Yoshiko leaned forward on the sofa and gazed at him, as if speaking to a child. He in turn scrutinized her more closely. She had a rather blank face, a bit like a badger and with moles under the eyes to match, and her plump lips seemed to emanate a confidence in her continuing ability to maintain her popularity with men.
“Come on Kita, cut the scary talk,” Yashiro chimed in with a laugh, wiping a fine sweat from his forehead. “You’re making it sound like this company’s giving you a really hard time. Leave the suicide to Zombie here. You can rely on her. She can commit suicide and still stay alive, after all.”
“That’s right. I’m immortal.”
Everyone laughed. Then, the mirth still hovering at the corners of his mouth, Kita asked, “So if you do commit suicide, is there an insurance payout?”
“It’s all here in detail in the Contract Guide. The fundamental rule is, if the insured commits suicide within one year of signing the contract, no life insurance can be paid. However, there are cases of payout if the insured was of unsound mind at the time.”
So there he had it. No payout if you kill yourself four days later. Kita looked at Yashiro. There was no point in taking out insurance, if that was the case. Yashiro knew this when he arranged for Kita to sign on for life insurance. He was telling Kita to make it look like an accident.
“So you don’t get anything from it if you kill yourself, Kita. Better give the idea up.” Yashiro stuck out his thumb and sent Kita a warning signal as he spoke. He looked satisfied, however. Kita had just been presented with one good argument for changing his mind about suicide. But Kita was still determined on his plan. He just had to change his tactics a little.
“So what other situations are there where the money doesn’t get paid?” This time, Kita thought he ought to find out all the facts.
“Well, I don’t imagine this would apply to you Mr Kita, but if for instance you were condemned to death by the courts, that’s another example. Or if you died in the course of committing a crime. If, say, you hijacked a plane, or holed up in a bank or hotel with hostages, and got yourself shot in the process. The same applies if you try to kill someone and get killed yourself – the other party’s acting in lawful self-defence, and you were asking for it. Certain conditions also apply if you’re injured in a war or a terrorist attack. I believe we limit payment to situations in which general damage is relatively limited – if the damage is widespread, there can be more claims than the company’s capable of paying, see. If you take out a contract with special conditions attached, I’d also mention that there are conditions related to damage from earthquakes, volcanic eruptions and tsunami. By the way, Mr, Kita, do you drink?”
“Yes, a bit.”
“There is no payout if you die in a condition of extreme drunkenness. As in the case of death in a car accident in which you were driving while under the influence or without a licence. Also, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that there’s no payout in a situation in which the recipient of the insurance causes the death of the insured.”
“That’s Kita’s Mum in his case, and it’s her own son who’s the insured, so I don’t think we need to worry there. Now if it was me who was either the insured or the recipient, there might be room for suspicion.” Yashiro was the first to laugh at his own joke again.
Kita signed the necessary parts of the contract, and inserted his mother’s name as recipient. When he’d paid the first instalment with his credit card, Yoshiko urged him to drop in to the medical clinic across the way and get a check-up. For some reason, her brother came along too. “Are you in the insurance business too?” asked Kita.
“Not directly, but she and I do support each other in our work. Mr Yashiro asked me along today, that’s why I’m here. I’ll explain in more detail after your check-up. The truth is, I’m extremely interested in your state of health. It’s kind of my business, you might say.”
It’s none of your business at all, thought Kita, but he said nothing.
The check-up should have been a simple and straightforward matter, but the doctor took pains to listen with his stethoscope, take his pulse, and even take an X-ray, even though the results would take time to process. He also took a blood sample. It really got to Kita that thanks to Yashiro he was in the ironic position of getting a health check-up four days before his death.
Once the doctor had signed the check-up form, the insurance contract was finalized. “The money will be paid out even if you die in an unexpected accident this evening,” Yoshiko told him. Her brother congratulated him on his clean bill of health with innocent delight.
As soon as Kita was back inside the office of Thanatos Movie Productions, Kita inquired about the puzzling line of business of the brother.
