“I can still hear something, though,” Miura said. “Mostly just static, but I think I can hear crying sometimes too.”
“Unless it’s Vasili admitting to wrongdoing, I don’t want to fucking hear it.”
Mei rubbed her face with her hands, which were propped on her knees. She hobbled over to the side door through the confined space and stepped out into the night, not bothering to pull her respirator into place. She needed to breathe in the outside air for a few minutes and didn’t care what invisible hazards she breathed in with the air. Besides, it was a relatively clear night.
Kentaro followed her out and removed a cigarette from his pack. He inhaled deeply, regarding her for a long moment as he did. He certainly seemed relieved to be out of that van.
“What?”
“Did you really think it was going to be that easy? That he was just going to accidentally let something incriminating slip?”
Mei sighed. “I don’t know … yes? Maybe it was stupid, but I really thought we had a chance to pull some weight.”
“You don’t just go straight for a heavy like Vasili. Guys like him are careful; they know how to insulate themselves. I’m surprised you even got Arekusuandaa to flip. Most of their guys are more loyal than that. You want to topple the syndicate, you’ve got to build a solid case. And that’s going to take time.”
Mei looked at him, then down at the ground.
“You’re smart, and you’re dedicated,” Kentaro said. “But you’re too impulsive and lack patience. You’re never going to win playing checkers against someone who’s playing chess.”
She sighed. “Christ, you sound like my dad.”
Kentaro just looked at her with a faintly disapproving look. Just like her dad.
“But that doesn’t mean you’re wrong. Maybe I need to rethink my strategy.”
“Well, you’ve got time.”
“I just hate the idea that this opportunity was a total waste. All that effort and nothing to show for it.”
Kentaro exhaled another puff of smoke and shook his head. “You can’t think of it that way. At least nothing horrible happened. Sometimes that’s a victory in and of itself.”
“Hey! Guys! I think something is going on!” Miura called from inside the van.
“What is it?” Mei asked.
“Lots of noise now. Definitely crying, and something else I can’t quite place. It’s like a heavy, staticky crackling sound. Not sure what it is.”
Mei looked perplexed. Kentaro suddenly looked concerned. Without saying anything, he turned and walked to the end of the alley and into the empty street. Mei followed close after him, stopping cold in her tracks when the warehouse came into view.
Smoke was beginning to pour from the top of the peaked roof. From the windows stationed around the top of the building, she could see flickers of light, as if something inside was burning. Her head started spinning and she suddenly found it difficult to breathe. She began sprinting towards the burning warehouse.
Sensing that Kentaro wasn’t keeping pace, she turned around to see him hunched forward on his knees vomiting into the street. She faced forward again and ran even faster.
Because just up ahead, her informant, his warehouse, and her future on the police force were going up in smoke.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Okay, let’s go over the game plan one last time,” rasped Director Nomura in his gravelly, cigarette-ravaged voice. “When the senior superintendent comes, what are you going to do?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Mei and Kentaro intoned in unison.
“Hmm, good. Let’s hope this works.”
As the staff sergeant of the Homicide Division, Nomura was their superior ranking officer. He was in his midfifties and practically wore his age on his weathered face. He had his thick gray hair slicked back over his scalp like a protective shield.
To Mei’s way of thinking, he was one of the few good guys in an institution that was being eaten from the inside out by corruption. She had seen him go to the mat for the officers under his command before, and was glad to have him on their side now. But the harried look of concern on his craggy, leathery face as they waited did not bode well for them.
This thought was still swirling in her head when the door to the tiny meeting room crashed open and in strode Senior Superintendent Endo of the Criminal Affairs Bureau, the parent branch that encompassed her department. At just barely five and a half feet and nearly two hundred pounds, Endo looked almost as big around as he was tall. Between that and his immaculate suits, it was almost impossible for Mei to picture the man as having once been a beat cop. The bar-code-style comb-over he sported on his round head didn’t exactly demand respect, even if the man beneath it did—often and loudly.
