insisted on escorting her to her new detail.
Mei’s years on the force had disabused her of the impressions instilled in her as a child by years of watching cop movies and TV shows, with their images of advanced police equipment and high-tech command centers. But even in comparison with her more modest, realistic understanding of the context in which police work was done, the task force “headquarters” was a total shithole.
Her first clue should have been taking the elevator to the basement, then walking through the equipment room to a back door she hadn’t even known existed. This led them into a dimly lit room with a sloped concrete floor and cinder block walls. It was illuminated only by a few incandescent bulbs hung in the middle of the room, and a window that allowed a small amount of light through. The ceiling consisted entirely of piping and ducts that were leaking, judging from the thin trickles of water crisscrossing the floor. There was a large table in the center of the room under one of the lights, an evidence board off to one side, and a few desks in the darker corners of the room. These held enormous, antiquated computers and had ratty chairs that looked like they had been viciously attacked with knives, judging from their wounds that bled padding.
“Weren’t there any other offices available?” Mei asked.
“No.”
“I thought catching this guy was a priority after he dumped a body on the governor.”
“Yes, and while the governor has made a lot of noise about the case, he forgot to increase our budget to handle it. Besides, real cops don’t need a pretty office to catch criminals, just good police work.”
In this less-than-hospitable environment, she found herself staring at three less-than-hospitable faces.
“Gentlemen,” Endo said with a clap of his hands. “Allow me to introduce you to the new head of the task force: Mei Kimura! You will also be assisted by Detective Kentaro, albeit on a part-time basis.”
Mei nodded at the men. They looked at her impassively.
“Those two,” Endo said, pointing at two younger men huddled together, “are Detectives Kato and Ina.”
If either of them inclined their heads in a bow, it was too subtle for her to pick up on. Ina seemed like one of the surfer boys who hung out in Shibuya, with his bleached hair, dark tan, and lean build. Kato was bigger than the other man, with the build of a rugby player. His dark eyes didn’t betray any hint of warmth, nor did the corner of his mouth that was turned down in a haughty half-sneer.
“And this … stalwart defender of the public good is Detective Watanabe.” Endo said this with mock grandeur as he waved towards an unshaven man wearing a rumpled button-up shirt that was straining against his ample stomach.
“A pleasure,” Watanabe said, standing and bowing with a flourish.
Over his overtaxed dress shirt, Watanabe was wearing a long brown Demron overcoat that seemed to have been clearly styled after the outfit of choice in many of the old-school private eye movies. Mei suspected that his respirator might just have a fedora attached to it.
“Well, then, I’ll leave you to it,” Endo said, turning to leave. “Because the clock is ticking, Detective.”
Mei didn’t respond. When he was gone, she turned to address her new team.
“Hello. I want to start by saying I’m sorry for the loss of your former team leader. I didn’t know Suga personally, but the death of an officer is always a tragedy. So my condolences.”
No response.
“Right, then, let me introduce myself. My name is Mei Kimura, I’ve been a detective with the Homicide Department for two years now.”
Kato’s hand went up. Mei shot him a look. She already knew what the question was going to be.
“To answer your question, yes, my father was Hideaki Kimura. Form your own opinions, but keep them to yourselves. If I hear a single word about it, there will be hell to pay. Understood?”
They nodded.
“As for you all … well, I’m sure we’ll get to know each other along the way.”
The phone rang as she was speaking. Watanabe answered it, grunting several responses into the headset before hanging up. Then he sat there for a few moments, not saying anything.
“What is it?” Mei prompted.
“They found another body.”
“Alright, let’s go.”
“What, all of us?” Kato asked.
“You got something better to do?” Mei said.
He didn’t answer, just grudgingly donned his overcoat and picked up his respirator.
“You sure you want to go?” Watanabe said. “The way this guy has been leaving bodies …”
“I’m not afraid of a little blood, Detective,” Mei said.
“No, of course not,” Watanabe said. “But how about a lot of blood?”
