Evil and the Mask Page 9

  I went and bought a can of coffee from the vending machine out front. A group of children was playing in the park, their mothers watching. The intensity of their happiness was too much for me. The sun was just about to set behind the apartment buildings. A motorbike delivering evening papers stopped nearby, a truck loaded with boxes swept past, an elderly man out jogging ran by me.

  I put my hand in the pocket of my jeans and sipped my coffee, wondering what would happen to me. I thought about that, unable to marshal my thoughts. How would a life like mine turn out? What meaning would my existence have in this world? But even if my new life was full of despair, I reflected quietly, my real life had ended when I leapt to my death several years ago. I made my way slowly back to my room.

  On the screen Kaori was moving. Looking down, she was opening the door of the convenience store, holding her plastic bag and purse in her left hand and putting the receipt away with her right. I thought again how typical it was for her to store her receipt carefully. She was still moving. I was smiling.

  “THERE’S A MAN who often comes to Ms. Kaori’s club. He might be a bit of a problem. A con man. It looks like he’s after her bank account, which has about thirty million yen in it. The Kuki family gave it to her as her share of the inheritance after Shozo Kuki was declared missing, presumed dead, but it appears that she’s just left it there, never even touched it.”

  The detective handed me a single photo. It showed a man in a suit with longish hair and narrow eyes.

  “He calls himself Takayuki Yajima, but his real name is Masayuki Nishida. He’s thirty-four, and of course he’s single.”

  “You mean this is the guy who was checking up on Kaori?”

  “No, that was someone else. I’m still not sure who. My guess is that it’s some kind of shadowy company, the kind that avoids publicity. I don’t know why an outfit like that would be investigating Ms. Kaori, but if I look into her past I might find the reason.”

  “No, don’t do that yet. For the time being I just want to wait and see what happens.”

  Sitting next to the detective was his assistant, Azusa Konishi, who had started working at Je le Répète and become Kaori’s friend. She was studying me with interest.

  “But what puzzles me more than why he’s doing it is how he knew about Kaori’s bank balance in the first place.”

  “Did you know that one of the clerks at the Kuki family’s law firm was accused of embezzlement?”

  “Yeah.”

  “The lawyer filed a complaint against him, the police issued an arrest warrant and he killed himself in Wakayama. But at university he was in the same year as Yajima, and apparently they were friends.”

  “You mean it’s connected to the Kukis?”

  “Yes. Fraudsters like Yajima gather information from a wide variety of sources. Most likely he heard that Ms. Kaori had a large sum of money in the bank from this ex-employee.”

  “Is it possible that other people could have the same information?”

  “I don’t think so. Con men usually keep their information pretty close to their chest, and it was leaked to him privately in the first place, by a friend.”

  I leaned back on the sofa and took another mouthful of lukewarm coffee. The hotel windows were covered with raindrops. The TV had been left on, and a reporter was running somewhere with a microphone in hand. There had been another series of explosions. I could tell that Konishi was eager to say something, but was holding back out of politeness. With her dyed brown curls, her shorts and the white, long-sleeved T-shirt that accentuated her breasts, she was one of those striking women you see all over the place.

  “Ms. Kaori,” she began, her voice lower than I expected. “My impression is that she’s very good-natured. She’s cheerful and considerate, so she’s popular with customers, but I still get the feeling that she’s putting it on. Of course it’s a service industry, so everyone fakes it to some extent, but it seems to me that she always has to force herself to be cheerful. Even her thoughtfulness is kind of painful to watch. She’s pretty but, how can I put it, it’s like she’s afraid of living.”

  She looked at me searchingly.

  “It looks like she’s got a bit of a soft spot for this guy Yajima. She still thinks of him as a customer, but I don’t know how things will pan out. Even if she finds out he’s a con man, she might end up feeling sorry for him. She’s got that side to her. Some women let themselves be fooled, even knowing the guy is a cheat. With his previous victims, Yajima was quite capable of continuing to work on them even after he was exposed, telling them that he needed the money, this time he really meant it. I can’t say for sure that would happen with Kaori, but he’s a nuisance.”

  She straightened up.

  “I think she brings out the worst in people. It’s like the part of her that’s afraid, the part of her that’s insecure, can’t help accepting other people’s weaknesses. It worries me to see that.”

  The man turned to look at her and she fell silent.

  “It’s okay. Please say anything that’s on your mind. It’ll be useful.”

  The detective took up the conversation.

  “As well as that, Yajima’s into drugs. It sounds like he makes the women take them as well, whether they want to or not, sometimes even injecting them by force. When you see a beautiful woman and think, what on earth’s she doing with a guy like that, nine times out of ten there are drugs involved. It goes without saying.”

  “He injects them?”

  He looked at me strangely for a second.

  “So I hear. I got that from a woman he mistreated before.”

  “I see.”

  I picked up the photo of the man calling himself Yajima and stared at it again. I didn’t feel the least bit disturbed, and my heart rate didn’t alter. I was aware of the stillness in the room and I thought I could hear faint noises somewhere in the distance. When I glanced at the clock, it was almost time for Azusa to go to work.