“Well, you know about organ transplants, don’t you? The official term is ‘organic transplant.’ We’re in the business of organic transport. Our main job is to coordinate the transplant operation. You’ll be aware that there are a great many patients these days who need organ transplants. Traditional organ banks can’t keep up with demand, so we’re doing our best to help increase the supply of available organs. We use our own independent network to find people willing to donate an eye cornea, say, or bone marrow, or a kidney or liver, and organize the transplant for patients who are members of our club. To date, we’ve been able to coordinate one hundred and twenty-three transplants.”
“You’re telling me I should donate my organs? But if you take my liver out, I’ll die, won’t I? If I donate a cornea I’ll lose the sight of that eye, surely. And the kidney, now—”
“You have two of them,” the brother chipped in with a businesslike smile.
“So has Mr Yashiro here, doesn’t he?”
“Oh, mine are getting pretty tired. Your engine’s in much better condition than mine.”
It really did appear that Yashiro was out to sell Kita’s organs. But he couldn’t go selling things he was still using. The brother went on with his explanation.
“Naturally, the donation itself would take place only after your death, but we need the donation recorded while you’re still alive, you see.”
“Sure, I can see that. You can’t go stealing organs from dead bodies, after all. Even if the guy’s made you a verbal promise, eh?”
“But of course.” The brother spread out a brochure. “Over ninety percent of those requesting organ transplants are Japanese, but the majority of donors come from South-East Asia, China, and India. To tell the truth, we encourage people engaged in dangerous work to donate.”
In other words, the Japanese are buying Third World organs cheap just like they do with timber and oil and seafood, thought Kita.
Yashiro broke in, “His sister hopes her customers will live as long as possible, while he wants them to die as quick as they can. The younger and healthier the organs the better, after all. And Japanese organs are less of a worry, too. You’d pay more for Japanese organs than Chinese or Indian ones, wouldn’t you?”
“All organs donated to us are equally precious.”
The brother and sister exchanged a quick glance and an embarrassed if somewhat eerie smile. It was just as Yashiro had said, the two were in the same game from polar positions. Surely they already knew this. Why on earth were they siblings, when it came down to it?
“I get the feeling I’m the only person who’s not quite getting all this,” Kita remarked, and though it wasn’t particularly funny, he laughed.
Yashiro explained. “If you die, what would be the point of burning your healthy organs, after all?”
“Well no one’s going to want to eat them, are they? I guess if I was in Tibet or somewhere the vultures would, of course.”
“In Japan, there are patients with kidney or liver problems who’ll happily use them for you. They may be second-hand, but these folks will take them over and treat them well. You’re a very lucky man, you know.”
“So you’re telling me to sell ’em, that’s what you’re saying.”
“Not without paym
ent, of course. We wouldn’t have the nerve to do that. There’s nothing that costs you more than something free, as the saying goes. No, the patients want to pay. And you can’t go offering them for a bargain, either, like they were bananas or antiques or something. That’s why I called in Mr Koikawa here.”
Mr Koikawa bowed. “I’m honoured,” he said.
To shut Yashiro up, Kita shot him a question. “You’re after something, aren’t you?”
“We’d like your corneas, liver, and kidneys.”
“How much?”
“Well it rather depends on the results of the medical check-up, but I believe we could offer you a total of one million one hundred twenty thousand yen. Just to itemize it—”
“No need to itemize. And I could get the money now?”
“We can finance at time of contract.”
“I guess that means I mortgage my organs to borrow the money.”
“Precisely.”
“The debt’s cancelled in return for the organs when I die, right?”
“Correct.”
“And if I don’t die?”
“No interest for the first month, and from then on three percent a month. We use the same repayment plan as for home loans, so you pay interest accordingly. Of course, it may be that you change your mind at some later point. You can cancel the contract if so, but this will incur an additional charge of ten percent of the original amount borrowed. That’s Plan A. In Plan B, we pay the sum for organ donation directly to the recipient of your life insurance, at the time of your death. In that case, there’s a big increase in organ price paid. Oh, and I forgot to mention that you need a guarantor if you choose Plan A.”
Kita turned to Yoshiko. “I get the feeling there’s something more to this,” he said ironically.
