Tokyo Zangyo

by Michael Pronko

“I’m trapped between the shelves.”

  Hiroshi banged on a stack. “Is it this one?”

  “You’re close.”

  Hiroshi banged on another.

  “That’s it.”

  Hiroshi pressed the button trying to get the stacks to move, but he realized he’d have to go to the last one and move each stack one by one. He ran back and jammed the button on the last row but it didn’t work. He shook the stack and pressed it again, and it slowly groaned to the side.

  He moved down one by one pressing the buttons and leaning into the stacks to get them to move faster. The gears were slow. He moved down one more aisle, but that button failed to work.

  “I still can’t move,” Chizu shouted.

  Hiroshi yanked everything from the shelves in the open aisle, dropping them on the floor and removing the shelves so he could slide in and pull out more. He moved until he could see Chizu trapped between the stacks.

  “Can you get up to this shelf?” He kept disassembling the shelves and dropping them on the floor behind him.

  “My leg’s trapped.”

  Hiroshi pulled on the stack, rocking it back and forth to loosen it. “On the count of three, pull your foot up.”

  “I got it!”

  “I’ll pull you out along this cleared row of shelves.”

  Chizu held out her arms, coughing and clearing her throat.

  Hiroshi pulled her with one hand and pushed himself backwards with the other.

  Chizu got to the opened aisle, and Hiroshi helped her down. They were both coughing. The smoke was getting worse and he could hear the shuffle of a struggle at the other end.

  Chizu latched onto his hand as they stumbled over boxes and sidestepped files as they made their way toward the door.

  When they got to the hallway, Hiroshi pushed Chizu into Imasato’s arms and saw the hallway filled with detectives, firefighters, and company executives.

  Hiroshi went back inside the smoke-filled storage room followed by the firefighters. The sound of fighting had stopped. Hiroshi held his light up, but the firefighters’ lights clicked on and lit up the space.

  Hiroshi hurried to the back as the firefighters searched for the source of the smoke.

  At a corner at the back, Hiroshi found the source of the smoke—flames leaping from an avalanche of papers. Beside the pile, Nakata lay sprawled on the floor.

  On the other side of the pile, Takamatsu was climbing onto his knees and shaking his head. He must have been knocked out. Hiroshi hurried over to help him up.

  “He punches hard,” Takamatsu said.

  The firefighters sprayed foam on the stack of half-burned papers, but the smoke continued to thicken. Another pile of boxes and files smoldered at the far corner where the cinderblock walls met the concrete floor.

  Hiroshi bent down and took Nakata’s wrists, one over each shoulder and started dragging him to the door. He turned back to be sure Takamatsu was coming but he was bent over, coughing hard. Hiroshi waited for him and reset Nakata over his shoulders.

  He met more firefighters coming in with bright head lights.

  “It’s over there,” Takamatsu pointed. “Nakata was trying to burn files.”

  Hiroshi dropped Nakata on the floor in the hallway, and one of the new detectives slapped handcuffs on him as a firefighter put an oxygen mask over his face. His head rested against the wall and rolled back and forth, his eyes closed.

  Takamatsu came through the doorway, his face bloodied and covered in dust and ash. He reached for his cigarettes, looked at them, and put them back. “Reminds me of when I first started. Bar fights and building fires.”

  Chizu was wrapped in a blanket and surrounded by detectives and emergency techs. “I told Nakata I was quitting. He asked me, politely, to find a few more files, bring them up from down here, my last assignment. Then, I don’t know what happened. I woke up trapped, where you found me.”

  “When was that?”

  “About four or five in the morning, after I’d finished everything for the press conference.”

  “You’ve been there since then?”

  Chizu nodded. “He came back later, I guess. I couldn’t see, but that’s when I smelled smoke. He must have started burning the files I pulled down.” Chizu wiped her face again.

  “What did he have you pull?”

  “I was so exhausted I couldn’t even read. I didn’t care anymore. I told him I was leaving and that’s all I could think about.”

  The president of Senden arrived with a small retinue of upper management. He went straight over to Nakata and stood over him where he was slumped again the wall.

