Tokyo Noir: The Complete First Season

by J. Scott Matthews

  He didn’t like this. Not one bit.

  “You wanted to see me?” Yakuta said, appearing in the doorway.

  “Yeah. Where are you on that Ebisu double homicide?”

  “We caught the guy last night. Got my confession this morning. Just typing up the report now. Why?”

  “Good. I’ve got something else for you.”

  “Yeah, it’s always something around here.”

  “This assignment is a little different. I want you to … keep tabs on Detective Kimura.”

  “Isn’t she on the serial killer beat? You want us to help her, or—”

  “No, I want you to keep an eye on her. I have reason to believe she’s playing both sides.”

  “You think she’s crooked? Kimura? The chick that cost the police the softball championship versus the firemen when she told the ref that his call was wrong and our guy was definitely out? You think she’s crooked?”

  “I don’t know,” Nomura said. “She just let go a suspect from her investigation with known criminal ties.”

  “Guy could have been innocent. We don’t have to make them all confess.”

  “True. But I’ve been hearing some troubling things from Kato.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “One of our rising stars. He’s been working under her on this case and reporting to me. Says she’s erratic, emotional, is misusing resources, disappears for long stretches of time without accounting for her whereabouts, gets leads she can’t account for … the list goes on.”

  “I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around this.”

  “Well, truth be told, I’m worried about her too. She may be in too deep with some nasty people. If that’s the case, I want to know about it.”

  “Alright, boss. I’m a company man, I’ll do what I’m told. But if you ask me, that doesn’t sound suspicious. Kinda sounds like detective work. And we’re stretched razor-thin as it is. I hate to think we’re pulling resources away from crime to put it on our own people.”

  Nomura didn’t respond right away; he just sat there thinking.

  “You’re right. Let me make a call. See if we can get some outside help on this one. But I still want one of our own there. I don’t want to outsource everything to Ozaki’s people.”

  Yakuta shrugged. “Sure. Let me know. I’ll show those glorified meter maids how real police handle things.”

  “Now, none of that,” Nomura cautioned. “We need them on our side in this. Don’t go antagonizing them. Just let me know what you find. If she’s been compromised, I need to know.”

  Satoshi was surprised when the officers came for him late at night. He figured it was probably after normal interrogation hours, so he couldn’t imagine this ending well.

  He was even more surprised when they silently issued him his belongings and marched him out the front door. He stood outside for a few moments, watching as the police strolled back inside. Then he started walking. No use waiting around in case they changed their minds. He’d have to send Kimura a thank-you card later. And Vasili too, considering that was probably where the order had come from.

  He opened the door and walked in to see Hisoka sitting at the kitchen table. He went to her, and the two of them embraced.

  “I’m back.”

  Hisoka hugged him. “For how long?”

  “For good.”

  “They released you just like that?”

  “Well … I’m guessing there was some arm-twisting behind the scenes. But I’m not complaining. Considering I’m actually innocent.”

  “This time.”

  “Right.”

  They took a seat at the table, sitting next to one another.

  Hisoka shook her head. “Me and my thing for bad boys. Such an idiot.”

  “Hey, now, the job is the job. Don’t confuse me with what I do.”

  “You’ve been bringing your work home with you more and more lately.”

  “Well …”

  “I knew you were no good. From the minute I saw you in the emergency room.”

  “I remember that.”

  “You showed up with three cracked ribs and a black eye. Told me you fell down the stairs at the library.”

  Hisoka made a sound that was between a sniffle and a laugh. Satoshi smiled at the memory.

  “I didn’t want you to think I was some kind of thug or something.”

  “Even though you are.”

  “Well …”

  They both smiled.

  “Do you remember that night?” Satoshi said.

  Hisoka nodded.

  “I remember how kept coming round ‘just to check on me.’”

  “That’s my job, asshole.”

  Satoshi raised an eyebrow.

