by Matt Lincoln
“Well, space is so tight, and traffic is so congested that it’ll actually be faster to take public transport than to try to drive,” I shrugged. “Not to mention, neither of us has any experience driving on the left side of the road.”
As we stepped out of the hotel and onto the street, I was hit with a wall of sound and movement. Even though the street had seemed crowded the night before, that was nothing compared to the throngs of people rushing along the sidewalks right now. There were so many people that I wasn’t even sure how to enter the flow of movement without accidentally crashing into someone.
“The station we need to get to is that way,” Junior indicated, pointing across the street.
“Great,” I replied sarcastically as I stepped into the crowd and began to move forward. It seemed like everyone was in a hurry to get somewhere, and when I stopped to make sure that Junior was following me, someone crashed directly into my back.
“This is intense,” Junior huffed as he caught up to me.
“Yeah, I get the feeling the entire case is going to be that way,” I muttered.
We waited until the crosswalk light changed and then walked across the street to the other side of the road. Just a few yards away was an entrance to the subway. I could feel air rush by as we descended, and once we got to the bottom, I realized that it was being caused by the speed of the trains as they passed.
We used the train passes that we’d purchased the previous night to get through the turnstiles and onto the main platform. I could see people lining up in neat queues behind numbers along the track, and I felt impressed at how organized they were. I’d spent some time in New York as a youth, and the subways were never this neat and orderly. However, the feeling quickly faded as the train arrived, and the lines immediately broke apart as everyone struggled to push onto the train at the same time.
I hadn’t realized that at this time of the morning, the trains were always extremely packed. This was their rush hour, except instead of driving, the majority of people rode the train to work. As a result, Junior and I both ended up being crushed among a horde of other people as soon as we boarded the train.
“This was a bad idea,” Junior lamented.
I agreed. I hated the feeling of not being able to move. If someone were to try to attack us right now, we’d have no way to defend ourselves. Of course, it was unlikely that anyone would be able to do anything when we were all packed this closely together. After a nearly unbearable five minutes, the train rolled to a stop at our station, and Junior and I both shoved our way out.
“We need to avoid the train in the early mornings,” Junior remarked as we made our way away from the platform and up the stairs. “I can’t believe I didn’t think about that. I spent the day before we flew out doing research, and I knew what rush hour was like. I think I was so focused on making sure everything was good with Fiona that it completely slipped my mind.”
“Eh, don’t worry about it,” I dismissed as we made our way up to the street.
If I was honest, the experience had been kind of interesting. Maybe not exactly fun, but still totally different from any subway I’d ever been on. The stress had gotten my heart pumping, and I could feel myself growing more excited about the case as we approached the police station.
We were closer to the center of the city now, and the buildings here were even taller. It was more crowded as well, but there seemed to be fewer ordinary pedestrians and more men and women in business suits. The police station was only a two-minute walk from the entrance to the subway station, and aside from that horrifically packed car, I felt a little impressed at how accessible everything was. The building was pretty small, and we were greeted by a police officer behind a desk as soon as we arrived.
“Hello, I’m Agent Chapman, and this is Agent Hills,” Junior introduced us as we approached the police officer. “We’re supposed to meet the police chief here today.”
The officer just stared at us with a confused expression before holding up one finger to indicate that we should wait. He yelled something toward the back of the building in Japanese, and a few seconds later, a portly man with balding hair came out from the area behind the desk.
“Can I help you?” he asked in heavily accented English.
“We’re Agents Chapman and Hills from MBLIS,” Junior repeated. “We’re here about the human trafficking case.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” the police officer nodded before leading us to the back room. “My name is Matsuo, and I am the chief here. Please have a seat.”
The office he’d led us to was small and only had two chairs in it aside from the one behind the desk tucked into one corner.
“The NCB contacted us and instructed us to assist you in your investigation,” Matsuo explained. “Since ours is the closest police station, we are the ones who are currently investigating it. Of course, we will assist you in any way we can, but I must warn you that I do not think any good will come of it.”
“What do you mean, no good will come of it?” I asked.
“I mean that prostitution and sex work are rampant in Kabukicho, the red-light district of Japan and the location where the most recent body was found. It’s a well-known secret that those things go on there, and nothing is ever done about it.”
“Why not?” I asked. It seemed ridiculous to me that a police officer, whose job it was to help and protect people, would just stand by casually as people were being hurt and exploited. It made me angry, and I was sure that anger showed in my tone. The police chief sighed and rubbed his hand over his forehead.
“You didn’t hear this from me. I’ll deny it if you ever claim you did,” he frowned as he laced his hands together on the desk in front of him. “That entire area is controlled by the Yakuza, the Japanese version of the mafia. The brothels, the casinos, the bars, even the hotels. The Yakuza have their hands in all of it. As much as I hate it, they have more power there than we do. We could shut down one organization, and ten more would pop up in its place. We can’t shut them down, so instead, we have something of an agreement with them.”
“An agreement?” I asked in disbelief. “The police have an agreement with a criminal organization?”
