The Tiger's Gate, page 17
‘It’s a bit late for cold feet, now. Go ahead. If you can keep hold of it, I would appreciate it. If you have to trade it or something, so be it.’
‘We’re going to have to be a bit more careful from now on,’ said Shirai. ‘We have to assume there will be someone watching you, once you start this. You will need someone looking out for you, as well. Someone to watch this Mizoguchi, too.’
‘Have we got the men?’ asked the General.
Shirai pulled a face. ‘It’s going to be a bit of a stretch. That’s one of the problems of running things here,’ he said, turning to Oshima. ‘We don’t have the men for this kind of thing – yet. It’s police work, really – or secret service. To be honest,’ he said looking at the General, who nodded, ‘We’re in the process of setting up a unit for just this kind of thing. We have a few good men now.’
‘Give me one of them, then,’ said Oshima. ‘I’ll leave you to sort out the arrangements. I’ll set up a meeting with Mizoguchi, and we’ll take it from there. I expect it will happen quickly, once it starts. I’ll need this, of course,’ he added, picking up the bowl.
‘Thank you, Oshima,’ said the General. ‘I know you didn’t think you were getting into something like this when you started.’
Oshima bowed. Sometimes that was all that was necessary when words failed. There was one thing he was wondering, though. It had been at the back of his mind all through the conversation. He looked at the bowl again, turning it around to examine the design more closely.
‘Where did you say you got this?’ he asked.’
Chapter 29
He had spoken to Nakajima the previous evening. Her response had surprised him. He had seen something in her before, something he could not identify, something he didn’t feel he had the right to pry into, but this made him think he had underestimated her completely.
‘You know that I have been undertaking investigations,’ he began, ‘into the death of Mr Yamazaki. I mentioned to you before, something about their progress. They seem to have led into something more dangerous than I had predicted. I am worried that this danger might not be for me alone. Anyone in this house could also be caught up in it. I’ve thought about this, but the decision must be yours. It concerns you, most of all.’
She sat listening, but betrayed no surprise as Oshima spoke.
‘I think this house may not be safe. You should not stay here. It would not be for long, a few days, or perhaps a week – I can’t say, but I want you to go.’
‘I don’t want to go, Mr Oshima. I won’t. This is my home now. You took me in, you’ve treated me well. You are always considerate. My place is here. I’m part of this house, now. I do more than just cook and clean. I’m not just a maid.’
‘Of course, but this is for your safety. It is because you are more than that, that I have a responsibility for you.’
‘Thank you for your consideration,’ she said, changing her tack. She could play the submissive woman if she had to. ‘I understand.’
She stood up, bowed, and left the room, leaving Oshima sitting there, not quite sure what had happened. She went straight to the kitchen, to the large pickle jars under the counter. Reaching in, she felt the coldness of the metal through the cloth and pulled out the gun, still wrapped up as it had been when Boss had given it to her. As she felt the weight in her hands, she knew her decision was right. Some things you have to fight for, and this was one of them.
When she returned to the room, Oshima was still sitting just where he had been. She bowed politely and sat where she had been, placing the wrapped gun on the table with a slight clunk. He has been in the army, she thought. He knows what a gun is. She unwrapped the paper with care, as if it had been a cake or a sweet, spreading it open to display the gun and the ammunition clip.
‘I can use it,’ she said, ‘And I will, if I need to.’
She slid the paper towards Oshima, turning it round so the butt of the gun was to his right. He gave her a hard look, then picked it up. He examined it carefully, then placed it back on the paper and picked up the clip.
‘Only two bullets,’ he said, mildly.
‘Quite enough for anyone who comes round here.’
‘You’ve fired one before?’