  “Okay, maybe I was checking on you more than usual. But you were more interesting than the kid who’d swallowed an action figure and the guy with the broken ankle who kept calling me ‘sugar-tits.’ Although maybe I should have gone with him, he was kinda cute …”

  “Alright, alright. But I do remember talking to you that night. I remember it was the first time in months I’d had a real conversation. Where I could really open up with someone.”

  “Me too. It’s still strange for me to think, but it almost never happened.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That was my last week on the emergency ward, as I recall. If you had shown up a week later, we’d never have met.”

  “And that would have been a tragedy,” Satoshi said with a smile. “I wouldn’t have you. And you would have been deprived of the gift of me.”

  Hisoka couldn’t help but laugh as she shook her head. “What do I even see in you?”

  Satoshi shook his head. He didn’t know either. “I still feel that way, though.”

  “What way?”

  “Like I can open up to you. Be myself in a way I can’t with other people. The only other person that’s even close is …” He trailed off, suddenly ashamed.

  “I know what you mean. And, I feel that way too.”

  “And I know it doesn’t always seem like it, but I’m trying. I’m trying hard, to deserve you. I know I don’t always live up to it. But … but I’m trying.”

  She sighed. “I know.”

  They sat there like that for a long time, just holding one another.

  Chapter Six

  Yoshii. Miyagi. Akiyama. Nagai. Matsuo.

  The five bosses sat in a circle staring at one another.

  Same as it ever was.

  They were in the same private room they always used, at one of Akiyama’s Korean barbecue joints. The room was dark, the only light coming from two powerful bulbs illuminating the table from above. In between them was a circular table with a grill in the center of it. Grilling meat sizzled and hissed over the hot charcoal, while steam and vapors curled up off the grill and disappeared into the flue above.

  Using tongs, Yoshii picked up slabs of thinly sliced beef and laid them out on the grate. When they were done (well done for Akiyama and Nagai, medium for Miyagi, and bloody and still half-raw for Yoshii and Matsuo), he distributed the slices to each person’s plate. Then he laid out a round of bulgogi pork and repeated the process.

  Yoshii. Miyagi. Akiyama. Nagai. Matsuo.

  Yoshii looked around at them each in turn. Miyagi was his right-hand woman. She was the owner of several pink clubs and porn studios, meaning that their interests overlapped. Rather than competing, they had decided long ago to collaborate. It helped that they thought alike on many matters. Miyagi was always immaculately presented, with a calm demeanor that hid a cutthroat mind. Her puckered mouth and dark eyes gave the impression that she was constantly sizing people up and probing for weaknesses. Probably because she was.

  Akiyama owned a number of clubs, bars, and other establishments in the Chiyoda Area. The last of his graying hair had been beaten back to a thin band that ran from right over his ears around the back of his head, save for a single tuft on top of his forehead. Between his balding head, b
ifocal glasses, and penchant for old men’s cardigans, he looked like nothing more than an aging business owner. Nobody would have picked him for one of the largest drug-runners in the city. Neither would they imagine that so much of the protection money collected in his area of operation was really being funneled to him.

  Nagai operated shipping and importing operations in the ports of Chuo Ward. He supplied the others with drugs, construction materials, and lately, women. He also had large reserves of muscle that he would loan out to the others when needed. Nagai had a large, flat face that seemed more boxlike than it was because of his squared-off military buzz cut. His scarred face always wore a scowl that made him look like he was perpetually chewing glass. He constantly looked the part of the gangster, with his penchant for weighty rings and expensive Italian suits that screamed “mob.” He had a blunt manner, which Yoshii figured came from his preference for letting his fists do his talking.

  Matsuo was the only geographical outlier in the group. While the others were clustered around Shinjuku in central Tokyo, the bulk of Matsuo’s construction and heavy industry concerns were out in Chiba. But he and Yoshii had come up together. They’d started on the Path together and risen through the ranks by watching out for one another. He was the closest thing Yoshii had to a real brother. At least now. Yoshii had killed his blood brother years ago.

