Tokyo Noir: The Complete First Season

by J. Scott Matthews

  Satoshi looked at her without saying anything, before dropping his gaze.

  “And if you can’t do that, maybe just admit to yourself that this is what you want. That, in fact, you’re not just a detached observer, but an active participant in this business. That your phony good-guy bullshit is just an act. I know you, know your kind. You’re not a ‘victim of circumstance’ or a ‘guy doing what he has to do to get by,’ or whatever other bullshit you tell yourself. No, you’re a predator, preying on those weaker than you and telling yourself this is the way it has to be.”

  Satoshi didn’t say anything for a while. Then he looked straight at her and spoke.

  “Do you know what it’s like to be fifteen and supporting your entire family? To be the one that tells your kid sister to ignore Mommy’s crying through the walls and do her homework, while you ice a cracked rib with a bag of frozen vegetables? Huh? Let me ask: when you were a teenager, would you have let someone out of a beating if you knew it meant you didn’t get paid and your family would lose their apartment? What would you have done?”

  Mei didn’t answer.

  “This isn’t academic, by the way. Every time I had to make that decision, I dished out the beating. Because if it’s a choice between some deadbeat not paying his debt versus my family out on the street … that’s no choice at all.”

  “There’s always a choice to be made. It’s just not always a good one.”

  “Says the woman who’s never been faced with my choices. Must be nice being able to look down on those who clawed their way out of the sewer, wrinkle your nose, and act offended because our hands are dirty.”

  “Yeah, thanks for the ethics lesson. I’ll be sure to ponder it as I break half a dozen laws to get you out of here.” Mei put her head into her hands and sighed. “Jesus, what have I become?”

  “I don’t know. What were you to begin with?”

  Chapter Four

  “You want me to pay you tribute?” Soseki asked. He was inscrutable behind his shades as he eyed Chobei across from him. “For operating in this geographical region that you have decided to call ‘your turf.’ Is that correct?”

  “That is correct.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “That would be most unwise.”

  “Because?”

  “Because I would take it as a sign of disrespect, and respond accordingly.”

  Soseki grunted a laugh. “You haven’t ‘responded accordingly’ once in our dealings so far. I doubt you’d start now.” He leaned back in his chair, and looked over to his chief lieutenant. The man just smiled back at his boss.

  “You have been allowed to operate in Kanagawa with impunity under my good graces, now—”

  “Excuse me?” Soseki said, anger flaring in his voice. “Allowed to operate under your good graces? I was under the impression that we marched in and set up shop of our own accord. I’m willing to deal with you when it suits our interests. But don’t try to lord it over me like you’re the emperor of this shit-can town.”

  Chobei glared at his rival. “Trust me. You do not want this to erupt into war. I have the full backing of my organization.”

  Soseki chuckled mirthlessly. “Really? Because if there’s war, I’m almost certain that you’ll be one of the casualties. Only real question then will be whether the bullets that struck you came from the front, or the rear.”

  “Just what is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that spoiled little princes who start wars they can’t win shouldn’t count on support from their backers. Not when the professionals have businesses to run and money to make.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about my people if I were you. I’d worry about yours. You don’t have the men to hold your little outpost in Kanagawa.”

  “Not right here, and not right now,” Soseki said. “But we have an organization that stretches south as far as Shizuoka and west as far as Nagoya. If we mobilized, it would be like a tsunami crashing down over this city. And this time, Kanagawa won’t be spared.”

  “You have a great deal of faith in your brothers-in-arms.” Chobei smirked. “Maybe the wave comes, and maybe it doesn’t. But by the time it arrives, it would only wash over your corpses.”

  Soseki smiled. “Oh, I don’t know if I’d agree with that.”

  “You are nothing more than scouts sent to hold an outpost. I have a standing army at the ready.”

  “We’re fighters,” Soseki corrected him. “Guerrilla fighters, should it come down to it.”

  “Do you want it to come to that?”

  “I want to avoid bloodshed. I want to continue making money, rather than corpses. I think we can all agree that peace is in everyone’s best interest.”

  “Pray for peace but prepare for war. That is the motto my men and I live by.”

  It took Tamazaki a moment to remember where he had heard that before. It was from one of the samurai period pieces they were always showing on NHK on Sunday nights. This one was from the one Chobei’s ex-girlfriend was on. The actress he had slapped up a few weeks ago.

  “I’m not so sure your men would agree,” Soseki said with a nod towards Chobei’s contingent behind him.

  Chobei turned around to see them all staring off at various walls or ceilings, seemingly oblivious to the proceedings.

  “In fact, some of them already seem a little worse for wear,” Soseki said, taking a closer look. “Looks like someone’s been beating on them. And one of them cut off his finger. Recently, too, if the bandage is any indication. No doubt it was done to atone for some grave misstep on his part.”

  Soseki’s men barely tried to conceal their smiles. His chief lieutenant chuckled outright.

  “Look, at the risk of looking weak in front of my men, I’ll give this one more try,” Soseki said. He was clearly considering his words carefully. “War is in none of our best interests. It’s not our business and it’s not our product. It’s just a nasty by-product of what we do. So how about we both take our fingers off the trigger and hash this out like men?”