  Nakata stirred and his eyes focused.

  Hiroshi leaned over to hear what he said.

  Nakata took off his oxygen mask. He looked at everyone, taking in the scene. He leaned back, not bothering to stand, and started to speak. “I gave up smoking years ago, but I took one of Onizuka’s after I found him on the roof. We sat there talking about the past. We started at the same time, competed for the same promotions, but the path gets narrower at the top. He was jealous of my HR spot and I was jealous of how much he got away with.”

  Nakata stopped to put the oxygen mask over his face again, his chest rising and falling. Then he continued. “Onizuka figured out the money I’d been sending through his section’s accounts. Don’t ask me how, but he did. I told him that money was going to cover deficits in branch offices, but he didn’t believe me. Onizuka always knew everything. He must have known for a long time, but once I knew that he knew, everything changed. If he exposed the scheme, there’d be a scandal, and for once he wouldn’t be the center of it—I would be.”

  “So what did you do?” Hiroshi asked, already knowing, in part.

  “I helped him get the knots undone. He was freezing and I gave him my coat. He talked about how much he hated himself, hated a long list of people. He said he would be too humiliated if people knew about this. He said there’d be photos. He wasn’t completely coherent. He just kept saying he’d had enough.”

  “Why didn’t you call someone?”

  “His scandal was our scandal. Senden always handles things inside.”

  “So…?” Hiroshi prompted.

  Nakata took another lungful of oxygen. “He started begging me to help him over the fence. I thought about just walking away. I didn’t think there was any way he could get over the fence.”

  “So, you went through the fence.”

  “There was a box of tools that had been left in the hallway, under a tarp. They’d been doing some repairs on the roof.”

  “We didn’t see any box of tools when we searched the roof.” Hiroshi looked at Takamatsu.

  “There were pliers, with a cutting edge.” Nakata shrugged. “I don’t know where they went. I put them back.”

  The president turned to his retinue and they nodded assent.

  Hiroshi kept at Nakata. “So, what happened after that?”

  “I clipped the fence, just like opening a zipper, and pulled it open until there was enough room for him to get out.”

  “He pulled it open or you did?” Hiroshi asked. “He would have been too drunk to stand.”

  “No, he could stand. And he could pull it open himself. But then he said he knew I was on the roof the night Mayu killed herself.”

  “Were you?”

  Nakata nodded. “I tried to stop her.”

  “But you failed.”

  Nakata nodded again. “I’d asked Mayu to return to Onizuka’s section to watch him. We’d always met on the roof when she found something. But that day she got hysterical. Something just went off inside her. She stood up screaming, at me, at everything. There was no fence there at that time. And before I could even react, she ran straight to the edge, took off her shoes, and jumped. It was all over in an instant. I ran after her, but—”

  “But you didn’t do anything, didn’t tell anyone.”

  “Who would believe me?”

  “How did Onizuka find out about that?�
��

  Nakata shook his head. He didn’t know.

  Chizu stared at him in disgust and turned away.

  Takamatsu told the four young detectives to take Nakata to the car. He told them that Osaki and Sugamo would show them the booking procedures at the station.

  They hopped to it with enthusiasm, pulling Nakata up from the floor.

  The president spoke to the detectives. “Could we remove the handcuffs, please. There’s still media with cameras hovering around the premises after the press conference.”

  Takamatsu gave Hiroshi an “I told you so” look.

  Chapter 40

  In the hallway, everyone watched Nakata being walked away. Hiroshi wondered how much of what Nakata said was true and how much was self-protective PR. But it hardly mattered. He’d never work in a company again, or work at all, even if his jail time was reduced by the mitigating factors he was no doubt working up in his head. His name would be reported and the story blown out of all proportion in some scandal-loving weekly. Nakata would become yet another sacrifice to the Senden system.

  Takamatsu whispered to Hiroshi. “I told you about the wirecutters.”

  Hiroshi whispered back. “They were pliers.”

