by Matt Lincoln
Scantily dressed women hung out of doorways. They beckoned prospective clients inside, while just a few feet away, men in dark suits lingered around and observed. Leaning against walls and gathered in clusters on street corners were groups of young men clearly under the influence of one substance or another. Every once in a while, someone would appear seemingly out of nowhere and come to a stop directly in front of me. Sometimes they’d be holding a catalog, and they’d try to convince me to come into their stores to buy something. Other times, they’d firmly grip my arm and attempt to steer me into one of the brothels.
“It’s overwhelming, isn’t it?” Hajime asked as I brushed off yet another pushy salesman. “They won’t approach you as much if you stop making eye contact.”
I tried taking her advice, but it was impossible. Eye contact was a vital part of being an investigator. There was a lot that you could learn about someone with a single glance. Not to mention the fact that averting your eyes was considered a sign of weakness. I’d learned years ago to assert dominance in any way that I could. When I was struggling to survive as a homeless teenager, sometimes the only thing that kept me alive was my ability to intimidate others. It just wasn’t in my nature to walk with my eyes down.
“If the police know what a disaster this place is, why don’t they just shut it down?” I asked.
“It’s not that simple,” Hajime sighed. “Kabukicho is a huge tourist destination. Shutting it down would deal a huge blow to Tokyo’s economy. And it’s not all bad. Most of the businesses here are legally owned and operated, if adult-oriented.” Hajime spoke fondly, and I wondered if there was something about this place that was special to her.
“You know a lot about Kabukicho?” I asked.
“A little,” she responded with a small smile. “My friends and I used to come here when we were in college. We’d go to the themed restaurants, see a show, spend all of our money in an arcade and then go to karaoke until dawn. It’s a popular spot for young people.” The more she described it, the more it really did remind me of Las Vegas.
“Nevertheless,” she continued in a more serious tone, “I can’t just ignore the fact that horrible crimes are taking place here, no matter how nostalgic this place is to me. We’re almost at the meeting point.”
We walked a few feet further down the road before turning into a narrow alley. Waiting there was an NCB officer. He was tall and had short black hair, and it relieved me to see that he was wearing a casual shirt and jeans as well.
“This is Officer Akira Miyomoto,” Hajime introduced. “He’ll be accompanying you into the brothel tonight. It would raise suspicion if a woman tried to go in, so I’ll be waiting nearby for your signal. As soon as you locate Saito, just call or text me. I’ll move in the moment I get anything from you, okay?”
“Got it,” I replied as I went to shake Miyomoto’s hand.
“It’s nice to meet you, Agent Hills,” Miyomoto nodded. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”
“Likewise,” I replied simply. I’d never been a fan of long introductions or pointless pleasantries. “I’m assuming you’ll be handling most of the talking while we’re in there?”
“Yes,” he confirmed. “We’re fairly certain that most of the members speak English, but sticking to Japanese will reduce our chances of being found out. I’ll try my best to translate any time I can without arousing suspicion.”
“Okay, let’s go,” I replied.
We ducked back out of the alley, and Miyomoto led the rest of the way to the brothel. Just like the sushi restaurant from before, the entrance to the brothel was located down a long, dimly lit flight of stairs. Unless you were standing right at the edge of the sidewalk and looking down, it would be impossible to spot. We made our way down the narrow staircase, and Miyomoto knocked twice on the door at the bottom.
It opened a crack, and a gray-haired elderly man peeked out. He said something in Japanese and held his hand out. Miyomoto said something in response, and I caught Watanabe’s name in whatever he said. He handed a stack of bills over to the old man, who counted the stack quickly before pushing the door open wider to let us in. My heart started pounding wildly as he did. We’d reached the point of no return, and I could feel the adrenaline course through my veins as I stepped through the doorway.
The man led us up several flights of stairs. As we passed, I realized that the door leading to the fourth floor was padlocked shut. I looked away immediately and pretended not to notice. I glanced at the old man to see if he’d noticed me looking at the door, but he was walking ahead of us and facing forward.
“Did you see the door?” I asked Miyomoto quietly, leaning toward him so that I could talk without the old man hearing.
“Yes,” he answered. He kept his face forward as he spoke, and I followed his lead. It didn’t seem like there were any cameras around, but it was probably better to err on the side of caution.
The old man led us through a door on the fifth and top floor of the building. The area here was lavishly decorated in stark contrast to the drab and simple exterior of the building. Plush black carpet stretched across the entire room, and a couple of leather couches were situated in front of a receptionist desk. Past the desk was a large folding partition that blocked off the rest of the room. The old man said something to the much younger man sitting at the desk before turning around to head back out the door and down the stairs.
The receptionist beckoned us forward before pulling a thick binder from beneath the table. I had to grit my teeth to keep myself from reacting when he flipped open the binder to reveal dozens of images of women. He said something in Japanese to Miyomoto, who pretended to look through the binder before making a selection. I’d known what it was we were investigating, but now that I was actually here, the reality was so much worse than I’d imagined. I was so angry, and it was taking all of my self-control not to arrest the receptionist right now. I knew I had to play along until we found Saito, no matter how sick it made me.