  Chobei seemed to consider this. Tamazaki hoped he was smart enough to grab the lifeline he had been offered. If not, he feared they’d all be dragged down.

  Soseki pressed on. “Come now, it’s what Vasili would do. It’s what your mother would do. This is how business is done in our world.”

  In that moment, the thin wisp of hope that Tamazaki held out for peace crystallized in the air, only to fall and shatter upon the ground.

  “Oh, is it, now? Would you presume to lecture me on this business? You and your men joined the Path. I was born on it. There will be no deal.”

  Soseki looked at his men, then shrugged. “Very well. Have it your way. But let me know if you change your mind. I’m always open to make a deal.”

  “I think that might be difficult now,” Chobei said. “At this point it would be hard for me to overlook your slights.”

  “It wasn’t a slight, but no matter. If you want vengeance or anything, feel free to try and take it. Won’t be easy, though.”

  “You know, it’s often said,” Chobei said, “that revenge is a dish best—”

  “Shoved down your opponent’s throat, then ripped out of their stomach through a hole you cut in them so you can force-feed it to them again until they die,” Soseki said. “I’m familiar with how this works.”

  He stood up and signaled to his men. They turned and marched without another word.

  The next morning, Satoshi was woken up at what felt like six o’clock, fed a hardboiled egg and a bowl of rice, then marched out of his cell. He was bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, and his body ached from the hard futon on the floor of the cell, not to mention yesterday’s beating. He was marched through the building back to the interrogation room he had just left a few hours ago. There, he was shoved into a room with a middle-aged man who seemed vaguely familiar.

  “Is this the fuckstick?” the man bellowed. He got in Satoshi’s face while he was being manacled to the table. “Oh, I am going to
fucking enjoy this, sweetheart! They’re going to have to pour you back into that cell unless you tell me what I want to hear!”

  The guards that had led him in snickered as they closed the door behind them. The man walked over to the door and yelled, “Now tell me what I want to know!” He cracked one hand against the other loudly. Then he turned around and walked back over to the table.

  “Satoshi, right?” he said once he was seated. The edge was gone from his voice.

  “Yeah. You look familiar.”

  “Kentaro. Think I may have seen you around the club before.”

  “Oh yeah. I remember you now.”

  “You hungry? Breakfast here leaves something to be desired.” Without waiting for an answer, he took out a bag of fast food and tossed it to Satoshi.

  “Thanks.”

  “Look, I’ve got a lot of casework to catch up on,” Kentaro said, taking out a laptop. “I’ve got a newspaper somewhere, if you want something to do. We’re gonna have to be in here for a few hours.”

  “Thanks for this.”

  “No problem. Oh, and when they come back, if you could look shaken up—you know, like I really rattled you—I’d appreciate it.”

  “Sure thing,” Satoshi said, rummaging through the fast-food bag.

  Once Kentaro left, Mei returned and took his place. She and Satoshi hashed out a solid alibi that covered all of the murders. They even coordinated with Kameko, as the shift manager of the fictitious Takara Industries, who would vouch for him on many of the nights.

  When Mei left, a detective named Watanabe took her place. He was decent, both at his job and in the sense that he didn’t beat on Satoshi. He grilled Satoshi for the rest of the afternoon, but Satoshi stuck to the script. The guy was tenacious and kept circling back on Satoshi’s story from different angles in an attempt to trip him up. It probably worked on a lot of lesser guys, but Satoshi was an old pro at this. He kept his head and his story straight. Watanabe left with nothing.

  Finally, after a full day of interrogation that lasted at least sixteen hours (by Satoshi’s count), he was led back to the holding cells. He was so exhausted by this point that he didn’t care how uncomfortable the futon was, he just passed right out.

  The next day followed much the same pattern. As he sat across from Kentaro doing paperwork, he had time to sort some things out in his head.

  What hurt the most was not being able to contact Hisoka to tell her he was fine. She must be worried sick about him now. And they had been interrupted right when they were starting to make progress. Damn cops.

  What hurt the most after that was thinking back on the detective’s comments from the night before. It hurt because it rubbed up against ideas that had been coalescing in the back of his mind, but which he hadn’t acknowledged openly. He sighed to himself. Just another reason to get out of this business and go straight.

  Right after he found Masa. Because this latest salvo of his proved that Masa was willing to turn their cold war hot. And neither Satoshi nor his family would be safe with him out there.

  He’d go straight. But right after this next job.

  Which, it occurred to him then, was a thought he’d entertained before.

  Yet here he was.

  Chapter Five

  “Thanks for meeting me here.”

  “No problem, thank you for calling.”

  The girl sitting in front of Mei was pretty. But she had the furtive glance and wary look of someone used to taking abuse. Mei had seen it before.

  Her name (or at least, the one she gave to Mei) was Iveta, and she was from Latvia. She had been working at Kabuki Lounge the night Mei had pulled her stunt there, and she had called later, saying she had information.

  “I just didn’t want to go to the police station. In case they’re watching me.”

  “Is anyone watching you?”

