‘Clarence-san, thanks for coming,’ said Takata, sounding as though my being there was a pleasant surprise.
‘The invitation was quite compelling.’
He poured some tea into a cup which he pushed across the low table.
‘Please, sit down. You look like you could do with giving your feet a rest.’
I looked at my shoeless feet. Above them my trousers were ripped and my shirt was torn down one arm and streaked all over with blood.
‘Thank you, I could,’ I said as I sat. ‘It would be great not to be on a hit list too if there’s anything you can do about that. Or if I am on one, perhaps you could just get it done with instead of having the shit beaten out of me every other day.’
He ignored the sarcasm.
‘I’m afraid I can’t do anything about your first point, Clarence-san. As for the second, I’ll try my best but you have a tendency to find trouble. It makes it difficult to give guarantees.’
‘It doesn’t sound like there’s much you can for me then, does it? You could tell me why you killed Tomoe, at least.’
I may not have had any hope of surviving but I still had some of her fire.
‘If you wanted me out of the picture you could have had Sumida shoot me. There was no need to do what you did.’
I felt myself soften as I said it, at the thought of her on my bathroom floor. I fought the vision. I couldn’t afford any weakness if I was going to cope in the moments before my death.
‘Chōshi-san was not killed by me or at my request,’ he said. ‘Aside from the admiration I had for her – which I think I’ve made clear – I very much needed her alive.’
I looked at him closely. I couldn’t work out this new angle, what purpose any games could have now.
‘What do you mean? If it wasn’t you, who killed her?’
‘To start with your second question, she killed herself.’
‘No!’ I said vehemently. ‘That’s bullshit. Tomoe’s death wasn’t suicide.’
I was sick of all the lying, especially now there was no point.
‘What do you want? If you’re going to tell me the truth, tell it. If you’re not, do whatever you’re planning to do.’
‘Clarence-san, I understand you’re distressed but I can assure you I haven’t lied to you since we met. I’ve withheld details I felt wouldn’t benefit our joint objectives, but what I have told you has been the truth.’
He fixed me with one of his looks but I still had enough of Tomoe’s fight left to meet it.
‘You’re right, Chōshi-san wasn’t what might be considered the suicide type. But she did take her life. She was about to be abducted. That would have led to the same outcome but with some unpleasantness in between. By choosing her own time and method she not only avoided this, she prevented her oppressors getting what they were after. And she used her death as a form of seppuku. She died with honour and used her passing as a rebuke to theirs.’
Now his face softened.
‘Your Chōshi-san was as admirable in death as she was in life. You should take comfort from that.’
‘But why didn’t she contact me?’
The thought hurt, whatever my newfound ‘comfort’.
‘She was already dead. She took her life shortly before you found out she was missing. They froze her body in case they had need for it – as they later found out they did.’
I tried to process this. I was still struggling to come to terms with the fact she was no longer alive. This was a revelation too far.
‘Clarence-san, just because her life was taken at her own hand, it doesn’t mean she didn’t have killers and it doesn’t mean she wouldn’t want revenge. And if anyone is capable of exacting vengeance from beyond the grave, it’s Chōshi-san.’
This cut through my shock.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ve been of great service to the Takata-gumi for your ability in effecting events, but that wasn’t the sole reason I took you in. Chōshi-san cared for you and she admired you. I knew if there was anyone she would have entrusted to assist her, that person would have been you.’
I thought for a moment. I couldn’t think of anything she’d entrusted to me. She’d seemed far keener to keep me from being involved.
‘But she didn’t. She didn’t tell me anything.’
I racked my brains to make sure it was true, that there weren’t any clues or messages I might have missed. But there weren’t. I hadn’t had any idea what was happening then and I still wasn’t much wiser.
‘I don’t even know what’s going on now – how can I do anything? And how can Tomoe get revenge now that she’s dead?’
‘Death won’t be a barrier,’ he said, sounding entirely convinced. ‘As for you, perhaps she told you something you need a prompt to bring back. Or maybe she left you a message you’re yet to find. However it transpires, you’ll be the key to unlock this. As long as we keep you safe, you’ll be the one who allows Chōshi-san her revenge.’
It was ridiculous.
‘What is “this”? Can you at least tell me what’s going on? My girlfriend’s dead, I’ve been beaten and nearly killed, and I’m being chased by gangsters and the police. I think I have a right to know.’
He smiled and held up his palms.
‘You’re right. I’m sorry but I needed you to seek your own answers. It was essential your actions drew certain responses.’
‘You used me against Onishi,’ I said, cutting in. ‘You wanted to worry him at first, so he’d think there was someone who could pose a threat but someone you might be able to control. Then you wanted to panic him, to lure him out. You used me as bait.’