Mei thought that she had a pretty strong stomach. Coming up through the ranks as a beat cop in the Shibuya area, she had seen the grisly aftermath of numerous violent confrontations. This had been followed by her stint as a murder police in one of the largest cities on the planet. She thought she had witnessed every possible perversion and desecration that could possibly be inflicted on the human body.
But she had never seen anything quite like this.
Mei was in an abandoned factory located on a small island in Tokyo Bay called Tsukishima. It was a reclaimed island that had been artificially built. Essentially, dirt was piled or dredged up to the point where it became solid ground that could be built on. It was one of a number of such islands that ringed the inside of the bay.
But recent seismic activity had scared most people away from such artificial islands. It turned out reclaimed land was usually the first to subside and sink when large earthquakes hit. The island had largely been abandoned after a massive sinkhole had opened up on it a few years back, swallowing most of a shopping mall along with most of the shoppers in it.
This had left warehouses, factories, apartment buildings, malls, restaurants, and other structures abandoned to rot. Recently, many of these islands had given rise to shantytowns and settlements of people willing to move into the abandoned buildings. They had only seen a few people wandering around on the condemned island, yet Mei had an overwhelming feeling of being watched by eyes that were just out of sight.
When they arrived at the scene in an abandoned factory, Mei didn’t want to get too close for fear of disturbing the integrity of the crime scene. But the extensive blood splatters leading out from the victim made that especially difficult. The victim was a man, probably late thirties, who had either been eviscerated and then strangled, or more likely strangled and then eviscerated. He was lying in a corner of the factory’s ground floor in a pool of blood that had turned a dark crimson brown from mixing with the dirt and grime on the cement floor. His glassy eyes stared up at the ceiling in a frozen look of surprise. A streak of fresher blood had sprayed against the corrugated metal wall right behind him, the bright crimson splatter providing the only source of color in the area.
“I didn’t know there was that much blood in a human body,” she said. She was trying hard not to vomit as she paced around the crime scene.
“There isn’t,” said a voice from behind her. “Most of it is probably the victim’s, as you’d expect. But if I had to guess, I’d say there’s two or three people’s worth of blood here.”
She turned to see a young man in a white plastic body suit standing behind her. As she did, she also noticed a hole in the ceiling through which she could see parts of the second floor. She made a mental note to check ups
tairs later.
“Mei Kimura,” Mei said, nodding at the man. “I’ve been placed in charge of the investigation following the death of Detective Suga.”
“Pleased to meet you. Sorry for the loss of your fellow officer.”
“I didn’t know the man personally, but I hope to live up to him as a suitable replacement.”
“Shouldn’t be hard,” the man said flatly.
“What did you say your name is again?”
“I didn’t, but it’s Suzuki. I’ve been assigned as the designated medical examiner for this case.”
“So what can you tell me? If there’s so much blood, why aren’t there more bodies?”
“Do you mind if I …?” Watanabe cut in from beside her. He was shifting around uncomfortably and trying not to look at the body. “The sight of blood … it makes me squeamish.”
“Go ahead. Help the others canvass outside. Find witnesses if you can!” Mei called after him as the big man scurried away.
“Well, to your question, I wouldn’t be so sure there aren’t more bodies,” Suzuki said. “It’s possible we’ll find the rest later. For the time being, I’ve taken a few dozen blood samples from different points here. Hopefully a few of them will be uncontaminated enough to pull some DNA and maybe get a match in the database.”
“ID?”
“Well, driver’s license in the victim’s wallet gave his name as Tetsuo Kobayashi. The family has been contacted and will have to positively ID him.”
“What about the body itself? Anything there?”
“I won’t know until I’ve gotten it back to the laboratory and done a full autopsy, but looks consistent with the others. Death by strangulation, most likely a crushed windpipe, followed by the removal of several organs.”
“For what purpose?”
“That’s not really my area of expertise. I can only tell you what was done to the body, not why it was done. But I can say that this doesn’t fit the killer’s MO.”
“How so?”
Tokyo Noir: The Complete First Season Page 6
