‘I represent Katsuyama II. Would you please have Fujiwara-san call me as soon as he returns.’
There wasn’t much she could do faced with the newfound authority in my voice. This wasn’t the request of a nobody. It was an equal making a demand.
‘But—’
I cut her off by leaving my number.
‘Please have him call me as soon as he can,’ I said and hung up.
Two minutes later my mobile rang.
‘I’m told you represent Katsuyama-san?’
‘That’s right,’ I said brusquely. It was petty but I’d had enough of being the begging boy – someone else could make an effort for once.
‘And what is it you want with me?’
‘I’d like to meet up. There were some loose ends left when Katsuyama went away and your name’s come up more than once. I thought I should check with you before things went any further.’
It was a gamble but either he had enough of an involvement to be worried by this or he didn’t, in which case there was no point meeting up.
‘It’s not going to be easy,’ he said, sounding blasé. ‘My schedule’s incredibly busy. When were you thinking?’
‘Sometime this afternoon or the evening at the latest – it needs to be soon.’
We’d see how relaxed he really was.
‘Wait a moment,’ he said, not sounding particularly happy at the demand.
I heard him cover the phone, muffling the voices that followed.
‘This evening then,’ he said. ‘Come to my place in Omotesandō.’
I took a right out of the station down Omotesandō Dōri and then turned left, away from the designer boutiques and into quiet side roads. They were similar to the others in this castle-town of a city, but differed in their refinement and expense. Fujiwara’s place was hidden at the end of an alley that came off a crescent. It had a particularly luxurious air.
I rang the bell and after being quizzed briefly I was buzzed in. The gate opened to reveal a small but well-proportioned garden surrounding a building that oozed money rather than charm. A maid was waiting at the door, and after fussing over me for a moment, she led me through a white-walled hallway into a large, coldly minimalist room.
‘Thank you for coming at such short notice,’ said Fujiwara, rising from the sofa. Considering I’d been the one who demanded the meeting, it was an obvious attempt at gaining control. ‘Can I get you a drink?’
There was nothing one could immediately single out for criticism. He was handsome, his hair was perfectly styled and his clothes looked like they came from all the right shops. But something about him was too obvious, as though he took his tips from watch ads in glossy magazines. I may have backed down to Takata and Kurotaki but I wasn’t going to defer to any alpha-male business from him.
‘I’ll have a glass of cognac,’ I said. ‘Hine, if you’ve got it, but if not something else nice. It’s been a long day.’
He tried to give me a strong look but it wasn’t up to recent standards. I ignored it and he nodded to the maid who scurried from the room.
‘So what it is you want to clarify?’ he asked in a more haughty tone. ‘It’s been a busy day for me too and I have further appointments after yours.’
Again there was nothing I could put my finger on, but it seemed as though with this his true colours shone through. Or perhaps it was me. He wasn’t only film-star good-looking, he was talented – I’d checked him out on Wikipedia – and there was a possibility he’d slept with Tomoe as well. Jealousy doesn’t make for a good judge. I decided I disliked him all the same.
‘Katsuyama-san came to see you before she went away,’ I said.
‘She did,’ he agreed.
‘She wanted to talk to you about the sumō meeting,’ I added, hoping the fewer blanks there appeared to be, the more he’d fill in.
‘She did.’
He wasn’t really playing his part.
‘So why were you there with him?’
He looked at me slightly intrigued. Perhaps it was a different line of questioning to Tomoe’s.
‘My agency had a couple of ringside boxes and offered one to him. Their relationship’s been getting stronger recently and I suppose they wanted to encourage that. His meeting with Takata was already arranged, but I think he felt it would be more natural to go backstage with someone like me.’
‘Someone like you?’
He looked at me in exasperation.
‘An actor.’
I looked back blankly.
‘Actors, rikishi, artists, writers – we’re all part of the floating world.’
I smiled. He didn’t know he only had associate status.
‘With me being part of the ukiyo, it was only natural I accompanied him behind the scenes.’
This was all well and good but it was getting me no closer to knowing who ‘he’ was. Asking would have given my ignorance away.
‘Why’s his relationship been getting closer with your agency?’
‘It’s been that way since Kōda died. I imagine it will be until another kuromaku appears.’
Christ. Instead of the name I needed, I was hit with a barrage of other information. Now I needed to look into ‘Kōda’ and find out what a kuromaku was.
‘Onishi had visited the studio before but very rarely. It was only when Kōda died that he started to come more often. He’d meet Yabu – Tokyo boss of the Ginzo-kai – there.’
Finally, among all of this, he had a name. Onishi. But it didn’t make sense. Why would the Education Minister be mixed up in this? His only claim to fame I knew of was his controversial revision of the history curriculum. Short of having the Chinese bomb Pearl Harbor it was difficult to see how it could be portrayed in a more nationalist light.
‘You’re close to Onishi then?’ I asked, trying to keep him talking.
For a split-second his studied mask of nonchalance slipped and a look of terror flashed across his eyes. Almost immediately, he reorganised his face.
‘I wouldn’t say close; we’re acquainted. But anyway,’ he hurried on, ‘in a break I took him to the changing area where he met up with Takata. And that’s it. That’s all I know – your people know a lot more.’
If that was true, what had worried him into meeting me?
‘But I don’t know exactly what happened at the meeting.’
‘Your boss does. You can ask him.’
‘He’s a busy man. And maybe he would tell me something different to what you told To— Katsuyama. So can you tell me what you told her please?’
But something had changed in his expression. Whatever he had thought I had on him, he no longer believed I did.
‘Maybe your girlfriend had more persuasive methods of interrogation,’ he said, straight-faced but with a smirk in his voice. ‘I don’t think you’ll match up, so perhaps you should find time with your boss.’