She had always harbored the suspicion that he was dirty, but she couldn’t say why. Mei could barely stomach the greasy, slimy careerist fuck. But she figured she should make an extra effort to be subservient today, considering that her career (life) as a police officer hung in the balance.
He tossed the file in his hands onto the desk, where it slid across the table to where Mei and Kentaro sat. A glossy black-and-white photo of the charred husk of a man curled into a fetal position slipped out and hit her hand, causing her to look away. Guilt was already eating her over the part she played in his death. Seeing the aftereffects of her carelessness nearly turned her stomach.
“Well? What do you have to say for yourselves?”
Nomura shot them both a pointed glance that said: Stick to the game plan. He stood, turned, and bowed in one smooth motion. Mei and Kentaro followed him in standing and bowing, holding theirs longer.
“I most humbly apologize for my department’s behavior, and I take full—”
Endo cut him off with a dismissive wave of the hand. “Enough. Did you even know about this?”
“I take full responsibility,” Nomura repeated.
Endo took a seat in the chair next to him, and the others sat back down as well.
“I’m guessing this was your doing, wasn’t it?” Endo asked, staring straight at Mei.
Mei glanced at Nomura. Don’t you fucking dare, his eyes said.
She looked at the table. She couldn’t ask him to fall on his sword for her. “Yes sir, it was.”
“I thought so. And for what purpose?”
“I wanted to see if we could put a wire on Vasili Loginovski.”
“Oh, did you now?” Endo asked, incredulously. “And tell me, how did that work out?”
“It did not—”
“It resulted in the death of a suspect in police custody, and the destruction of a site of interest in another ongoing investigation. And what, precisely, did you come away with? Did you capture anything usable against him?”
“No, sir, we did not.”
“No, Ms. Kimura, it would seem that you have taken failure and perfected it to an art form.”
“Vasili must have—”
“What? He must have what?” Endo snarled.
“He must have gotten to the witness somehow. Forced him to set the fire, or … or something.”
“And do you have any proof of this? Any tangible evidence that somehow escaped the fire?”
Mei didn’t have a response. Nomura stared at her silently. So much for his carefully laid strategy for the meeting.
“And you, what do you have to say for yourself in all this?” Endo asked Kentaro.
“I have no excuse for myself,” Kentaro said.
Endo’s eyes darted back and forth between the two of them. His fury seemed to be burning itself out from a raging tempest down to a seething malice.
“The entire bureau is stretched to the breaking point trying to catch this serial killer. This year’s clearance rate for murder and other violent crimes was already in the toilet before this guy started dumping bodies left and right. Now in the past week I’ve had an unauthorized sting operation from your department, and—”
“I was not aware that I needed your approval for such op
erations,” Nomura said placidly.
“Well, after this fuckup, you need my approval to take a piss. Everything from your section now comes directly to me for approval. No more surprises from your department. Not with the added scrutiny we’re under from the press over the Shibuya Killer. Plus, I need to find a new head for the task force assigned to catch the fucker.”
“I thought Suga was heading that up,” Nomura said.
“He was. Until the insubordinate prick went and got himself killed.”
“When was this?” Nomura asked.
“About an hour ago. So in addition to dealing with the fallout from that I’m scrambling to find a replacement for him.” As he said this, Endo’s eyes swiveled to Mei.
“Ms. Kimura! How would you like a promotion to head the task force searching for the killer?” Endo asked with a vicious smile. “And Mr. Kentaro, would you be so kind as to assist her in this? We could use another good detective working this case.”
“Now, hold on,” Nomura said. “You can’t just take away my best detective. Not when my department is overwhelmed as it is.”
Mei felt her cheeks begin to flush. Despite all her recklessness, her boss was still willing to stick up for her. And to think that he considered her his best detective was an honor she felt she didn’t fully deserve, given the circumstances. But it was still a thrill to hear it.