For a moment, Nakajima felt herself back in that small room in Kanda, fifteen years ago. She felt the shock and fear, the disbelief, as she was grabbed off the street, half escorted, half dragged into that, that shed, thrown in there and left. She had wanted, she had expected help, not abuse. The fear of the earthquake was still in her, she decided. That was why she had let herself be manhandled. Maybe it was in the men, as well. Maybe the wreck of the city had broken them down, stripped them of their human nature, leaving just the beast. She didn’t cry as she sat there, but waited dry eyed. In her hand was the gun that Kanemoto had given her. She hadn’t wanted it, but he had insisted. ‘It’s just the time you don’t think you need it that you will,’ he had said. How did he know? Kanemoto was like that. He came out with things that surprised them all, even Kim. But he had given her the gun. They hadn’t searched her. Why would they bother? She was just a girl.
It was night when they came back.
‘Are you letting me go? Have you thought better of it? Because I’m going right now.’
‘You’re not going nowhere, little sister. Not yet, anyhow.’
‘You’re letting me go right now or you’ll be sorry.’
The closest one half-turned to the men behind him. Perhaps he had caught something in her voice. Before he had turned back, she had pulled the trigger.
‘Don’t be surprised,’ Kanemoto had told her. ‘It’s going to be loud, but it’s going to be twice as loud for them, ’cause they’re not expecting it.’
She fired twice more and saw them fall. The last one whimpered and clutched at the wall. She burst out of the shed and ran.
Oshima saw the gleam in her eye before she answered.
‘I’ve fired one,’ she said, ‘And I hope they burn in hell,’ she muttered afterwards.
‘Right. That’s that, then,’ said Oshima briskly. ‘It seems, Miss Nakajima, that I have underestimated you.’
She smiled, briefly, ‘Perhaps, a little.’
‘Take this, then,’ he said, turning round the paper to slide it back to her. As he did so, his eyes fell upon the paper. He carefully slid it out from under the gun and the ammunition clip and smoothed it out on the table.
‘Where did you get this?’ he asked.
‘It came with the gun.’
‘And the gun? Where did it come from?’
She hesitated. For some reason, she felt nervous about telling him she had known his friend, and not told him. But then, she hadn’t known he knew Boss, not until after his death. She hadn’t hidden it, but there was so much she hadn’t told him. Too much. There were things she didn’t want anyone to know – Kim, the priest, and Yamazaki. They had already caused enough trouble.
Kim had been arrested; Kanemoto escaped, barely – shot and probably dying. She stayed with him for two days, doing what she could. She left the room where they were staying to buy food and call some of their friends, but when she came back, he was gone. She never found out what happened to him, whether he had crawled off to die alone, been picked up by the police, or – she thought this most likely – been killed and dumped in the river by one of their rivals. She was alone. They had all gone, anyone who hadn’t been arrested had run. There was money, a little, but not enough. She had gone to Mizo – he was always sweet on her – but what could he do? He slept in a boarding house. He shared the room with her until he came back one day to find her with the foreman of the workshop he did part-time work for. He walked out and she left before he came back.
It was the priest who saved her. She knew him from before, so when he bumped into her in Kabukicho, the banners outside the theatres fluttering in the spring breeze, it didn’t take much to persuade him to take her out, and then, well, things had followed naturally. He was a good lover and a considerate partner. But there was a touch of cruelty she had seen in him from the beginning. Perhaps it was only a matter of time before she felt it herself.
She had thought she was ready, but the shock of the betrayal was more than she had expected. Perhaps she had loved him, she certainly felt bad enough afterwards, bad enough to take up with that snake of a secretary of his. And after that... after that she couldn’t remember. All that was left was a rope round her neck in Aokigahara.
Yamazaki had cut her down. Couldn’t bear to see a woman kicking and choking her life away. Saved her for what? she thought. Living in that house was already like living in the grave. She had no hope, no energy to do more than sleep and eat. It was Boss that woke her up. She supposed he had seen her many times – she took no notice of people’s comings and goings in that house. He had just sidled up to her one day.
‘Hey, sis. Coming for a stroll, then?’
‘Who goes for a walk when it’s raining?’
‘I do.’