The receptionist turned to me and said something before handing me the binder. I looked down at the photographs, shocked at the state of some of the women. Most had clearly been drugged when the pictures were taken. I flipped through the pages, in part to pretend that I was actually interested, but mostly to try to get a count for how many women the group had hostage. I stopped after about ten pages and just picked someone at random. Even though I knew it was a ruse, I still felt slimy doing it.
The receptionist texted someone on his phone before standing and beckoning us to follow him through the partition. On the other side was a short hallway with several doors lined along either side as well as one at the very end. The receptionist led us to the third door down on the left side. He unlocked it and then gestured for us to go inside before saying something in Japanese. The room was huge and luxurious. It looked like the kind of suite only found in really expensive hotels. Once we were inside, he turned around and left the room, closing the door behind him.
“He said that he was going to go prepare the girls,” Miyomoto informed me as soon as the door was closed. “He said they’d be up in twenty minutes, so we have that long to find Saito.”
I pulled the door open and crept out into the hallway slowly. The receptionist didn’t seem to be around, so I walked further out into the hall.
“Where should we start?” Miyomoto asked.
“That door at the end of the hall,” I suggested. “I’m assuming the rest of these are just more rooms meant for clients. Look above the door handle. That room has two locks instead of just one like the rest of the rooms. There’s something important in there.”
Miyomoto nodded in agreement, and we moved slowly down the hallway toward the door at the very end. I leaned forward and pressed my ear to the door. I could hear voices on the other side.
“There are men inside, speaking,” I informed him as I tried to discern what they were saying. “I can distinguish at least three different voices, I think. Possibly more. I’m going to get
my phone ready to call Hajime the moment we enter.”
I slipped my phone out of my pocket and pulled up Hajime’s contact information. As soon as we confirmed that Saito was inside, I’d press the call button. I turned the handle of the door slowly and rejoiced internally when it moved without resistance.
“It’s unlocked,” I whispered. “Get ready to move on three. One, two-”
“What are you doing?” I heard a voice screech behind us. I turned and made eye contact with the receptionist from before. He was standing at the end of the hall and holding a bottle of wine.
“Crap,” I hissed as I pressed down on the call button. We hadn’t found Saito, but we were probably going to need help soon now that we’d been caught. “It hasn’t been twenty minutes. What’s he doing here?”
The receptionist yelled something in Japanese, and the door burst open. In front of us was a man with a heavily scarred face. He was missing an eye, and I remembered what Watanabe had told us about Laura stabbing one of her captors in the eye during her escape.
I dove to the side as the man pulled a gun from a holster on his hip. I drew my own gun, but before I could fire, the man fell as Miyomoto shot him. I could hear screams coming from the other rooms as I got to my feet. A few of the doors opened, and men began to flee down the hall.
I could see three other men inside the room, and I pointed my gun at them before yelling at them to freeze.
One of them pulled his own gun from behind his back and fired at me. I dodged, but the bullet hit one of the other patrons who was attempting to escape. I fired back and hit him square in the chest. The other two men drew guns as their ally fell.
“Don’t move!” I yelled. Miyomoto had said that they most likely spoke English, and the fact that the receptionist had yelled in English made me think that they probably understood me. “Unless you want to end up like your two friends, drop your weapons and get down on the ground!”
The two men looked like they weren’t sure what to do. After a few tense moments, one of them tossed his gun away from him and got to his knees. The other one followed his lead, as he likely realized the tables had turned, and there was no way he could take Miyomoto and me on by himself.
I could hear several sets of footsteps thundering up the stairs, and I turned around quickly. It worried me they might have reinforcements coming, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Hajime at the head of the group. A few of the officers broke off to search the rooms lined along the hallway while Hajime and the rest stormed into the room.
“Get them in cuffs and search the perimeter!” Hajime called authoritatively. “Did you locate Saito?” She turned to look at me.
“I don’t know,” I answered. “They caught on to us and attacked. It all happened so fast, and I didn’t really get a look at their faces. The fourth-floor entrance is pretty heavily padlocked, though. I have a hunch that’s where they’re keeping the victims.”
“I’ll have my officers look into it,” Hajime nodded before saying something into her radio. She looked around the room at each of the four suspects “None of these men is Saito. We should alert Agent Chapman as soon as possible. If he’s not here, there’s a good chance he’s at the apartment.”
I looked around for my phone. I’d dropped it after placing the call for help to Hajime. It was lying on the ground just outside the room. The screen and part of the casing were cracked. It must have gotten trampled in all the commotion. I quickly scrolled through my contact list until I found Junior’s name. My heart dropped when the phone rang six times before going to voicemail. I called again only to obtain the same result.
“He’s not answering,” I informed them as I shoved the phone roughly back into my pocket.
“We should head there immediately,” Hajime suggested. Her eyes had gone wide when she’d heard that I couldn’t contact him. “He might have already encountered Saito. Let’s go.”
