Back at headquarters, Hiroshi stopped by his office and bolstered himself with two double espressos before heading down to the interrogation rooms. He felt the run in his legs, and Tim’s punch had caught more of his head than he realized at the time. He thought about putting some ice on it. The headache was already starting.
Takamatsu and Ishii were waiting outside the rooms. Instead of flipping his lighter, as usual, Takamatsu was shaking the wrist Tim Branson bent. Ishii stood to the side as if they had done nothing more than sit in office chairs all morning.
“Go put some ice on it,” Hiroshi told Takamatsu, though he didn’t do that for his own head.
Takamatsu shook off his suggestion. “Ishii and I will watch his body language. Give us a summary of what he says after you’re done.”
“Ishii doesn’t need a summary. Only you,” Hiroshi reminded him.
“Oh, yeah, I forgot, we’re internationalizing.” Takamatsu headed to the observation room with Ishii, bending his wrist up and down.
Hiroshi entered the interrogation room and sat down across from Tim. He was getting really tired of this case, tracking two girls and their father with nothing to show, waiting for access to the Nine Dragons’ files, getting punched in the head, and missing meals. He was starving. The room was overheated. Tim was sweating in his hooded sweatshirt and wool overshirt. Hiroshi took off his jacket.
“Was all that necessary?” Hiroshi stared at him.
Tim sighed. “I thought you were someone else.”
Hiroshi waved for the camera to be turned on.
Tim ran the handcuffs back and forth through the eye bolt anchor in the table. “Are these necessary?”
“If you want me to bring in my colleague whose wrist you bent, he’ll show you why they’re necessary. You caught my head too.”
Tim nodded apologetically. “My wife sent people to rough me up. Twice. They did a very good job. I thought you were the third round.”
“It seems like you know how to fight.”
“I do aikido.”
“For self-defense?”
“That and it helped me quit the booze.”
“Hitting a police officer—actually three officers—is a serious offense.”
“You didn’t identify yourself.”
“There wasn’t time.”
Tim was sweating heavily. “Could you open a window or unzip this sweatshirt or something?”
The room was stifling. Hiroshi waved for the policewoman at the door to undo the cuffs so he could pull off his sweatshirt. She undid them, remaining poised in case Tim tried something.
He pulled off his wool overshirt and sweatshirt, wiped his face, and crumpled them on the table in front of him. The policewoman slid his cuffs back through the eyebolt in the table. His T-shirt was soaked with sweat.
Hiroshi asked for a bottle of tea. He pulled out his cellphone and scrolled through the information Akiko sent him. “Stalking, abduction, assault, disrupting a school zone, and mail fraud. Was that all in one day?”
“The mail fraud was a letter to my daughters. Assault was self-defense. It was my wife who abducted the kids. She dragged them back here from America and denied me custody.”
“When was that?”
“Five years ago. There’s a warrant out for her in Maryland, but it’s not recognized in Japan.”
“What’s her name. I’ll check on it.”
“Saori Kano. Please check on her, and my daughters. Now, I’m just waiting for them to grow up. Once they turn eighteen, I can contact them without being arrested. I post a lot on social media, hoping they’ll see it. They can find me if they want to.”
“And while you wait, what are you doing for work?”
“They give me temporary visas, but that doesn’t allow me to work. A lot of help that is.”
“You’re independently wealthy?”
“I work at a bookstore, teach English, do some modeling, which is why I came over here in the first place.”
Tim had a rugged face with a strong jaw and a two-day beard. The kind of foreign man in countless ads. With just a T-shirt on, Hiroshi could tell he worked out. Probably had nothing much else to do.
“A car registered to you was at the scene of a crime. It was connected to the abduction of two girls. You want to tell me about that?”
Tim sighed. “I also register cars in my name. They’re rented out short-term to foreigners in Japan.”
“You own the cars?”
“They’re just registered in my name.”
“Looks like one of your cars is going to land you in jail. And this won’t be any short-term thing.”
“The car’s used by whoever makes the reservation. Usually from abroad. Saves time with Japanese paperwork. You can see it on the website, Friendly Japan.”
“My assistant found that. But we couldn’t find a name and address for the owner.”
“His name is John Smith.”
Hiroshi stared at him. “John Smith? You expect me to believe that?”
“It really is his name. I don’t know his address.”
“So, you know nothing about the car or its whereabouts?”
“Like I said, all the rentals go through the site. I maintain the cars, do airport pick-ups, hand them the keys, that’s it.”
Takamatsu had taught him to back off when one direction wasn’t working and return to it later. “Why did your wife send someone to work you over?”
Tim sighed and shook his head. “I wanted custody of the kids, or at least visitation rights. I got a lawyer, she got several lawyers, and they went at it. But in Japan, it doesn’t matter what the wife did, they award custody to the mother. The husband, especially if he’s a foreigner, is always wrong. Gaijin is a word I know well.”
“Where is your wife from?”