“I understand how it must sound to you,” Matsuo stated. “But you have to understand that it’s safer this way for everyone. We allow them free rein in their area, and in return, they keep their activities quiet and contained to that area. The majority of the women working in those places are there by their own choice anyway, so it’s not like anyone’s getting hurt.”
“What about the minority of the women who aren’t there by choice?” Junior asked. His voice sounded harder than it usually did. “Like the ones we’re here to find?”
Matsuo looked around as if unsure what he should say.
“I’m sorry, agents,” he sighed. “As I said before, I’ll assist you in any way I can, but I just want you to be aware that this mission will most likely be in vain. You’re swimming against a moving current.”
“Thank you for the advice,” Junior responded coldly.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This was the person who was supposed to help us, and he’d already given up before the mission even began.
“I’m assigning an officer to assist you for the duration of your time here,” Matsuo informed us. “His name is Daichi Fujioka. He speaks English, and he’s familiar with the case, so he should be able to help you with anything you need.”
He pressed a button on his desk and said something into the speaker in Japanese. A few moments later, the office door opened, and a tall young man with dark hair entered. He looked like he was about Junior’s age, and unlike Matsuo, he seemed confident and full of energy.
“You must be the agents from the United States,” the man smile. “I’m Officer Fujioka, but you can call me Daichi. I’m really glad to be able to work this case with you.” He spoke English without an accent, and I wondered vaguely where he’d learned to speak it so well.
“I’m
Agent Chapman, and this is Agent Hills,” Junior introduced us for the third time in less than an hour. We both stood and shook Daichi’s hand.
“Well, should we be going then?” Daichi asked. “No time like the present, right?”
“Fine by me,” I replied, more than ready to get out of this cramped office and get some real investigative work done.
“Thank you for everything, sir,” I heard Junior say to Matsuo as Daichi and I left the office. Even after everything he’d said, Junior was still taking the time to be polite. It wasn’t my style, but I guess it said something about his commitment to professionalism.
“I’m sorry about him,” Daichi smiled apologetically once we’d left the police station and were on the street again. “He’s pretty old fashioned. Ever since he found out you guys were coming, he’s been ranting about how pointless it is and how it’s just going to cause trouble for us. Frankly, I think the prostitution issue in Kabukicho needs to be dealt with. A lot of the older guys are just used to it, though, so they’ve become complacent.”
“Is that why you were assigned to assist us?” I asked. “Because you actually give a damn about what’s happening?”
“Oh, actually, I volunteered,” Daichi corrected him. “When I heard that you were coming to investigate the serial killer case, I immediately told the chief I wanted to be a part of it. Everyone else just brushes it off because they assume the women were sex workers. I knew there was a good chance that anyone else you got paired with wouldn’t really care.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re the one working with us then,” Junior smiled.
Daichi smiled in response. I wondered how long he’d been on the force. Usually, that eager disposition that all cops start out with faded after the first year or so.
“Well, where to first?” Daichi asked.
“We have a lead in an electronics store here in Shinjuku,” I said as I showed him the address Gardner had sent to my phone. “Whoever’s behind the murders tried to kill us by bombing our office back in the US. We managed to trace one of the bomb components back to this specific store.”
“Great, let’s get going,” Daichi responded. “The address isn’t that far from here. We’ll be able to walk there in about ten minutes.”
Sure enough, we arrived after only ten minutes, although I was surprised to find myself standing in front of a beef bowl store rather than an electronics shop.
“Are you sure this is the right address?” I asked.
“Yeah, it’s up there, though,” Daichi gestured, pointing up to the second floor of the building. For the first time since we’d gotten here, I realized that not every building contained a single business or company. Now that I looked around, several of the buildings all around us had signs posted along the exterior walls indicating that there were stores, businesses, and even restaurants up above the ground floor.
The entryway into the building was so narrow that we had to go in single file, and once again, I found myself feeling nervous about the close quarters. Inside wasn’t much better, as the stairway leading up to the different floors of the building was only marginally wider than the door.
We made our way up to the second floor, and once there, Daichi led the way into a tiny shop. There were rows of movies, games, and all manner of other electronic devices and the aisles were so narrow that only one person could walk through at a time. The three of us crowded into the cramped room and approached the man standing behind the counter.
“I’ll tell him that you’re federal agents and that we’re here to ask him some questions,” Daichi said before turning to the man and saying something in Japanese. The man behind the counter went still as Daichi spoke and began to eye Junior and me with suspicion.
“What do you want me to ask him?” Daichi turned to look at us.
“Tell him we want to know who he sold this part to,” I said, pulling the picture up on my phone and handing it to Daichi.
“He says he can’t remember,” Daichi replied after showing the man and the phone and relaying my message.
“Tell him that the piece was used to construct a bomb and that the American government is considering it a terrorist attack,” I growled. Before Daichi could say anything, Junior interjected with something in Japanese. I turned to him in surprise.