  This group had formed a tightly knit, interlocking subunit within the larger syndicate. Each of the gears meshed in perfect synchronicity. Raw materials in the form of drugs, construction resources, and women flowed in from Nagai’s port outpost. They were then distributed up among the bosses based on who could best use them. Then money flowed back to Nagai in a self-reinforcing loop.

  Yoshii. Miyagi. Akiyama. Nagai. Matsuo.

  They had been doing this so long they had their own rhythm established. The kind of rhythm that came from many years of learning one another’s patterns. They had even fallen into the habit of speaking in order. The conversation would proceed around the table in turn, starting with Yoshii, as it did now. For the bosses had much to discuss.

  “This business with Vasili has not gone as planned,” Yoshii said as he distributed a round of beef tongue to the others.

  “I was afraid of that. He’s too close to the cops.”

  “He’s always been too friendly with the police. It’s one of the things that makes him such a liability.”

  “I say we put a bullet in him and be done with it.”

  Matsuo shook his head. “You can’t just kill the shacho’s albino bear. He’s her favorite pet. I say we keep up with the killings. If nothing else, the income makes them worth it. And if he happens to get caught in the net, all the better.”

  “Possibly. But it’s also dangerous. I had a visit from the lead detective, who traced the girl back to my club. Plus, Kaza lost a man going after the Toymaker. I say we pull back for a while. Maybe pick off some low-hanging fruit if the opportunity presents itself.”

  “I don’t like this. If they’re starting to trace it back to us, maybe it’s time we took out this detective too. We’ve done it before.”

  “I agree. Kill the lead detective and then go dormant. We need to limit our exposure. And while we’re on the subject of covering our asses, we need to scale back this SK Modeling business.”

  “Agreed on the detective. Get rid of her.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell Kaza and his crew to lay off the killings. Sic them on the detective, then lay low. I’m not so sure about the SK Modeling business. I think we’ve limited our exposure there.”

  “Agreed. Besides—”

  “You’ve limited your exposure! My fingerprints are all over it!” Akiyama interrupted Miyagi, speaking out of turn and creating a breach of protocol. A sense of tension hung in the room from the disrupted flow. “I need not remind you that we are disobeying one of the shacho’s cardinal rules. She’d skin me alive if she found out.”

  “Can it be traced back to you?” Yoshii asked, flipping the meat spitting over the glowing grill.

  “If someone were dedicated enough to dig through shell company after shell company, it might point in my direction. I was careful. But nothing’s certain. And my people tell me that someone’s been snooping around.”

  Yoshii was silent for a moment. “Very well, I can be persuaded to lay off it. Miyagi, what say you?” With that, their normal flow resumed, and the tension in the air melted away.

  “I’m fine keeping it quiet for a while. I don’t want to give it up entirely, though. The Eastern European women are high earners in the hostess clubs, and guys here eat up porn with them in it. Plus, the Gaijin Abuse video series is enormously popular among a certain type.”

  “I’m not saying we give it up entirely. Just cool it. The old woman will be out soon—she said so herself. Maybe you could have Nagai bring more in in shipping containers for the time being.”

  “That only works with East Asian women. Too long of a journey for Eastern Europe.”

  “Speaking of the shacho, who do you think she’s chosen for her successor?” Matsuo asked. The importation of women didn’t concern him in the least.

  “I think I might still have a chance, but it’s a long shot. I’m almost certain she’s going to choose Chobei. Which is why I’ve been trying to get on that fool’s good side.”

  Miyagi scoffed. “What a disgrace that would be. I know I don’t have a shot. The old woman’s never made a secret of her disdain for me. But if it’s Chobei …”

  “If it’s Chobei, he won’t last long,” Akiyama finished the thought for her. “But that doesn’t mean we have to be the ones to pull the trigger. If someone else in the syndicate doesn’t do it for us, the Taira-kai will be sure to see to it.”