A young guard brought in a bottle of tea for Tim. She set it down in front of him and stepped back to the door. Tim bowed thanks, cranked open the top, and leaned over to drink clumsily, the cuffs rattling. Tea spilled. Hiroshi didn’t try to help.
“My wife’s family is from all over. At least they have houses all over, Karuizawa, Hakone, and two apartments in Tokyo. I didn’t know she was rich until we got married.”
“With that kind of money, they usually don’t resort to violence.”
“They don’t need to. My wife’s family sent people twice, though. I can’t imagine what whoppers she told them bout me. I was in the hospital for two weeks after the second attack, and they put it on my record. That’s not against the law? That’s not admissible in court?”
“How do you know it was her family?”
“They told me.” Tim shook his head. “And she’s the one who cheated on me. Right after my daughter was born. And not just once. I thought we’d work it out. I wanted to. She was such a beauty. In the end, she did what her family told her to do—lie to the judge.”
“All of that was presented in evidence?”
“Of course. I refiled with a new lawyer and got help from a group of other parents in the same situation. Then I started helping others.”
“Do you know Patrick Walsh?” Hiroshi held up a photo of him on his cellphone.
Tim looked away.
“He’s driving your car… or wait a minute, maybe it was you who abducted the girls?” Hiroshi let that sit. “Look, we need to find the girls. You need to help us. Now.”
Tim leaned back in his chair. “I’m working shit jobs, waiting for my daughters to reach the age of majority so I can contact them without violating Japanese law. Why not wait in jail?”
“You want me to tell you why? You’ll be fighting every day in there. There’s no special American section with comforts from home. You’ll be a sparring partner for everyone in there.”
Someone knocked on the door and Hiroshi realized he was leaning halfway over the table. Sugamo was waving Hiroshi out to the hall. Hiroshi let the camera roll and walked out of the room.
“What did you find in Tim’s apartment?” Hiroshi asked.
Sugamo shook his head. “There was nothing there. Photos of his daughters, his CV, a computer, some aikido stuff, luggage, clothes like he has on. Two tatami rooms and a small kitchen. Didn’t take us long to find nothing.”
“Is someone working on his cellphone?”
“They’re trying.”
Hiroshi went back into the interrogation room. His head was aching. He should have put ice on it. He sat down and stared at Tim. This was going nowhere and it was starting to piss him off even worse.
Tim shook his head. He was still sweating.
“So tell me where you met Patrick Walsh. Did you help him get a car, or something more?”
Tim took another sip of tea, looked at the wall, and resigned himself. “Through the support group. Some of them had some crazy ass shit with their wives and wives’ families. We pool our knowledge, help each other out.”
“Did you see the two girls? They could be in danger.”
Tim looked up at the mirrored glass of the observation room and down at his cuffs. “They’re not in danger. They’re with their father.”
“You saw them?”
“Briefly.”
“So, you know where they are?”
“I told you, no.”
“Where are the safe houses for this network?”
“There’s nothing like that.”
“You gave him the car and he drove off with the girls. That’s it?”
“Yeah, that’s it.” Tim looked at Hiroshi. “Japanese think their country is so special that it doesn’t have to follow the laws all other developed countries follow. So, it’s really Japan that’s breaking international law, not me.”
“Unfortunately, aiding and abetting an abduction, fighting with police, and lying during an investigation are all crimes in every country.”
Tim yanked on the cuffs. “Japanese always want to say they’re unique, but that’s not an explanation, it’s an excuse for all kinds of bullshit.”
Hiroshi smacked the table. “You think Americans don’t spout off about how unique they are? You think Americans are open-minded about foreigners?” Hiroshi leaned forward and looked into Tim’s eyes. “Why did Patrick come back?”
“He wanted to see his daughters. That shouldn’t be a crime.”
“How much did he pay you?”
“Nothing. He donated to the group’s legal fund.”
“Didn’t you ask him about his money?”
“To me, he’s just another father trying to take care of his kids.”
“His trouble is working with the wrong people.”
“So, you want him for his kids or for his work?”
“Both.” Hiroshi tapped the table with his fist. “So, help us on the kids.”
“He’d be treated unfairly in the courts here.”
“You’re not getting it. The girls are in more danger with him.”
Tim looked away. “I want to see a lawyer. There’s one in the father’s support group who handles this.”
Hiroshi pulled out his cellphone. “Tell me where he took the girls and I’ll call the lawyer right now.”
The door opened and Ishii ducked her head in. “We need to go,” she said.
Hiroshi waved for the recording to be turned off and leaned his face close to Tim’s. “You’re in some seriously deep shit, so you better start helping us, or you’re going to get in a lot deeper. Keep up that fucking attitude with me and you’ll never see your daughters ever again. I’ll make sure of that. You got it? Anything happens to those girls, it’s on you.”
Tim set his jaw and stared at the one-way glass to the observation room reflecting a blurred image of him and his situation.