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Our next three stops weren't nearly as fruitful.
Apartments once belonging to the other names on Wanda's list were now either vacant or filled with new tenants. And the neighbors were far from helpful. They didn't have much to share with Sanitoro, and they had nothing to share with me, besides the occasional dirty look.
Nobody had anything bad to say about the young people in question. A few busybodies pointed us in the direction of the former tenants' employers at a sushi bar, a dry cleaner, and a bicycle repair shop. That's something these kids all had in common with Daichi Takahashi: they were gainfully employed. But their employers hadn't seen them in days, and no speculation was made as to their current whereabouts.
"Thanks for your help," I said after the employers politely let us know they had work to do and their time was precious—glaring at me and bowing to Sanitoro until we left the premises.
Out of the four names Wanda had given us, only Daichi was still in the land of the free, as far as I could tell. The other three must have already been taken by the Blackshirts. No evidence of this, of course. The Feds wouldn't be dumb enough to snatch kids in plain sight. It was just the way they liked it: no witnesses. But Junior's followers were gone, as he'd said in that video, and nobody seemed to know how or why they'd disappeared.
Since Takahashi appeared to be the last of Junior's known associates on the Blackshirts' to-abduct list, Sanitoro and I located the dock where he was working and kept him in sight. He spent most of the afternoon hauling crates with a couple guys close to his age, their faces slick with sweat. Backbreaking work, if you could get it. Daichi would return home on foot at sundown, and we'd follow him from a distance.
Until then, we stayed put.
"The only game in town," I muttered, doing what I could to get comfortable in my seat. We had a few hours ahead of us. Plenty of time to cramp up, if I wasn't careful.
"Perhaps they do not want him," Sanitoro offered, staring out the windshield like a statue.
If so, we were wasting our time. Always a possibility in a case like this.
Why hadn't Daichi been taken along with the others? What made him different? He worked all day and took online classes at night to continue his education. So did the other three we'd checked on. He took care of his grandmother; his parents weren't in the picture. They'd passed away. According to nosy neighbors of the other three Chimera-followers, those kids had also cared for their aging relatives.
Little Tokyo had spawned a different breed of anarchist. Between work and school, it's a wonder these young folks had found the time to sling Molotov cocktails at anybody. Maybe it fulfilled their P.E. requirement. They weren't your average lazy, long-haired protestors, bucking the establishment with every fiber of their privileged being. These kids had plenty to lose.
"Yoshiro's other friends were not taken from their work," Sanitoro said. "Their employers would have told us, if such were the case."
Wasn't like the Feds to change up their mode of operation, not when it had worked out so well for them thus far. But they were nothing if not unpredictable. The best course of action was to keep a vigilant eye on Takahashi.
"What I don't get," I said, "is how Blackshirts can waltz right into Little Tokyo and kidnap your people, and the Japanese government does squat about it. Do they even know what's going on over here? Or are they more concerned with their own dwindling shores?" Eight thousand kilometers away.
Sanitoro was silent a few moments before he answered, "The emperor is aware."
"And?"
"Your government has made a convincing case for the detainment and questioning of these young...provocateurs." He paused. "Few of the Home Islands remain under Japanese control. The emperor is grateful to the Unified States for welcoming our refugees and providing them with communities where they can live without fear of the Eastern Conglomerate's warmongering."
"He doesn't want to rock the boat, in other words. And in the process, the Blackshirts get carte blanche to repeat past mistakes?"
"For the benefit of the majority—the people of Little Tokyo who are grateful to be here, those who appreciate our sovereignty on United World soil."
"Sovereignty," I muttered. "Except when it comes to free speech. I hear it was real popular, back in the day."
Sanitoro shook his head. "Yoshiro and his friends are young and foolish. Shortsighted. All of them were born here, but they hear stories about what it was like to live in Japan during our centuries of glory. That is what they want for our people."
"Can you blame them? Maybe they should have joined up with Invisible Okada and his crew. They're plotting World War III, last I heard. Planning to take your precious islands back from the EC by force."
Sanitoro cursed under his breath in Japanese. "Our youth may dream of seeing the Home Islands again as they once were, but all the young people know is what we have here. Little Tokyo is their primary focus. While they may not know how to protest appropriately, some of their arguments are valid."
"They're tired of being confined to their side of the border." They wanted to stretch their wings.
"Among other things." Another pause, like the calm before a squall. "They despise the free reign your government has given the Russian Devil. The way non-Anglo ethnic groups have been pushed out of positions of power in your city. How Ivan controls the police."
"Most of them," I acknowledged. The Feds were in bed with Ivan the Terrible to scavenge whatever EC war surplus he could nab for them on the international black market. In return, he got to rule the city.
I couldn't argue with the facts.
"So you can see how our youth have become disenchanted by the...freedoms promised by your government. And now, adding to this climate of distrust, the Blackshirts round them up and take them out into the Wastes. No one hears from them again. No one asks questions, not in public. No one wants to be singled out."
I nodded toward the bustling street outside. Foot traffic. Bicycles. Everyone with eyes kept to themselves. "Yet everything here appears to be business as usual."
"On the surface, perhaps. But roots of bitterness run deep, Madison. And if this situation does not improve, I am afraid what will become of Little Tokyo."