“And Detective Kimura is a solid detective in her own right,” Nomura continued. If he noticed a look of disappointment suddenly appear on Mei’s face, he didn’t dwell on it. “Our clearance rate for homicide is the lowest it’s ever been. At least let me keep one of them.”
Endo leaned back in his chair, steepling his hands in front of him as he considered this. “Very well. Kentaro will continue to work his other cases. But give him a reduced case load so he can assist with this investigation. We need someone with experience working this serial killer case, in addition to Kimura.”
“I don’t get it.”
Mei, Kentaro, and Nomura were back in his office.
“Why give me the serial killer detail after this? I just got an informant burned alive, now I’m being promoted?”
“Nothing about this agency makes much sense to me,” Kentaro said. “But this makes perfect sense, when you think about it.”
Nomura nodded. “The killer has already killed three people. Now all those unsolved murders are pulling your clearance rate down.”
“Shit.” She hadn’t thought of that.
“Like you said, it’s a high-profile case. If you succeed, you redeem yourself and make him look good. If you fail, he’s got an excuse to get rid of you. I don’t necessarily think he’s betting on you in this case.” Nomura looked grim. “And it might not be all he’s hoping for.”
“Oh, fuck that guy!”
Not being a toadying ladder-climber herself, she was always taken aback to have the politics of the job spelled out to her so clearly at times. Everything about the political side of the job struck her as vulgar and crass. Plus, the implication that Endo saw it as a way to get rid of her infuriated her.
“Hey!” Nomura snapped his fingers at her. “I thought I just heard one of my subordinate officers speak ill of a ranking officer. But I know that can’t be the case, because nobody under my command would be so stupid as that. Right?”
“Sorry, sir,” Mei said.
“Alright, go home. Both of you. And, Mei, be sure to read the case files I gave you. Regardless of what Endo’s wishes are for this case, you will solve it. Do you understand me?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good. Dismissed.”
Mei and Kentaro began walking back towards their desks.
“I don’t get it. How did you manage not to catch flak for this?” Mei asked. “He barely even seemed angry at you back there.”
“I don’t know. Must be my winning smile.”
Kentaro flashed her a lopsided grin full of crooked, nicotine-stained teeth jutting in every direction like tombstones in a graveyard.
“Yeah, that must be it.”
After reporting in from a pay phone, Satoshi hopped the turnstile at a subway station and rode back to the apartment he shared with Hisoka in Shibuya. She almost cried when she saw him arrive a little past seven in the morning. He was exhausted and ragged from the swim, his socks and boots still squelching with seawater. He gave her an exhausted hug and almost collapsed on top of her.
Hisoka was short, with a small frame that was only just starting to fill out. Her large eyes were wider than usual now with concern. Even with her hair a mess and her face puffy from lack of sleep, Satoshi thought she was beautiful. Of course, much of that was the quiet courage with which she carried herself. Because if nothing else, Hisoka was a survivor.
Hisoka was one of the “Namonai” children orphaned during the Great Kanto Tsunami of May 13, 2033, what would later be called 5/13. She was one of the tens of thousands of children who had lost their parents when the tsunami swept through the streets of Tokyo. Anyone on the streets or subways near the coast had drowned or been killed by the surging waters that day.
The orphans who couldn’t be matched up to official records were given the official designation of “Namonai,” or nameless. It was meant as a stopgap measure, but through official inaction it soon became de facto policy. What had been meant as a temporary term became their official names, then their identities.
“What hap—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Satoshi’s voice was raspy from the long walk to and from the train stations out in the open air without his respirator. His eyes burned too, and he wanted nothing more than to close them and sleep.
She put a hand on each arm and kept pace with him as he walked, staring into his eyes the whole time without saying a thing. He sighed.
“I’m not sure exactly. There was an explosion. Something in the cargo went up. I’m not hurt, though, so don’t worry about me.”
“What about the others?”
Satoshi averted his gaze at that question.