‘You must be crazy, then.’
‘What if I am? No law against it. Besides, I need someone to hold my umbrella while I have a smoke. Whaddya say?’
She looked at Oshima.
‘Boss. He just wrapped everything up in it.’
‘You knew Boss?’
‘He didn’t know I worked for you. I didn’t even know you knew him. Not until after...’
‘When did he give you this?,
‘Just before he left. He was running from someone, someone he knew in the army, he said.’
‘But he didn’t take his gun.’
‘He wanted to go light. And anyway, if you only have one hand..’
‘Quite,’ said Oshima, returning to the paper. ‘May I keep this?’ he asked, waving the paper. I think you had better take the gun. Put it somewhere you can get it. And Ms Nakajima,’ he said as she was rising to leave, ‘Better keep it loaded.’
He looked at the paper again, going over it carefully. Was this from Mizo? If not, where had it come from? Boss must have been to see him, or broken into his studio. When? he wondered. Was it before that day in Ueno? Did he know about him already? Boss dealt in information. He had his ear to the whispers. He caught things nobody else heard. Now he thought about it, he had appeared fortuitously more than once. He knew Nakajima, too. But that could have been perfectly innocent. He knew so many people.
He put Boss aside. One way or the other, it couldn’t help things now. However it had come to him, he had the paper now. There were diagrams along the top that he recognised from Chinese works of philosophy and astrology, the in-yo diagram, the five elements, the seven stars and a few he couldn’t immediately identify. These had been drawn along the top as an aide-memoire or for working something out, perhaps. Down the side were four designs that Oshima assumed were those of the four bowls. The designs of the three generals had been sketched roughly. One of these he recognised from the description he had from professor Asai. Another was the bowl formerly owned by Seiun. He had seen the photograph of this. The other two were, he presumed, the bowls taken from Yamazaki’s storeroom and the one from the Germans. He was surprised that two of these designs were, as far as he could tell from the pictures, the same. At the bottom of the page was a blank circle. Below it was written ‘Komei.’ It seemed Mizo, if this was his paper, had known what he was looking for, and that this bowl from the General was the right one.
Next to this was the question, ‘From here – ?’ but who was to say what that meant? There was nothing to help decipher whatever clue the bowl contained. Next to the other drawings were slight annotations denoting location or special arrangement, but nothing concrete enough to base any search on. There was also the confusing note at the bottom, henka. He was familiar with the term as it was applied in martial arts, indicating a variation or unorthodox application of a technique. Did that mean Mizo was also looking at some unorthodox reading of the clues. It was something to think about, to be sure. He folded the paper and sat back in thought. This was more than he had, but far, far less than he needed. At least it confirmed that Mizo was looking for the bowls. This had been the right choice, despite the danger.
He was suddenly tired. He stood up and stretched. A bird chattered its tuneless call outside and he felt a longing to be in the countryside. He felt the spreading city all around and promised himself that he would get out when this was over. By then, the rains would be here. But after that – somewhere cool in the heat of summer. He pictured the blue sky and the towering white clouds and he felt a calm flow over him.
Sitting at his desk, he found a piece of the thin paper used for calligraphy, a stick of ink and his ink stone. Grinding the ink came naturally – he had spent so many years doing it that his fingers moved by themselves. But when he came to write, the characters would not flow and the harmony was lost. He looked at what he had written – the poem was simple, but the faults sprang out at him. It had been months since he had written anything. He was reminded why. It was not his technique that was wanting, but his heart that was out of balance.
Chapter 30
It was not as difficult as he had thought. Mizo had his suspicions – what they were, Oshima couldn’t be sure, but they were there, nonetheless.
He had sent a letter suggesting they meet in the city. Shirai had suggested somewhere near Tokyo Station, a well known tea shop on the Yaesu side towards Nihonbashi, five minutes from the station. When Oshima arrived, ten minutes before their appointment, he was surprised to see Mizo was already there. He was sitting nervously, facing the door. Oshima pretended not to see him at first, and it was Mizo who half stood, beckoning him over.