Even Tomoe did, I thought.
‘I apologise for any distress the lack of information may have caused you,’ he continued, ignoring my interruption. ‘But I promise, I haven’t tried to kill you and I certainly don’t want you dead. The truth is I need exactly the opposite: it’s essential you stay alive.’
The stay of execution brought a lot less relief than I might have expected. My brain was already overwhelmed, and the dangling of life and death before me had become too common to react to normally in any case.
‘But as you say, you have a right to know and there’s no benefit to you not knowing any more. It may even help.’
He took a sip of his tea.
‘You’re already aware that something wasn’t right with the Kamigawa site. This wasn’t known from the very beginning but Ishikawa was a scientist who lived locally and for some reason he had his doubts. He did his own investigation and discovered the site ran directly over a previously undiscovered fault. But by that point, things had progressed too far. The report was buried along with its author, who died in an unfortunate accident soon after he handed it to KanEnCo.’
‘How was Tomoe’s father involved in any of this? He had nothing to do with the nuclear industry.’
‘He wasn’t anything to do with the industry, but he was from Shizuoka prefecture where the plant is. As is Onishi. In fact they were from the same town and they knew each other when they were young. When Onishi first started out, Chōshi helped him with campaigning and fundraising. Onishi was a nobody then and took whatever assistance he could get. But when he moved beyond local politics, he only brought the associates he considered beneficial. Chōshi wasn’t one of them.
‘Chōshi accepted his lot but he still hoped the connection could prove useful later on. He’d helped start Onishi’s career after all and he was sure that was worth a favour somewhere down the line. Many years later, when his businesses started to fail, he thought the time had come when he could call it in. Onishi now headed up the LDP’s wealthiest faction and had the power to make poor men rich and rich men poor. Chōshi didn’t even get a response.
‘As his businesses fell about him, he was forced into the arms of moneylenders. He grew bitter. Normally that kind of bitterness just rots at the insides of those it consumes. But Chōshi got what looked to be a break.
‘One evening, he was drinking with one of his cronies when a report on the Kamigawa Plant’s construction appeared on the bar’s TV. His friend was an estate agent and remarked on the swathes of land he’d bought for Onishi years before. He speculated on the mark-ups that must have been made when they were sold on to KanEnCo.
‘Chōshi may not have had an eye for business but he wasn’t dumb. He got copies of the original purchases and then checked the registry for the sales to KanEnCo. Onishi’s name wasn’t mentioned but all of the companies that sold the pieces of land could eventually be traced back to him.
‘Chōshi realised he might have found Onishi’s Achilles heel. But he knew in the grand scale of scandals it still wasn’t enough. So he sat on the information he had and quietly dug for more. He had an advantage over the protestors. Passing information to them was the same as taking sides and that could lead to a rapid decline in one’s health. The snippets he came across over drinks and dinners were the gossip of unaffiliated parties that could be safely passed on.
‘Eventually he got a name. But after Dr Ishikawa’s accident, his family developed reclusive traits. However, when Ishikawa’s wife passed away, nearly twenty years after her spouse, Chōshi went to pay his respects to the son. He convinced him that should he have the means, he would avenge Ishikawa’s accidental passing. He was told Ishikawa had indeed left a copy of his report. The son, now without fear of repercussions being borne on his mother, would be happy to give it to him if he promised to bring down the men responsible for his father’s death.’
‘So Tomoe’s father had been working on this for years?’ I asked, impressed by his dedication.
‘Of course. You don’t tackle a man like Onishi like that,’ said Takata, clicking his fingers. ‘Chōshi’s pride ruined his life in almost every conceivable way. But as a vehicle for retribution it was a formidable trait.’
‘But if he had the information, why didn’t he hand it to the police or the papers?’
‘Who in the police? The ones who brought you to me? And which newspapers? The ones KanEnCo has its advertising accounts with? The ones that contain associates of mine? Or perhaps those that have one of Onishi’s many contacts at their helm?’
He paused so I could consider the paucity of options available to Tomoe’s dad.
‘Chōshi understood this well enough but he also had other thoughts in his mind. At this point, he showed there may have been a part of him worthy of redemption. He decided to blackmail Onishi instead.’
I was familiar enough with Takata not to be surprised by his admiration for the pragmatic approach. But I thought even he might struggle to define it as a balance to Mr Chōshi’s sins.
‘I don’t quite see how that makes him a more worthy character?’
‘Part of the deal would have involved buying out Chōshi-san’s contract.’
The revelation caught me off-guard. I wasn’t sure how it made me feel. It did nothing to make up for his betrayal. It may even have been out of guilt – a selfish act to assuage his shame. It certainly didn’t make me feel any sadness for his death.