  “They’ll have Nakata’s prints all over them. I promise you.” Takamatsu pulled his lighter out and flipped it around in his hand.

  Hiroshi whispered, “You’re right. They will.”

  Chizu came over, still wrapped in the blanket. “Thank you for saving me.”

  “You helped us immensely,” Hiroshi told Chizu.

  “Like I told you, I’m quitting. I got accepted into an MBA program in America. I moved most of my personal things out already, so I just need to go upstairs and get my coat and bag,” Chizu said.

  Takamatsu told one of the detectives to accompany her and then drive her home.

  “Best of luck,” Hiroshi said. “You’ll do great.”

  Chizu smiled. It was the first time Hiroshi had seen her smile. “Did you piece all the files together?”

  “There are still a few missing connections, but without you it might have taken years, or never gotten done at all.”

  “Do you need me to come in and give a statement?”

  “Why don’t you rest first?”

  “I haven’t slept in two days,” she said, rubbing her neck. She bowed before turning on her precisely five-centimeter regulation high heels and walking away.

  “And thank you,” Takamatsu yelled after her.

  That was the second time Hiroshi had heard Takamatsu say thank you—twice in one day.

  Imasato led them back through the maze of underground passageways to the parking lot. Sakaguchi was already in the car. Akiko was standing by the car, waiting for them, and writing notes for the reports they’d have to file later.

  “We could have used you,” Takamatsu said.

  “Not with this knee,” Sakaguchi said. “I got Osaki and Sugamo off to the station with the young detectives.”

  Hiroshi started to get in the car but was startled to see his uncle standing by the tall windows with a young man. They both dressed in three-piece suits and held briefcases. Hiroshi walked over to them, feeling curious and very surprised.

  “Uncle, what are you doing here?” Hiroshi asked.

  Hiroshi’s uncle smiled. “I had a short meeting to conclude a few items left over from my work with Senden.”

  Hiroshi said, “It’s quite a coincidence.”

  “Not really, your secretary…is that her?” Hiroshi’s uncle looked at Akiko, who smiled back. “She told us you’d be here. I heard more about your life from her than I have from you.”

  Akiko turned to Hiroshi. “I filled him in a little bit.”

  Hiroshi’s uncle said, “And this is the son of one of my former colleagues. Like you, he’s an accountant.”

  “Watanabe desu.” He bowed deeply to Hiroshi, Takamatsu, and Akiko, holding out his meishi name card in both hands.

  As Hiroshi rifled his pockets for his meishi, Hiroshi’s uncle said, “He works for the National Tax Agency, in the corporate tax section.”

  “Is that right?” Hiroshi found one last remaining meishi in his wallet. It was wrinkled and had an embarrassing smudge of dirt around the edges, but it was the only one he had.

  Watanabe said, “I work with your uncle from time to time.”

  Hiroshi’s uncle said, “Watanabe knows his stuff. All I ever have to do is follow the threads he’s already connected.”

  Watanabe held Hiroshi’s meishi and looked him in the eyes. “I was wondering if we might meet sometime. I’ve been reviewing Senden’s taxes for several years now.”

  Hiroshi’s eyes lit up. “I’d be happy to meet.”

  “What about tomorrow for lunch?” Watanabe asked.

  “I’ve hardly slept the last week. Would Monday be OK?”

  Watanabe smiled. “That’d be fine.”

  Hiroshi didn’t want to go with the others to the station, so he begged off by telling him he was going to talk to Toshiko.

  Sakaguchi’s knee hurt and Takamatsu was still coughing, so Akiko drove them back.

  Hiroshi walked with his uncle and Watanabe to Tokyo Station, chatting about this and that, none of it about work or the case. Inside the old brick front of the station, they parted for different train lines with brisk bows.

  Hiroshi went up to the Chuo Line platform. The escalator felt like a gift. He bought a heated can of coffee from the kiosk and waited one train to be first in line to get a seat. In three minutes, the next train pulled into the terminus, and he sat down at the end by the door and sipped the hot can of coffee.