“I made sure to memorize a few key phrases on the plane,” he shrugged. “Including, but not limited to, terrorism, extradition, and prison time.” The man’s eyes had gone wide as Junior spoke, and he began speaking to Daichi in rapid-fire Japanese. Daichi said something to him, but the man shook his head furiously and began to yell while gesturing at Junior and me. Sensing that the situation was beginning to escalate, my hand drifted toward the gun on my hip.
“He says he sold the parts to a regular customer of his, a man named Suichi Goda,” Daichi revealed finally.
“Ask him if he has an address,” I prompted, relaxing and pulling my hand away from my gun.
“He says he isn’t sure,” Daichi explained after exchanging a few words with the man. “He says he keeps all his records on paper and that he might have his address in the back room. He says he shipped something to him in Kyoto once.”
“Kyoto?” Junior asked. “Isn’t that all the way on the other side of the country?”
“Yes,” Daichi nodded as the shopkeeper made his way through a door at the back of the shop. “It’s about three hours away by bullet train. We could probably get there before two if we left in the next hour or so. We can head over there as soon as we get the address.”
Everything Daichi said sounded fine, but something felt off, as though this was all going a little too well.
“Is there a back way out of this place?” I asked suddenly.
Realizing what I was thinking, Junior jumped over the counter and took off through the door the man had disappeared through while I made my way out of the main door and back down the stairs. I burst through the front doors of the building just in time to see the man hopping down out of a window and onto the street below.
“Stop!” I yelled, even though I knew he wouldn’t understand me. He turned to look at me for only a second before he took off running in the opposite direction. I took off after him and saw Junior duck out of the same window he’d jumped out of.
“He’s running!” I yelled over my shoulder. The streets were even more packed now that it was closer to midday, and I was crashing into people as I attempted to catch up to him. I saw him duck down an alley and followed him in. It was so narrow that I had to push people aside forcefully as I passed. He turned left as he exited the thin passage, and I followed after him, looking around frantically when I realized we’d entered a busy shopping arcade. I spotted him a few feet away, walking slowly with his head down and clearly trying to blend into the crowd. I took off at a sprint and tackled him to the ground.
Around me, I could hear people yelling, and someone even tried to pull me off of him. I reached into my coat and pulled out my credentials before announcing myself as a police officer. It wasn’t exactly true, but I thought that ‘police’ might be a more familiar term than ‘federal agent.’ Regardless, everyone seemed to back off once they realized I was some kind of authority figure, and I was able to refocus on the suspect. He was struggling, but I managed to get his hands cuffed behind his back just as Daichi and Junior caught up to me.
“Are you okay?” Junior asked as he helped me pull the shopkeeper off the ground.
“Fine,” I grunted as we led the suspect away from the crowd and toward a small alleyway between two storefronts. It was difficult to find a spot that wasn’t packed with people.
“Tell him he needs to give us the address now,” I urged Daichi while keeping my eyes trained on the suspect.
Daichi turned and said something to the shopkeeper who started to tremble in fear before stuttering something in response.
“He’s claiming that he really doesn’t know where it is,” Daichi replied with a frustrated sigh. “He lied about having it in
the back just so he’d had a chance to escape.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Junior insisted as he took out his phone. “We have the guy’s name, and we know he’s somewhere in Kyoto. I bet Fiona will be able to track him down.”
“Who’s that?” Daichi asked.
“Oh, she’s our intelligence analyst,” Junior informed him. “She’s basically a super hacker. She’ll figure out where this guy is in no time.”
“Great,” Daichi smiled. “In the meantime, I’ll call for some backup to have this guy arrested and taken to the station. He tried to evade the police, after all.” Daichi pulled out his phone and walked a few steps away to make the call.
“Anata wa watashi o tasukenakereba narimasen!” I looked down at the shopkeeper who had just whispered something to me in Japanese.
“What?” I asked dumbly. There was a pleading look in the man’s eyes, and he kept shifting his gaze between Daichi and me.
“Kare wa watashi o korosu tsumoridesu!” The man spoke a little louder, causing Daichi to turn our direction. He seemed scared, and even though I wasn’t usually one to take pity on suspects after they’d been caught, something about the guy’s demeanor was setting off alarm bells in my head.
“Sorry, I don’t understand what you’re saying,” I muttered.
“He’s asking for forgiveness,” Daichi informed me as he walked up to us. “The Japanese police system is a lot more strict and unforgiving than in America. He’s afraid he’s going to be held in custody for thirty days before he’s even officially charged, which probably will happen.”
“Seriously?” I asked. “People can be held for so long without any charges? In the United States, it’s only forty-eight hours.”
“Japan is an extremely safe country,” Daichi replied. “n part because our legal system is so strict. People know that even the smallest crimes can carry heavy consequences, so they think twice about breaking the law.”
It shocked me, to be honest. In the US, holding someone against their will for a month without charging them would have been considered a violation of their constitutional rights. This was the first time since I’d joined MBLIS that I’d truly stopped to consider how different the legal systems of other countries might be.