  “I don’t know. They usually keep a close eye on us. But one of the guards lets me out sometimes. If I fuck him.”

  “Guards?”

  “They watch us round the clock. We all live together in a house. They bus us to work, then back when we’re done. Usually we’re not allowed out without a chaperone, but like I said—”

  “I got it. How did you come to Japan?”

  “They told us we could make money. Be a hostess, flirt with Japanese guys, make a few thousand euro in three months on tourist visa. They say they give you free flight, free food and housing. But they lie.”

  “How so?”

  “They charge for everything. Flight, food, house we must to live in. Say we owe them several thousand euro and must to work to pay it off. Hostessing doesn’t pay that much. So they make us have sex for the money. If we don’t, they say their agents in our home countries will collect from our family, tell them we are prostitutes. Or make us pay after we get sent back.”

  “That’s horrible. Why not go to the police with this?”

  Iveta shrugged. “Some girls, they try. Some of them get sent back with fresh bruises. Others I hear get abused by the police, then deported. The police say we are here illegally. Working illegally. So they don’t help us. That’s how these people get away with it. We get punished, not the criminals.”

  “What you’re talking about is human trafficking. I mean, this is monstrous …”

  “Monstrous is what happen to Alyona. She tried to go to police and was returned. Then … then she disappear and they found her like that …”

  “Do you think Yoshii did that to her?”

  “Who?”

  “Yoshii. The owner. The guy I was talking to at Kabuki Lounge.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t see him much. Mostly Koji. He is manager in charge of girls. I can see him doing that.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “He’s violent. Abuses us. But he knows how to do it without leaving bruises. Is bastard.”

  “But you don’t have much contact with Yoshii?”

  She shook her head. “I hear stories from the other girls how he is also bad man. But I never seen anything from him.”

  “Did Alyona?”

  “Maybe. Yoshii liked her. Fucked her sometimes. Alyona hated them, and the things they made her do.”

  “So she tried to get away.”

  Iveta nodded again.

  “I just can’t believe the police aren’t already looking into this.”

  “They don’t ask questions because they don’t want to find the answers.”

  “You’re saying they’re complicit in it?”

  “I don’t know what means ‘complicit.’ But there is saying in my country. ‘Laws catch flies but let hornets go free.’ Is true.”

  “Well, I’ll start checking into it. Maybe I can get them to do something about it.”

  “That’s why I call you. You’re police, but you’re woman. At least you won’t make me to have sex with you.”

  “Others have?”

  “Not me. But some of the other girls. Police fuck them and send them back. Or deport them. Is no justice for us.”

  Mei looked away. She swallowed hard. Now that she knew the pattern was there, she was starting to see it everywhere she looked. How had she missed it before? Maybe it had always been staring her in the face, but she had just chosen not to see.

  “So you can help me?” the girl asked expectantly.

  “I’m going to try.”

  “Does that mean no?”

  Mei started to protest, then stopped. She wasn’t sure.

  “It means I’ll do what I can for you.”

  “Great to see you again, Detective Kimura.”

  “Great to see you too, uh …”

  He sighed. “Sawamura.”

  “Yes, great to see you, Sawamura.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  The prosecutor took a seat and opened his files.

  “Alright, let’s see … Satoshi Ishiyama. Bad-looking dude, judging from his rap sheet. Shall I just jot you down for the full twenty-three-day detention now?”

  “Actually,
I’m recommending release for him.”

  “Really?” Sawamura looked taken aback, then downright suspicious. “Let me get this straight. He’s the only lead in the investigation you have right now. And you want to release him?”

  “He’s got an airtight alibi,” Mei said. I should know, I worked it out myself.

  “In that arson case from a month ago, your suspect had video evidence proving he was across town at the time. But you asked to hold on to him for ten days because you ‘just had a hunch about him.’ Now you want me to just let this guy go?”

  “Yes. Three of us have been over him from every angle, for hours each day. His alibi holds up.”

  “Are you not the same Detective Kimura who had me keep a low-level thug for the full twenty-three days even after you realized he had a different name from your suspect?”

  Mei shifted uncomfortably.

  “What was your reasoning? Something like you wanted to see if he would crack and start trading weight up his organization?”

  “Yeah, well, that was then. This is now.”

  “And what’s the difference?”

  “Now the clock’s ticking before our killer kills again. And the guy in there is the wrong guy. Sure, if I had all the time and resources in the world to sit on him until he trades weight, I would. But I don’t.”

  “And just to confirm, but are you not the same detective, who just two months ago—”

  “Yeah, I’m sure I was. But that was then and this is now. And I don’t have the time to waste chasing empty leads. Cut him loose.”

  Sawamura shrugged. “Alright. Anything else?”

  “Nope,” Mei said on her way out the door.

  Sawamura watched her go. When she was gone, he picked up his phone.

  “Staff Sergeant Nomura? Do you have a minute? Just something I wanted to discuss with you. Yes, I’ll be right up.”

  He went to Nomura’s office to relay his concerns. Nomura heard him out, then thanked him for his time. He sat staring out the window for a while. It wasn’t much of a view, but the fog helped him think. After a while, he dialed someone from the department on the intercom.