‘Oshima! Over here. Well, well, have a seat. Getting quite warm, isn’t it? What will you have?’
Mizo beckoned the waitress over and ordered tea for both of them. His eyes lingered on her as she set out the cups, the plates of delicate looking sweets and the teapot. She poured the tea and his gaze returned to Oshima.
‘I was quite surprised to get your letter. Of course, I’m happy to see you, but it sounded urgent.’
‘It is, in a way. Oh, nothing to be alarmed about, but still, perhaps speed is necessary. I wanted to meet somewhere we could talk. It’s quiet here at this time in the morning.’ He sipped his tea and looked around. ‘Forgive me for being blunt, but I think we may be able to help each other. In fact, I think we are the only people who can help each other. We are in a unique position.’
Mizo looked as if he wasn’t following. Oshima wasn’t surprised. He didn’t care if Mizo understood him or not as long as he felt Oshima’s sincerity. This was true of negotiations anywhere, he reflected. They have to accept you before they accept what you’re saying. He went on quickly, occasionally stumbling over the words.
‘You probably realised. Of course, it was chance that brought us together, but something more than that. I don’t know if I would be saying this to anyone else, but we know each other from before, and that means something.’
Mizo was nodding, ‘Yes, but I don’t understand. Slow down Oshima.’
Oshima stopped, took a deep breath, and continued.
‘It’s like this. I was asked to look into the killing of a shopkeeper in my neighbourhood. There’s nothing particularly strange about that. The police weren’t interested and my neighbors thought I might be able to get things moving. But it was what I found out afterwards... connected to that. I didn’t know anything, not really, when I met you that first time. Boss was dead, and I guess I was still in shock. I hadn’t seen much of him, just enough to know that he was on the tail of something. Something big, he said, but he didn’t tell me what.’
Mizo looked at him nervously. He still wasn’t sure where this was going.
‘I received something from him. A package. I think he must have left it in his belongings ready to be sent, because it only came to me two days ago, with no explanation. There was a letter in it, a short letter, and something else. The letter first. I thought it was fantastic at first. It sounded like a story. I mean, hidden treasure – money, whatever. But it’s true, isn’t it? Keisei did leave clues as to where the money was hidden.’
Mizo looked even more uncomfortable. ‘Look here, Oshima. I can’t...’
‘It’s all right, you don’t need to say anything, Mizo. I know you have those bowls. The one from Professor Asai – a nice touch to say you were a friend of mine; the one from Yamazaki; the one from Seiun; and the one from the Germans.’
Mizo just sat there, the color drained from his face. He started to get up, but Oshima placed a hand on his sleeve.
‘Wait, Mizo.’
‘What? What do you want from me?’
‘Sit down. I didn’t come here to tell you what you already know. This is for both of us.’
Mizo settled himself, but he still looked ready to run.
‘Listen, Mizo, because there are more people in this than just you and me. You want what Keisei hid, I know you do. But you haven’t found it yet, have you? You don’t have all the clues. You’re missing one. I have that clue.’
It took a moment for Mizo to register what he had just heard. ‘Y..you? You have the clue? What do you mean by that?’
‘I have the last bowl. The final clue.’
‘You have it? How?’
‘It came with that letter. Boss had it.’
‘Boss,’ said Mizo slowly. Oshima noted that. Mizo knew something he didn’t. ‘How can you be so sure?’
‘It must be, don’t you see?’
‘Tell me about the design? What’s the design?’
‘Komei from the Three Kingdoms.’
‘That’s it. Yes, you’re right. That’s it!’
His excitement was genuine. It slipped through his guard and Oshima saw it in his face right then. He was hooked, but he still had to be reeled in.
‘Could be,’ Mizo corrected himself, ‘Could be.’
‘That means, between us, we have all the clues. We can solve this, you and me, working together. What do you say?’
