Hidden Nexus

by Nick Tanner

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ said Junsa Saito yet again. ‘But yesterday he did seem keen for me to tell him anything about our investigation in terms of any links with the Yakuza. I just assumed that monitoring their activities was part of his broader remit.’

  ‘So have all of us. Look – let’s keep this idea to ourselves for the time being. Like I said you never know who else might be in the Yakuza’s clutches and, I hate to say this, but we’d both better watch our backs from now on.’

  ‘You don’t-’

  ‘I’m afraid I do. I think we’ve stumbled into something a lot bigger than a straight forward murder case.’

  With this thought in their minds they remained silent once more. Junsa Saito smiled nervously but behind her smile she was now shaking in fear. It took all her self-knowledge and resilience to hold herself together.

  As she sat in the security of Inspector Saito’s home she felt battered by a mix of emotions. She was now having to come to terms with a much more sinister turn of events involving Yakuza infiltration of the police force and the implications for her own safety. It made her feel vulnerable when all she really desired was protection. And these feelings were now enflamed by what possible actions might lie in the future concerning the deeds of the Yakuza in general and Inspector Sakamoto in particular.

  She contemplated the week before last when her life had been in order, when all had seemed fine, when all had seemed simple. Perhaps too simple and too fine, but none-the-less a life she had become accustomed too – a life that, yes, she had enjoyed even if it had been a little boring and a little lonely.

  She thought back to just six nights before when everything had been in order. She’d returned home as her daily routine had dictated at about ten-thirty, pleased to get back before the snow came down and pleased to get out of the biting cold that even the warm blooded buzz of recent gym activity couldn’t protect her against. She’d made herself a cup of coffee, which for her was not a two minute activity involving instant coffee and a kettle full of boiling water but more an exact series of operations akin to a delicate scientific experiment given the precision in the measuring out of the coffee, the warming of the pot and cup and the careful drizzling of the hot water over the steaming ground coffee beans. She’d added to this beverage a delicate corner of anpan and then settled down to watch the TV, flicking through the paper as she did so. All had been in order – all had been as it should have been.

  Now it seemed that her own life might be in danger - it had upset her more than she could give it credit for.

  Inspector Saito’s voice cut into her thoughts. ‘Would you like a bath later? Because if you do I’ll have to heat the water!’

  She nodded that she would and for a fraction of a second they caught each other’s eye. There was no mistaking the look of understanding between them. They both looked down embarrassed.

  ‘I-’ She picked up her glass. ‘Perhaps I will have that second glass,’ she said, not knowing why.

  ‘Junsa!’ said Saito touching her hand gently. ‘I should apologise for my behaviour this morning. I had no intention of spying on you. It was unforgivable and unbefitting. I’m sorry.’

  Junsa Saito remained head bowed as if it was her that was making the apology. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ she mumbled quietly.

  ‘I wouldn’t, but I can’t stop thinking about it – about you. I embarrassed you. It was wrong. Gomenasai!’

  ‘I-’

  ‘It’s stupid, I know, but don’t think bad of me. It’s just-’

  ‘You don’t need to say anything more,’ interrupted Junsa Saito fearing that if the Inspector continued he would admit to more than he would really wish. ‘Apology accepted – and anyway I’m not sure that I actually minded.’

  Inspector Saito looked up at her and their eyes met for a second time. She smiled impishly back at him.

  For a second there was an exquisite silence between them before the Inspector, caught up now in his own embarrassment, struggled to his feet and wondered into the kitchen for another sake bottle.

  Junsa Saito, not for the first time, considered her own feelings. She was struggling to reconcile her need for fatherly support with her more physical desires, with her newly found fears and her need for protection. Suddenly from deep within her she was overwhelmed by a great wave of sadness.

  ‘Hey, there, there,’ said Inspector Saito on returning to the room to find Junsa Saito gently weeping. She did her best to brush her tears away but they came on even harder as the Inspector gently put his arms around her and pulled her closely to his chest. They remained in this position for many minutes neither saying a word to each other but both gaining comfort and both knowing that it felt instinctively right – it was in effect a fatherly embrace of a daughter.

  ‘I’ll take that bath now,’ she whispered.

  ‘Then, you’ll have to wait, I’m afraid. Are you okay, though?’

  ‘I’m fine – I think.’ She looked up gratefully. He smiled back again marvelling at the beauty of her eyes.

  ‘It’s been a strange day,’ he confessed.

  ‘It has.’

  ‘I’ll put that heater on,’ Inspector Saito eventually said, feeling slightly sad that he had to relinquish her from his grasp. He eased himself up and wondered down the hall to the bathroom, pressed the button to start the heater and then returned to the main room.

  ‘It should be ready in about ten minutes,’ he said sitting back down and reaching once again for the sake bottle.

  Once more they sat in silence – but a contented silence at that.