  “What should we do?” the detective asked.

  I stubbed out my cigarette.

  “Look for any obvious patterns in this guy’s behavior. His regular hangouts, days and times he goes there. And then after a week I want you to stop watching him. One thing I need to ask you, though. How far are you prepared to go?”

  The man’s expression didn’t change.

  “As far as it takes.”

  “Okay. But it would still definitely be better if you stopped watching him. Ms. Konishi, for the time being, if he comes to the club, please do your best to keep him away from her. Right, I’ll be waiting for a report a week from today.”

  “Will do.”

  The rain was still beating against the hotel windows. I’d planned to walk part of the way home but decided against it.

  RUNNING MY HAND along the wall, I climbed the stairs of the dingy tower block. Sand and dirt clung to the soles of my shoes and every step made a rough, gritty sound. The narrow landings were cluttered with cardboard boxes blocking the way. I couldn’t tell what was inside them. When I opened the heavy, black door, I was hit by a blast of loud music. The bar was overflowing with people, more foreigners than Japanese.

  It held a counter, too long for the room, and tables with crude chairs. One corner was closed off with a heavy green curtain. I passed a laughing, shouting group of Chinese, stepped over the outstretched legs of some Arabs engrossed in serious conversation. The club was white with cigarette smoke, perhaps because the ventilation system wasn’t up to it. A dark-skinned woman began kissing a long-haired guy. A group of black men in the back were watching them and arguing about something. I sat at the bar and ordered a gin and tonic. A Japanese woman with tightly braided hair and wearing a tank top was looking at my black suit with raised eyebrows.

  As I looked around my vision lost its focus. All the people standing in their dark clothes suddenly appeared as vertical lines, and beyond them I noticed a young woman dressed in green. She was asleep, face down on the table. My eyesight wavered again, and the tal
l black lines of the men and the green of the woman turned faintly red. I seemed to be on the verge of remembering something, but it wouldn’t come. Then a black man moved in front of me and the vision ended abruptly. He tried to lift the woman, his thick, bare arms glistening with sweat under the powerful lights. Another Japanese girl who was with her spoke to him in English. The woman woke up and cried out, trying to get away. Her eyes were big, her short skirt hiked up. I realized that I’d been staring at her face for ages. The people around were laughing, and so was the man as he tried to soothe her.

  Yajima was at the end of the counter. I finished my drink and stood up, pretending I was going to the toilet. He was really drunk, accusing the Arab behind the bar of something. The bartender didn’t argue, just spread his arms and smiled. I approached and quietly took the seat next to him. He glanced at me briefly, lost the thread of what he was saying and fell silent. I ordered another gin and tonic and lit a cigarette.

  “You’re Takayuki Yajima, aren’t you?”

  Sluggishly, he turned his face towards me.

  “I’d like a word with you.”

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  People were shouting to make themselves heard over the music. Three slim young Japanese women who I hadn’t noticed before were sitting at the table at the back with the group of blacks. Smiling ambivalently, they were lounging against the men, who kept giving them long kisses and touching their bodies with thick fingers as though they were toys.

  “If you need a name, call me Sato. Suzuki would do just as well.”

  “What do you want?”

  The music grew even more intense.

  “It’s about Kaori Kuki. If we work together there’s way more than thirty million in it for us.”

  “How do you know about her?”

  “From Moriyama, who worked in the Kukis’ lawyer’s office and killed himself. He and I were friends. Plus I’ve got a bone to pick with the Kukis. We can get hundreds of millions from her. You interested?”

  “I’m listening.”

  The women with the black men all laughed at once.

  “Before that, how far have you got?”

  He drained what was left of his whiskey and asked for a beer. His eyes flicked towards me.

  “It’s a straight-forward con. If I can get her hooked, that thirty million will be a piece of cake.”

  “I see. That’s good.”

  He smirked slightly. He was wearing a plain white shirt and a cream jacket.

  “But is it safe? If you get caught with drugs on you it’ll be all over.”

  “No problem. I’ve never been arrested, so I’ll be treated as a first offender. First-time users don’t go to prison, they get put on probation. They’d soon let me off, so I could pick up where I left off. I’m the sort of guy, if I get interrupted in the middle I get even more determined.”

  “Even though she’s just an adopted daughter, she’s still a Kuki. So what’s your plan after that?”

  “Plan?”

  He laughed drunkenly.

  “Who cares? It’s the danger that makes it exciting.”

  His voice suddenly grew louder, but I was careful not to change my expression. From up close, his eyes were hollow, his cheeks sunken.

  “I need cash. I’ve got debts coming out my ears. But more than that, that girl Kaori, she’s a looker, eh?”

  “Yeah.”

  I sniggered coarsely, and his voice went up another notch.

  “That’s right. And she’s good-natured and naïve. Women like that really turn me on.”

  He laughed again.

  “I’ll keep feeding her drugs till she sinks right to the depths of lust and corruption. Do you know how attractive a bitch is when she’s abandoned all goodness and kindness and morality, just begging for a fix? It’s the most beautiful thing in the world.”