But thoughts of him weren’t uppermost in my mind. What gripped me was the realisation that had things not gone so horribly wrong, Tomoe might still have been with me. Free from her binds rather than dead.
‘What happened?’
‘He never had a chance,’ said Takata bluntly. ‘He was a nobody up against forces far too big. He acted as though it was about the money and the release of his daughter, and in some ways it was. But he’d been working on this for years and at its root was his need for revenge. At first that was for being forced into the hands of moneylenders and ruined. Then came the need to avenge his daughter and hit back at those who had made him hate what he saw in the mirror every day. We knew he’d betray any agreement once he had what he claimed to want.’
‘We?’
I suppose it was obvious, but my suspicions had been swinging wildly for a month. Once I knew Takata didn’t want me dead I’d somehow separated him from everything else.
‘You look surprised?’ he said. ‘You knew we were involved. We were employed to minimise protests and scandals. From that point on, our interests were aligned to Onishi’s and the plant’s.’
‘And Tomoe’s father?’
‘We met – Onishi, he and I. He gave us the report and it – the original and a copy – was burnt. I think your friend Sakura may have told you this already?’
I ignored the jibe.
‘And then?’
‘And then his house and office were searched for the other copies we knew he’d withheld. When nothing was found a further meeting was convened. In the course of this, he was persuaded to reveal another copy hidden in a security box.’
I wondered at the ‘persuasion’ required to make a man give up the fruits of over ten years’ planned revenge.
‘While this was going on a visit was paid to his lawyers. They decided it would be appropriate to return the copy he had placed in their care for release in the event of his premature death. At this point it appeared that all copies had been retrieved and destroyed. It was around then Chōshi decided to take his life.’
A very assisted suicide.
‘So why Tomoe? If all the evidence had been destroyed, it wouldn’t have mattered what she found out – she’d never have been able to prove a thing.’
‘People tend to become sensitive when matters are this serious. Even if there isn’t proof, they don’t appreciate someone digging about.’
‘Does that include you?’
He ignored the question.
‘But the reason Onishi set the Ginzo-kai after her was because she did have proof.’
‘What do you mean? I thought you said all the files were destroyed?’
‘We thought they were. But young Chōshi-san started asking questions that suggested she had knowledge of their content. That strongly implied they were not. That put Onishi in a panic and he’s not the kind of man you want to have panicking over you.’
Before I could point out he was doing exactly that, Takata wrapped things up.
‘You’re aware of how tragically events unfolded from there.’
He actually looked quite sad as he said it but something wasn’t right.
‘But you were on his side. And Tomoe came to see you. It seems very convenient that the Ginzo-kai started acting for Onishi at that point instead of you.’
‘I see I still don’t have your confidence. It’s not unwise to view our world with an element of distrust – in fact it’s a trait that should stand you in good stead. Chōshi-san was similarly doubtful but for her it had less positive results.’
The smile had faded from his lips.
‘We spoke a second time, a few weeks after the first. By then certain things had changed. I tried to convince her that both she and the report would be safer if it were left in my care. But in the circumstances it was difficult to convince her of my sincerity. She declined to pass it to me and I didn’t get the opportunity to persuade her again.’
‘You’d destroyed all the other copies and killed her father. I’m not convinced you’d have won her over however many meetings you had.’
‘The police reports are quite clear – Chōshi took his own life. Even if that weren’t the case, his actions prior to his death amounted to the same thing. When you cross from normal life into the world of the yakuza, you choose to live and die by our rules.’
I wondered how that worked for people forced into it.
‘Your girlfriend understood that. I think you’re aware of it too.’
Clearly there were no dispensations.
‘As for the other reports, they were destroyed to prevent them coming out in a manner that would have done us harm. At the time it was expedient – relationships that are no longer cordial were still functioning then. But when another copy became available – believe me, with things as they’d become I would have ensured it didn’t come to any harm.’
‘Why? Surely you needed them all destroyed? You said it yourself – your interests were aligned with theirs.’
‘Our interests were aligned but things change. Life leads us down unexpected paths.’
He studied me a moment, trying to decide whether to break his information on a need-to-know rule. I was suddenly unsure I still wanted to know more. I’d half killed myself in search of answers but all they had brought me was pain. I was worried what else I might hear. What other ways my memories of Tomoe could be spoiled.
The thought of her pulled me together. Her death couldn’t be left unavenged.
‘Onishi and I go back a long way,’ Takata started, having apparently decided to break his cardinal rule. ‘We met when he was a young, up-and-coming politician and I was a junior in the yakuza ranks. We found we worked well together. I provided assistance in turning out his vote; he opened doors for me in return. I then fed him a cut from the opportunities these created and so it went on. A virtuous circle, or perhaps a profitable one if the choice of words doesn’t seem apt.