  He texted Ayana and asked what she had planned. He’d completely forgotten what she had told him that morning, or was it last night? Ayana texted back not to forget the time, as if she hadn’t even read what he wrote. He couldn’t dredge up what it was they were celebrating, but he wrote back that of course he remembered. Dress nice, Ayana texted back.

  As the train headed across the city, Hiroshi finished the coffee and let himself doze in the morning sun warming the train car.

  He wondered if Nakata had been telling the truth. It would take a lot of time to prove the rerouting of funds, and he didn’t want to get into it unless he could acquire the actual files through proper channels. That meant going through the ministries. Senden might not cooperate. It was better to hand everything on Senden over to Watanabe at the Tax Agency. Let taxes trip them up.

  ***

  Hiroshi woke up as the train pulled into Kichijoji Station and walked north through the small boutique and specialty stores. They cheated on their taxes too, the small shops, but he felt sympathy with them. It was the 70-50-30 rule. Individuals paid 70 percent of what they owed, small businesses 50 percent and large corporations 30 percent. Maybe with people like Watanabe in the Tax Agency that would change, though nothing ever seemed to change quickly in Japan.

  Mayu’s mother, Toshiko, was in front of her flower shop washing the windows. Hiroshi watched her for a minute, wondering what to say.

  Toshiko noticed him and he tried to act like he had not stopped to watch her first. She set down the bucket she’d been using.

  Hiroshi said, “I wanted to stop by and ask about Suzuna.”

  “I saw her this morning, but she was sleeping.” Toshiko looked down. “I’ll try to get her moved to a closer hospital in Mitaka. So I can visit her at lunch and after work.” She set the sponge and squeegee into the soapy bucket. She stripped off her rubber gloves and buried her face in the crook of her elbow and fought back tears. “I almost killed her too, didn’t I?”

  “You didn’t kill anyone. Suzuna’s still in shock. It takes time.”

  “I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you for saving her. I couldn’t have survived a second loss.”

  “Suzuna will get better in time.”

  Shio came out from the small walkway that ran along the side of the shop. She carried two bags of dirt over her shoulder, each of which looked heavi
er than Shio herself. She bent over to flop the bags down. “Did you get everything sorted out at the company?” Shio asked Hiroshi.

  “Did Sugamo and Osaki let you leave the hospital?”

  “They made Masayo and me promise to give an official statement today. We’re going to do that in the afternoon.”

  Toshiko said, “Shio told me a little about what happened.” She looked at Shio. “I feel like I’ve got another daughter.”

  “You do.” Shio smiled. “And Masayo, too.”

  “Ones I’ll take care of this time.”

  Masayo came out from inside the shop and bowed deeply to Hiroshi. “Shio and I can come to the station anytime to give our statement.”

  “Let’s do that Monday,” Hiroshi said. They last thing he wanted to do was put these two women in jail, even temporarily. That wouldn’t help get the story straight.

  “What’s going to happen to these two?” Toshiko asked.

  “You have a good lawyer, the one who got you the settlement with Senden. Call him.”

  “We’ll accept whatever happens,” Masayo said. “I’m so sorry about all this. We’ll help get things cleared up.”

  Shio said, “I’ve got dirt to move.”

  They both bowed deeply before skipping off. Hiroshi watched them go. There wasn’t much more he could do for them. He’d talk with the judges and prosecutors, but their stories spoke for themselves.

  “I hope they’ll stay for good,” Toshiko said. “Suzuna and I were just about to rent a small space in the station building for walk-by traffic. The space is only this wide.” She stretched out her arms and looked back and forth.

  “An arm’s width is all you need,” Hiroshi said. “Especially now that you’ve got more help.”

  “We can’t store much there when the shutters are closed, and the refrigerator is teensy, but we’ll get delivery tricycles to take things back and forth from here. There are more people than ever in Kichijoji these days,” Toshiko said.

  “I just wanted to let you know who was responsible for Onizuka’s death, and Mayu’s too, in a way.”

  Toshiko looked at him, ready.

  “It was Nakata, the head of HR at Senden. We’re not sure of all the details yet, but he was there.”