“Anyone that you—”
“I’m about to pass out, can we talk about this later?”
She clutched both of her hands in front of her mouth and nodded.
“Thanks,” he said, stripping off his soiled clothes and heading for the shower.
With the shower running in the next room, Hisoka sat there on the sofa, quietly crying and saying a silent prayer. Like she did every time he left the house on a job, and came home alive. She almost yelped when she heard a knock at the door, and slowly, timidly, she went to answer it.
It was what’s-her-name. Vasili’s assistant, the one Satoshi worked with sometimes. The beautiful one who frightened Hisoka. Kameko, that was it. It was her eyes that unnerved her so much. Her face was beautiful, practically flawless. But her cold, dead, black eyes absorbed light. They seemed vaguely reptilian.
But like it or not, Hisoka couldn’t turn her away. This was Satoshi’s business, and it wasn’t one you could turn your back on. She smiled at Kameko without inviting her in.
“Hi there … I want to say Hoshi?” Kameko said.
“Hisoka.”
“Of course.” Kameko’s smile was dazzling, her eyes flat and expressionless. “Sorry to trouble you. But I need to borrow Satoshi for a couple of minutes.”
“I’m sorry, but could it wait? He’s had a rough night.”
From the next room she could hear the shower turn off.
“I’m so sorry, but I’m afraid it can’t,” Kameko said with a look of fake contrition. “Our mutual employer asked to speak to him directly. And we don’t want to disappoint the big man, now, do we? May I?”
Without waiting for a response, Kameko tried to sidestep Hisoka, who instantly stepped in front of her, blocking the entryway. Kameko’s face lit up in a dazzling grin that didn’t extend to her eyes.
“Well, aren’t you just adorable!” she gushed. “A real spitfire! I can see why Satoshi likes you so much!”
/> And so saying, she reached out and slid one hand under each of Hisoka’s armpits, deadlifting her without the slightest hint of exertion and walking her back into her own apartment. Hisoka wriggled like a disobedient child in the air. Kameko gave her another smile as she set her down, then walked back into their bedroom yelling, “Satoshi!”
After some grumbling back and forth, Satoshi emerged, pulling a shirt over his head. He gave Hisoka a weak smile.
“Do you know where my other respirator is? And my overcoat too—I lost both of them last night.”
“Your good respirator and jacket? I think they’re in the closet. I’ll get them.”
Soon Satoshi was riding the elevator down with Kameko.
“Thanks for dressing up. I’m sure Vasili will appreciate that,” Kameko said.
“I only live to serve,” Satoshi said wryly as they stepped off the elevator and walked outside. “But I could serve a lot better with some sleep.”
“Yeah, join the club. You weren’t the only one working the night shift last night.” Kameko got behind the wheel of the black SUV.
“Doing what? Torturing puppies? Lighting cats on fire?”
“Ha-ha, close!” Kameko said without really laughing. She turned to fix him with a deadly serious look. “Had to exterminate a rat.”
Satoshi held her gaze, then nodded. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Kameko frightened him just a little.
“Mind if I sleep on the way there?”
“Sleep? And miss this glorious morning? The sun is shining”—she looked up through the windshield at the gray fog above—“somewhere, probably. Birds are chirping …” All Satoshi could hear were the sounds of traffic and cars honking. “Why, it’s another glorious day right here, in our dying city!”
“Don’t you ever get tired?” Satoshi asked as he closed his eyes.
“You know, I used to,” Kameko said as she maneuvered the massive SUV away from the curb and into traffic. “But then I thought: why bother?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Vasili waited in his office at Club Hyperion, the nightclub he owned at the top of the AJX Building that served as the primary base of his operations. He didn’t much care for having to weave through a throng of clubber dipshits when coming and going late at night. Nor did he care for the repetitive club music that pulsated into his office whenever he was here late. But it was a small price to pay for the view.
The Drowning City (Tokyo Noir Book 1) Page 5