‘But as we made our way up our poles we inevitably saw one another less. Open socialising between figures in our arenas is frowned upon and would have been detrimental to us both. As the literal distance widened we could have drifted metaphorically too. But we were fortunate to have Kōda-san and through him our relationship remained strong.
‘Unfortunately he passed away and things changed. Men who float effortlessly between the over- and underworlds are rare. Perhaps a worthy successor will emerge soon but we lacked for one then. Rather than agreeing to a temporary alternative, Onishi decided it was a role he could absorb. That was decades of power corrupting good sense. It made him forget we live in a world of specialities, that the kuromaku is a position only men born to it can fill.
‘I tried to make the point but Onishi suspected me of manipulation. As time went on, he became more twisted by power-lust. He turned his back on decades of cooperation and started playing us off against the Ginzo-kai.
‘It came to a head in a meeting between us, not long after I first met Chōshi-san – I think you may have heard about it already. Now he’s trying to undermine me and have me deposed. That would strengthen his position with the Ginzo-kai and give him far greater influence over us.’
‘How can he undermine you? Like you said, you operate in different worlds.’
‘We work in different realms in the same world,’ he corrected.
‘The floating world?’
‘We operate in its shadows. Onishi is the storm cloud that blocks out the sun.’
His face darkened as though to make the point.
‘As you can attest, we hold influence with sections of the police but there others who give their allegiance to the Ginzo-kai or to him. We started facing problems from them. At the same time, the Ginzo-kai became increasingly aggressive and started to expand into our territory. On top of that a whispering campaign about me was initiated.’
I had an idea what that was about but I felt awkward acknowledging it and gave him a quizzical look.
‘We sometimes work with the police. We’ll help them bust us for something insignificant and perhaps have someone do a bit of time. It gives them face and keeps the public off their backs – the other yakuza do the same. But recently there have been acknowledgements of my support where I haven’t helped, in matters that have been detrimental to the yakuza. I don’t need to tell you that the future for an informer isn’t very bright.’
He said the last part in his usual easy manner, as though he was discussing a recently developed flaw in his golf swing.
‘You don’t seem very worried,’ I said. ‘Isn’t this a major problem for you?’
‘I suppose so, but I’ve been in the business a long time – I don’t intend to be so easily removed. It’s been more frustrating than anything. As I mentioned previously, I was hoping to focus on more constructive aims.’
His mind seemed to wander to his programme for generational change. I was more concerned about what was happening now.
‘What are you going to do?’
‘They’re panicking and that will lead to opportunities. What’s more important are your next steps.’
‘I don’t know what they are,’ I said, my anxiety building. ‘I appreciate your faith, but I’m not sure you’re on the right path if you’re expecting the answers from me.’
‘Rest up and get your head back together – the answers will come. You’ve done all right so far.’
‘That was different.’
‘It was the same. One thing though – you can’t go back to your place and you shouldn’t go to Chōshi-san’s. They’ll be watching them both.’
‘Weren’t they before?’
‘We made sure our presence was felt. That made them more circumspect, along with the rumours you were MI6.’
It didn’t take much guessing as to their source.
‘The gloves are off now though. You’ll need to go to a safe house.’
It no longer seemed so bad. I thought of somewhere in the countryside or one of Tokyo’s nicer spots.
‘We’ve got a place you can go to in Ikebukuro.’
‘Ikebukuro?’
Ikebukuro was a few stops north of Shinjuku. It was as dirty and noisy and just as much hassle but it lacked the compensatory buzz. It also didn’t seem particularly safe.
‘Aren’t there a lot of yakuza in Ikebukuro?’
‘There are. And not a single one will have a clue who you are. Forgive my bluntness – I recognise your strong, distinct features,’ he said gallantly. ‘However, many in our industry have had little to no interaction with Europeans. To them you all look quite the same. It will be less dangerous for you to be mixed in with other foreigners than secreted away somewhere you’d stick out like a sore thumb.’
It made sense but I could think of preferable alternatives nonetheless.
‘In any case, every time I’ve told you to rest you’ve ended up criss-crossing the city like a bloodhound that’s picked up a scent. I think it’s better to leave you the option to act on your instincts. If we stick you up a mountain there’s not going to be much you can do.’
He called out.
‘Matsumoto.’
The name rang a bell. The door opened and I recognised my greeter from earlier, now less distinguishable for having cropped his hair from the luxuriant style Kurotaki had abused.
‘Thank you, Clarence-san – I look forward to seeing you again soon.’
I realised I was being sent on my way. I got to my feet.
‘Of course,’ I bowed. ‘I hope I’ll be able to help.’
With that I was shuffled out of the room and the temple. Despite the odds, free to die another day.