  “Yeah, I hear he’s shit the bed down in Kawasaki again. I also heard that Vasili’s been cleaning up his messes. Just another reason to get rid of that fucking guy.”

  “Don’t worry about Vasili,” Matsuo said as he shoveled a strand of stringy meat into his face from his rice bowl. “With the killer business done, I plan to turn up the heat on him in another way. If we can’t cut his head off directly, we’ll bleed him dry from a thousand cuts.”

  “Smart move. My biggest concern right now is Vasili getting the leadership title from Eriko. Matsuo and I put a bug up Chobei’s ass about exacting tribute—or some such bullshit—from the Taira-kai. If he’s not warring openly with them already, he will be soon. Should keep him busy, or get him killed.”

  “Preferably the latter. I can’t see Chobei as shacho—the boy’s far too green. Vasili at least knows what he’s doing. He’d keep things running along smoothly.”

  “Unless he finds out we were behind the killings. Then he’d have all our heads.”

  “I told you it was a dangerous move. Risky.”

  “High risk, high reward,” Matsuo said. “It didn’t work out exactly as planned. But Akiyama got a few more years out of it, as did my man at HM Kensetsu. Plus, we made a killing by selling the others. I say we came out ahead on that deal.”

  “Let’s hope,” Yoshii said. “But if he ever finds out it was us …”

  Yoshii didn’t have to finish that thought.

  They all knew the consequences.

  Chapter Seven

  The next night, Satoshi waited until Hisoka had gone to work before he went to work himself. Once she was out the door, he suited up and got ready to hit the streets again. He was about to head out when he paused at the door, then went back to the bedroom. He had been feeling off all day, and he thought he knew why.

  In their bedroom, Satoshi went to his stash of Dextro and took out a pill. It had been a few days since he had taken any, what with his unexpected lockup. He didn’t like to think of it as withdrawal, because that would imply that he had a problem. So instead he told himself it was just a little something to help him sharpen up. He swallowed a fraction of a pill, not enough to slow-dose on, and then headed out into the streets, his head clearing with each step.

  He di
dn’t really have any good leads. But since anything was preferable to seeing Osammy, he went grasping at straws again. Satoshi started by paying visits to a couple of mutual acquaintances, neither of which really liked Masa or had seen him recently. Visits to a few of their former hangouts proved about as useless.

  It wasn’t until about one or two in the morning that Satoshi found himself in front of VICE, a club he hadn’t been to or thought of in years. He smiled to himself. This was where he’d had his first date with Hisoka.

  He hadn’t meant it to be, of course. He’d wanted to take her somewhere nicer, but fate had intervened. He walked through the gathering fog in the back alley around the corner to a main street lined with shops and restaurants. There he saw the wine bar he had originally taken her to. The memory made him smile.

  He looked in the window of the bistro. It must have closed hours ago tonight, but he saw the lights still on and a young couple in the window. He walked over to see a younger version of himself talking to a younger Hisoka.

  She laughed at one of his jokes, covering her mouth as she did. Probably a dirty joke she didn’t want to admit to liking. He watched them like that for a while, remembering their first time out together. He had been surprised when she’d agreed to go on a date with him.

  He remembered hitting it off with her from the beginning. The easy rapport, how relaxed they were around one another. He remembered thinking how he wanted the night to last forever …

  Just then, Satoshi looked up to see Masa’s ghost walk into the bar, with another girl trailing behind him. He had been so angry at Masa for showing up like that, after telling him where he was taking Hisoka on their date.

  “Hey! Fancy running into you here!” Masa said with a smile.

  “Yeah, funny that,” Satoshi said, looking unamused.

  “I was just out on a date and thought we’d come here, after you recommended it. Oh, this is Sachiko, by the way.”

  Sachiko waved awkwardly at the others. Of course, this was the first time he had seen Sachiko too.