His taunt worked too well.
‘Don’t blame me for your girlfriend’s profession,’ he said, flinching as I sprang to my feet. ‘I only slept with her. It wasn’t down to me.’
It was a strange choice of words but they only jarred later.
‘But she didn’t want to sleep with you, did she?’ I said, my lip curling. ‘You’ve got all these starlets and groupies after you, but deep down you know it’s for what they can get from your fame. Then you met someone who had no need for it, the kind of person whose response would tell you whether you have any meaningful appeal. And she didn’t want you, did she? The only way you could maintain your self-pretence was to take advantage of her when she was desperate.’
‘You don’t know anything. It wasn’t the—’
He stopped himself.
‘No, go on, finish what you were going to say. Surely you’re not scared of me?’
He sneered. ‘Look at you. What, you think you’re some kind of big-shot because you’ve got the Takata name? Good luck. See how long that lasts. The gaijin-gumi are on their last legs. Takata’s even started running to the police. So no, I’m not scared of you.’
I saw him give a faint nod towards the doorway, presumably at the maid. I didn’t pay it much attention because I’d sat down and was unravelling the bandage on my hand.
‘You see that,’ I said, holding it up. ‘I did it to myself. I’m not the first and I won’t be the last, but until you’ve cut off your own finger you can’t appreciate what it does to the way that you think.’
I felt something cold spread through me. It took the fire from my temper but made my anger more clinical.
‘I’ve never been in the slightest bit violent – I even used to get squeamish watching films. But when you take a knife to your own finger, when you cut through your own flesh and bone, it does something to the way you see things and the way that you act. Now it wouldn’t bother me to see someone get hurt. I honestly think if I had to, I could grab something like that pen there and stab a person right in the eye.’
I don’t know who was more chilled by what I said, him or me. But before either of us could react his mobile went, its ringtone repelling the electrified air. It seemed to activate something in him. He pulled it from his pocket and bolted from the room.
I was much slower to react and when I did it was to curse. His nod to the maid and then the phone call moments later – they weren’t likely coincidence. The last time I’d been in a meeting similarly interrupted, I’d ended up flying out the window of a moving car.
It was only when I reached the front that I realised an unconventional departure might have its complications, but the thought of the man-monster from last time gave me the boost I needed and I hurled myself over the gate. As I hurried down the alley I tried to work out which way to go at its end. I assumed they’d come the same way I had so I decided to turn left. A glance to the right affirmed the decision – a car with blacked-out windows was parked fifty metres away.
It was hard to believe they could have got there that quickly but I wasn’t going to leave it to chance. I kicked into a sprint up a small winding road, then kept going straight where it curved away. I vaulted the walls of the apartment building’s garden, rejoining the street on the other side.
I paused to work out my position. If I followed the same line I thought I’d be on course for Gaien-nishi Dōri. I took off again and before long the sound of cars in the distance suggested I was right. But the triumph of my bearings was short-lived – the street narrowed to a path that ended in small steps abutted by a high wire fence. I looked back. I couldn’t see anyone following, but if they were, running towards them didn’t seem a great idea. I turned back to the fence, swore at it once and started to clamber up.
On the other side it was just a short jog to the main road, which wasn’t too bad even with the ankle I turned on the drop down. But despite it looking like I’d made good on my escape, my instincts were yet to be convinced. When a taxi pulled up, I pushed my way in almost before the passengers had a chance to get out.
I ducked below the line of the window. The driver gave me a quizzical look.
‘Yoyogi, please.’
If I was being tracked I assumed they’d look for me in Takadanobaba rather than at Tomoe’s place.
When the car had gone a few hundred yards I felt confident enough to sit up. I was tempted to close my eyes and revel in temporary safety, but I couldn’t afford to relax. I needed to fit the new information into place.
The third man was Onishi, the Education Minister, but I could see no reason for him being involved. He clearly was though, and possibly more than he would have liked due to the death of Kōda, the kuromaku who’d passed away.
I googled the term. Originally, it had referred to the wirepuller who manipulated the kabuki stage with a black curtain. Now it meant a fixer, the link between the yakuza, business and politics.
So the normal balance of power had been skewed. Without a middleman, Onishi had met Takata in person, evidently not to the most cohesive effect. Considering Onishi’s apparent relationship with the Ginzo-kai, this shouldn’t have been too much of a surprise.
But Takata was so wily I remained suspicious. One had to be ready for double-deals and manipulation whenever he was involved. Perhaps he had aligned with the Ginzo-kai against Onishi, or maybe he was trying to turn Onishi against them.
It still didn’t answer the question of why Onishi was involved.
I stared out of the window at some of Tokyo’s less picturesque streets, their drab grey and the autumn drizzle at one with my mood. My mind jumped to what Fujiwara had said about Takata going turncoat. It surely couldn’t be true. But if he had, and everyone knew, he’d be in trouble. And if he was in trouble my situation would turn sticky pretty fast too.
It was unrelenting. Anytime I found anything out it only revealed a lot more I didn’t know. Every time I spilt my blood for an answer, more questions and the probability of more punishment arose.
The taxi let me out at Tomoe’s. I went up to her flat thinking it would comfort me, but her scent was fading and that depressed me instead. I curled up on the sofa and held one of her jumpers to my face. I needed to be with her, to feel her body tight against mine.
I thought of the times I’d lain on this spot and stroked her calf as she walked by; kissed the nape of her neck as she cooked; or shared the gentlest embrace as we drifted to post-coital sleep. I had to believe I’d do those things again.
But I knew if I was going to, it wouldn’t be without a fight. And I knew I wasn’t up to it alone. Even if she wasn’t here I was going to need Tomoe’s help. I would have to borrow her passion, her fire and her strength.