  As they sat Inspector Saito studied her, but this time with a fatherly eye. He understood a little of her sadness and at the same time marvelled at how she so successfully managed to shrug this off and enlighten the lives of the people around her. And yet she herself was so deeply sad. He could see that now and it made him feel for her even more. He also admired the way in which she managed her own silence. Despite her tears of a few moments ago it appeared that she had regained a sense of composure. He guessed that she’d been forced over the years to manage herself pretty much all of the time. It gave her a resilience that he also admired. He studied once more her tear-stained face, now calmer and if not quite serene, then she was close to it. The redness of her cheeks, brought on by the sake gave her a rosy glow on the right side of drunk.

  For a moment or two Saito considered placing his hand very gently, very lightly on hers, but he feared that this action would be misconstrued but then overpowered by a sudden impulse he lent his arm over the table and gripped her hand tightly in his. They looked at each other and both felt reassured.

  ‘That water will be heated by now,’ he said softly, attempting to sound normal. You know where the towels are.’

  ‘I do,’ she smiled.

  62 - In which the three begin again

  Thursday 6th January 9:30am

  ‘I haven’t got long, you know. They’re bound to notice if I’m late!’ the woman said in urgent tones.

  ‘I know. This won’t take long. I promise.’

  Junsa Saito was in a Moss Burger restaurant around the corner from the Millennium Massage Salon sitting opposite the woman she’d managed to talk to on the previous day. She had declined on refreshments. Her companion, by contrast, devoured a burger hungrily.

  ‘Disgusting!’ the woman said emphatically scooping up some pickle off the table from where it had dropped and forcing it back into the burger.

  ‘Then why did you get it?’

  The woman shrugged her shoulders.

  ‘What’s your name by the way?’

  ‘You can keep my name out of it.’ She looked warily around the restaurant. ‘If they knew I was talking to you I’d be finished.’ She drew her finger across her neck.

  For a fraction of a second Junsa Saito thought about her own safety. 'Then why are you talking to me?' she asked.

  The woman shrugged again. 'I don't know. You said something about Rumi. Is she okay?'

&nbs
p; 'As far as I know she's safely in the Korean consulate in Fukuoka.'

  A look of palpable relief spread across the woman's features. 'I'm pleased. But I don't understand why you are so interested in her.'

  'We're more interested in Fujiwara. We need to know everything we can about him - his movements his character, his business. Are you willing to help?’

  The woman shrugged her shoulders yet again.

  Junsa Saito sighed and blew out her cheeks. This was going to be harder than she first thought.

  When she'd made the journey back out to Hinodecho she'd once again not really known what to expect nor for that matter how she wanted to proceed. It had been a million to one shot that she’d managed to locate the woman in the first place but it appeared this little piece of luck was all she was due.

  She looked at the woman in front of her. Yesterday she’d appeared friendly and helpful. Today she appeared rougher – a tainted diamond, essentially good-looking but flawed by her profession and its trappings. Her makeup so effective at enhancement in the half-light now appeared grotesque through its over-application.

  After finishing off her burger she licked her fingers and then stretched her arms out horizontally, slowly extending them back behind her as far as her muscles would allow, her breasts straining forward against her dirty white blouse. Junsa Saito observed this brazen show and wondered for whose benefit it was for. She turned around and spotted a restaurant worker with interested eyes and a smirk spreading over his face as he took the order from his next customer. The woman winked at him and seemed more intent on furthering this flirting than in anything Junsa Saito had to say.

  ‘You must have known Fujiwara a long time?’ suggested Junsa Saito.

  The woman made no reply and simply fiddled with her ear-ring with her right forefinger. At least it was a different response than the shrugged shoulders.

  She was however, equally dismissive about the series of questions Junsa Saito then asked her about her life and her work in general.

  For the woman’s part she was unsure whether or not she was enjoying this little alteration to her routine. She felt secure and insecure simultaneously in the same way that she felt helpful and helpless. She was also suspicious of the female police officer's real intentions. Surely the police didn’t need her to tell them what was really going on in the Millennium Massage Salon? The massaging masquerading as a brothel, the easy availability of drugs and their widespread use? What planet were the police on? But Junsa Saito continued with her questions. The woman felt less and less relaxed, nervous that each additional question delayed her that little bit longer. Fujiwara may be dead and Rumi flown the coup but that didn't mean that the Yoshihara were about to allow everyone free reign. She tugged nervously at her hair and constantly looked around her. But still the questions came, this time honing in with detail on her daily routine and so feeling more and more like some over-informed fourteen year old teaching her sheltered middle-aged mother all about sex-parties and wife-swapping she continued on.

  And still the questions came.

  Last Thursday? Where had she been? Well if she must know she’d been at the Millennium Gate night club for the early part of the evening. They’d been short she’d been told. She’d come back to the Massage Salon just before nine.