33
Junior
Takeushi was a broad-shouldered and muscular man. He was a little shorter than I was, but he still seemed more intimidating. His personality, however, was completely at odds with his physical appearance. He spent the entire train ride over to Saito’s apartment cracking cheesy jokes and telling me funny stories about his time with the NCB.
“You wouldn’t believe the things some cops will do,” he laughed. “They throw their entire careers away for something so dumb. One of the worst ones was one who tried to hire someone to kill his wife. The supposed hitman was a cop. Not only that, it was someone he’d gone to the academy with!”
I smiled politely as he told the story. I didn’t think it was very funny, but I understood that it was common for people in law enforcement to develop dark senses of humor in order to cope with the dark realities of the job. Miranda was a little like that, and I wondered if she and Takeushi would have gotten along if she’d been a part of this mission.
“Ah, we’re here,” he announced as the train pulled into Ginza Station, where Saito’s apartment was located. His voice had suddenly become serious, and the speed at which his demeanor changed shocked me. “Let’s go.”
Ginza was just as packed with people as Shinjuku had been, but rather than bright neon signs and billboards, massive department stores and luxury brands dominated Ginza. The majority of the people walking here also seemed to skew older in age.
Saito’s apartment was just a few minutes’ walk from the station, in a huge apartment building. A guard was posted outside of the main doors, and it worried me we might have trouble getting in. Then Takeushi flashed his police ID and barked something in Japanese, and we were let inside without hesitation. The lobby of the building was huge and opulent. The woman at the reception desk looked up at us warily as we approached, as she most likely didn’t recognize us as residents here. Once again, Takeushi showed her his credentials and said something in a commanding voice. The receptionist nodded in response and then directed us toward an elevator on the right side of the lobby.
“What did you say to them?” I asked as the elevator doors closed. “They both seemed to agree right away to whatever it was that you said.”
“I just told them the truth,” Takeushi shrugged. “We were investigating an international crime and that it was important that we get inside right away.”
“That’s all?” I asked. It surprised me that the truth was all it took. We usually didn’t get that lucky back home. People always wanted details that we usually couldn’t give them, or they just disliked an authority figure telling them what to do.
“That’s all,” Takeushi confirmed. “They weren’t Saito’s men. They’re just ordinary people doing their jobs. They aren’t going to go out of their way to defy the police when it doesn’t have anything to do with them. And besides, it’s easy to convince people to do things if you sound confident enough.”
It was a morbid thought, but in this case, it had helped us gain access to Saito’s apartment, so I’d mull over it later.
Saito’s apartment was the penthouse on the top floor, so we took the elevator all the way to the top. The elevator opened to a narrow hallway with only one door at the end.
“Get ready to move in,” Takeushi warned as we got into position in front of the door. “I’ll go right and clear that side of the apartment. You do the left. It’s the entire top floor, so it’s bound to have a lot of rooms. Ready?”
“Ready,” I nodded as I took my gun out of its holster.
“Police!” Takeushi yelled before kicking the door down violently. I flinched, taken aback by the sudden unexpected action.
“No point in knocking,” he smirked as he took in my surprised expression. “We have a warrant, so all that will do is give him time to come up with a plan if he’s in here. And it just feels good to destroy that guy’s stuff. Come on, let’s go.”
We moved into the apartment. As planned, I headed to the left and kept to the wall as I moved around corners. I wanted to look around, but we needed to make sure the apartment was clear before
we started rifling through anything. The apartment was huge, and I was in the middle of clearing the third room when I heard a gunshot from the other side of the apartment. I took off toward the sound.
I made it back to the foyer just in time to see a man run out the door. A few feet away from him, Takeushi was lying on the floor. I started to move toward him, but he held up a hand to stop me.
“It’s Saito!” he yelled. “Get him before he gets away!”
I didn’t think twice and sprinted out the door after him. The hallway was empty, and there was no way he’d gotten on the elevator this fast, so he must have gone down the stairs. I threw open the stairwell door and peered over the railing. A few floors down, I could see the man rushing down the stairs. I took off after him.
The muscles in my legs were burning, and the injury in my side was starting to ache. I knew that I’d be in a lot of pain later, but right now, the adrenaline was keeping me from feeling too much of anything. As soon as I made it to the third-floor landing, I climbed over the railing and leaped over the side. It was a dangerous move, but I needed to catch up to Saito fast. A jolt of pain shot up my leg as I landed, but I pushed through it to tackle Saito, who had just made it to the ground level as well. I fell down heavily on top of him and tried to twist his arms behind his back to handcuff him. Before I could, he whipped his head backward and struck me directly in the face. I recoiled on instinct, and I tasted blood in my mouth as I did.
Saito took the opportunity to push me off of him and scramble to his feet. He pushed through the door leading into the lobby and continued to run. I wiped the blood away from my nose and resumed the chase. I heard the receptionist gasp as we made our way through the lobby. Saito burst through the front doors of the building, and the guard there yelled something as I followed just a few steps behind him.