  His rough skin caught the light and seemed to glow with vitality.

  “Clinging to you as she takes off her clothes, weeping hysterically, crying give me some please, give me a fix. Naked, pleading, desperate, I’ll do anything, as many men as you like, do whatever you want to me. At that moment a woman shines from inside. It’s the truth. I swear it.”

  The black men had started sliding their fingers between the women’s legs. The girls were still smiling, but they were getting more and more embarrassed, tugging weakly at their skirts to try to prevent anyone from seeing what was happening. They lowered their voices but all the other customers were staring. The lights continued to spotlight them through the white cigarette haze. The men’s hands grew even bolder, and their laughter drowned out the women’s feeble resistance.

  “OK, tell me about your plan,” said Yajima, giving me a twisted grin. “I could use a bit of extra cash too.”

  “At the Kukis’ estate there’s a document, a single sheet.”

  Yajima pushed his face closer to mine.

  “I want you to ask Kaori to get hold of that paper. If you can, I’ll buy it for fifty million yen. How about it?”

  “But are you reliable? How do I know I can trust you?”

  “I’ll pay you half up front. We make the transfer in a crowded bar. As soon as I get it, I give you the other half. I’m not after money. It doesn’t interest me, and I’ve got a personal vendetta against the Kuki family.”

  “Is that so?”

  Yajima lit a cigarette and raised his eyes lazily to the ceiling.

  “What’s the document?”

  “It’s better if you don’t know. It’s safer that way.”

  “I told you I don’t care about safety, didn’t I? Nothing can stop me.”

  He laughed.

  “Fine. You don’t have to tell me. Even our world has its rules. I like you, you’re funny. You’ve got a dishonest face, same as me.”

  The black men vanished behind the heavy curtain at the rear, taking the blushing women with them. A drunk couple at a nearby table, perhaps inspired by them, draped their arms around each other’s necks and started tongue-kissing.

  “Can we meet here at the same time next week? This is big business. I’d like you to move slowly on Kaori.”

  “I get it. I’m a pro.”

  “Here’s a token of my appreciation.”

  Under the counter I handed him a crumpled cigarette packet. A small plastic bag filled with white powder rustled inside.

  “This is top quality stuff, completely different from what you get around here. It’s really pure.”

  “You’re pretty smooth, aren’t you?”

  Yajima opened the packet a crack, keeping it out of sight. After checking the contents, he put it in the inside pocket of his jacket.

  “That’s really wicked shit,” I said, “so to start with you should only take about half a normal dose. It’s bloody dangerous if you get it wrong. It’ll be hard to get the job done if you’re dead.”

  I laughed and so did he.

  “Yeah, it’s that good? Could you get me some more?”

  “I will next week,” I said as I got up to leave.

  Drug Addiction Spreading

  Man Found Dead on Shinjuku Street

  Late last night the body of a man was discovered by a police patrol in a parked car on a street in Shinjuku.

  The victim appeared to be in his mid-thirties, and based on the fact that syringes were found in his vehicle, the cause of death is believed to be a drug overdose. The police are trying to learn the man’s identity and who supplied him with the narcotics. Since the beginning of this month there have been more than thirty drug-related deaths in the city, and the police are strengthening their countermeasures.

  Drug Overdose Turns Into Murder Inquiry

  Traces of cyanide have been detected in the powder believed to have been used by the man found dead in a car on the third of this month. Based on syringes found in the vehicle and scars on the victim’s arms, the cause of death initially appeared to be a drug overdose, but police are now treating it as a possible murder or suicide.

&nbs
p; They have reported that the man’s identity is still unknown. Even the acquaintance from whom he borrowed the car claims not to have known his real name.

  It was a minor incident, and articles appeared once or twice in a few newspapers, buried on the inside pages, but after that the information dried up. I thought that was the mark of a true con artist—even in death they couldn’t figure out who he was. In front of me the detective was drinking his coffee. For some reason the surroundings seemed to stand out sharply, as if the air was crystal clear. I contemplated that unusual sight for a while.

  “This man is definitely Takayuki Yajima,” said the detective, “but I don’t know yet if it was suicide or murder.”

  It was like he was reading from a script, and I grinned slightly. He continued.

  “We can assume that it will be impossible for the police to track down the culprit. They don’t know Yajima’s true identity, and the best they’ll be able to do is look for people who had a grudge against him. Then they’ll try to find out his normal suppliers, and that will be as far as they can go.”

  “I think so too. But please keep watching Kaori.”

  My eyesight was still unnaturally sharp. I could clearly see the dust on the table, the seams of the sofa he was sitting on.

  “This man’s death is extremely fortunate for Ms. Kaori,” he said, looking at me.

  “It is, isn’t it? Extremely fortunate.”

  I wondered why it was so quiet and glanced at the clock. It was already after two in the afternoon. The movements of the second hand were crisp and precise.

  “Here are some photos and video of Ms. Kaori from last week, in a bar she went to with Azusa Konishi. She’s managed to make friends with her quite quickly.”