  And then? Junsa Saito had persisted.

  She’d had a number of clients until around midnight. She was sure Junsa Saito, with her pink little face, didn’t want to know about all the details behind that!

  And of Fujiwara? What had he done on Thursday night?

  Thursday night? Why all this interest in Thursday night? That’s what she wanted to know. Rumi would know better.

  ‘I told you all this stuff yesterday.’

  ‘I know – thank you.’ Junsa Saito paused to think of what else to ask. She was running out of ideas.

  'You ever seen this woman before?' She slipped a photo of Yamada Eri across the table.'

  'No.'

  'Or this woman?'

  'I don't recognize either of them.'

  ‘Okay - thank you. One last thing. Do you know why Fujiwara was ordered to do yubitsume?’ she suddenly asked pleased at her inspiration.

  ‘I’ve no idea. Look, I’ve told you all I know. I worked for him. I’m not sad he’s gone. That’s all I know. It’s time I left. And thank you for the burger.’

  ‘My pleasure,’ mumbled Junsa Saito wondering if the journey hadn't been a huge waste of time.

  *

  Inspector Saito generously handed round some bento boxes that he'd bought and the three of them started their discussions again.

  ‘Okay – what have you found?’ asked Saito inviting Mori to begin.

  Between mouthfuls Mori recounted what he now knew. He’d been directed to tidy up the Watanabe lead. The news was as predicted. ‘Mitsui reported that Watanabe had indeed been at the vote on the self-defence forces. It seems his alibi is sound.’ He looked vacantly at the other two.

  ‘Are you saying someone actually saw him there?’

  ‘Mitsui checked with a few other Diet members that are close to Watanabe. They can vouch for him. One even gave a time. Apparently he was seen at nine forty-five.’

  Saito thought for a minute. ‘It is possible to get from Yokohama to Tokyo in that time, but it’s cutting it all a bit fine if he was strangling Eri Yamada an hour earlier. But I doubt he could then get back down to Sanyoshinko for eleven. It does appear that he’s in the clear but something still doesn’t feel quite right about this. I don’t know what but-'

  ‘Mitsui was keener to share additional information about suspected embezzlement that’s been happening within the faction,’ continued Mori. ‘I didn’t want to get too distracted by it despite Mitsui’s insistence that I go through all the computer records and bank details.’

  ‘Well did you?’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Go through all the bank details.’

  ‘Not in minute detail but certainly the books appear to have been cooked - at least according to Mitsui.’ Mori scratched his chin. ‘I found it difficult to gauge Mitsui if I’m honest.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘I mean his motives. I just wondered whether he’d do anything to get revenge against Watanabe, so much so that he’s keen to dig up any old dirt on him. He was also insistent about Watanabe being involved in a pay-off to that woman in the paper – Junko Iida. He has photos supposedly catching him in the act. He then started linking the pay-offs to the embezzlement. It took all I could to get him off his pet-subject and get him to focus on last Thursday.’

  Saito also scratched his chin. He too, couldn’t decide whether any of this information was pertinent or not. Certainly it cast Watanabe in an even darker light in terms of his morality but on reflection, for the moment, saw this as purely an internal matter for the faction or at least a matter for the Tokyo police department should Mitsui choose to press charges. Nonetheless he stored the information away to be put to use at a later time. He looked back to his colleagues. ‘But despite your misgivings Mori, Mitsui confirmed that Watanabe was indeed safely within the Diet building when Yamada san was murdered.’

  ‘He did.’

  Saito drummed his fingers on the table. ‘So, we can really rule out Watanabe from now on. Okay. Junsa – do you have any positive news?’

  ‘Nothing conclusive, sir. I met up with one of the women who work at the 'Salon', but she couldn’t really add anything to what she told me yesterday. So then I tried Rumi Park and all she can confirm is Fujiwara’s declining state of being over the past week, indeed over the last few months, although she can’t put it down to anything specific. He didn’t really confide in her, obviously. The only good bit of news is that she couldn’t confirm his whereabouts on Thursday night. Not that it means much. All she could say was that he wasn’t with her and that she didn’t see him at all on Thursday night and that he was more than unusually drunk the next morning which is how she managed to fashion her escape. She did
confirm that it was her that gave him his head injuries, though.’

  ‘I don’t blame her, do you?’

  ‘No. From what I can gather she’s been a virtual captive for the past nine years.’

  ‘Hmm… so it still leaves us with Fujiwara possibly in the frame,’ said Sergeant Mori.

  ‘Do you really think it is possible that in the time between her rape and her death that Ozawa had time to organise a hit?’ asked Junsa Saito.

  ‘More likely that it had been organised in advance, don’t you think? It may now be quite probable that the whole rape thing is just a red herring. The mystery here has everything to do with Fujiwara and the Yakuza. It has to?'

  'And our Sanyoshinko woman? What of her?' asked Mori.