She responded with a look that said she had nothing to hide. “I also register clients for organ donation you know,” she said.
Her brother followed this up with a confession. “I’ve taken out insurance with my sister as designated recipient, actually.”
Was this all supposed to mean they got on well together or something?
“There’s nothing suspicious going on,” Yashiro said softly.
Well, even if there was, they’d be hiding it from him. He had nothing to gain by doubting them. “OK,” he said lightly, “I’ll sign. Mum’s going to get fifty million yen from the life insurance, so I’ll go with Plan A.”
When the brother and sister left the office, bowing constantly as they retreated, Zombie, who had been silently watching the proceedings, said excitedly, “Kita, you’ve gone and sold your life away! A total of fifty one million, one hundred and twenty thousand yen – wow!”
“Yeah I guess so,” said Kita, rubbing his upper lip to cover for his embarrassed pleasure. He suddenly felt like tasting the delights of the nouveau riche. In fact, the amount at his disposal totalled one million six hundred sixty thousand, adding in what was left in his own account. If the blood test and X-ray came up clean, the money would be paid into his bank tomorrow afternoon. He wondered what the real price on the organ market was like. One million one hundred twenty thousand was surely too cheap. If he considered that he wouldn’t have earned a single yen without registering, he’d definitely come out ahead in the deal, but on the other hand someone eager for the organs would quite likely add another zero to that sum.
Yashiro, who’d acted as his guarantor, assured him the price was probably pretty normal. He’d taken on joint liability for the handover of Kita’s organs. Kita felt he had to clarify just what Yashiro stood to gain and what risks were involved for him in this.
“So I mustn’t commit suicide, eh?”
“I wouldn’t advise it if you want the money to be paid, no. We need to come up with a plan. Firstly, it has to be an accident. Don’t you dare write a will of any sort, now, will you? Next, you can’t die from drink driving or a fight. The insurance payout gets lowered. Next, don’t try a traffic accident or falling to your death or burning to death. They wouldn’t be able to use your organs. I’m requesting this as your guarantor.”
“What if my internal organs are damaged?”
“I’d have to shoulder your debts.”
“I see. Sorry about that.”
“No, it just means you can’t damage your organs. And you have to die in what appears to be an accident.”
This was a tall order. He’d handicapped himself considerably in that moment he sold over his life, now he came to think of it. He had a few complaints about what Yashiro had let him in for that he needed to air.
“Oh and another thing, don’t go anywhere too far away. Everything hangs on an organ’s freshness. Do your best to breathe your last in a hospital, please. They need to be flown to the recipient right away for the transplant.”
Kita felt his anger rising. Zombie, the suicide specialist, muttered “Life’s tough, eh, even when you’re trying to get rid of it.” She suppressed a smile.
Kita turned to her for advice. “What’s the best way to do it?” he asked.
“I should think the best plan would be to be killed by someone,” she replied lightly without a moment’s thought. “You’ve got lots of dough, so why don’t you hire a killer? I should think Yashiro could introduce you to someone good.”
“Sure, sure. It’ll cost you five hundred grand with commission included,” muttered Yashiro.
Kita was lost for words. This guy might really come up with a killer, it seemed. He decided to have no more to do with him, and set about preparing to leave. Observing him, Yashiro cut in, his voice suddenly cold and quite unlike his previous tone.
“Go to the Moon Palace Hotel bar at nine. Shinobu Yoimachi will meet you there.”
“A date with your favourite star, Kita! Go for it, boy! Tomorrow’s the assault on Mizuho, right? I’ve uncovered the address of that Finance Ministry couple. Seems like your Mizuho is enjoying the high life of an upper class suburban lady. She spends her days at home busy with her hobbies. Drop in and disturb her for a while.”
Zombie passed Kita a piece of paper containing an address and telephone number.
“Good luck! This really is the last time we’ll meet. Let’s have sex if we meet in the next world, eh?”
Yashiro stood beside her as she waved Kita goodbye. “Wait a minute,” Yashiro broke in, handing Kita a cell phone. “Let me give you this. Keep in touch. I’ll give you a call as well, to keep an eye on things.”
Kita took the phone without a word and then, preparing to face his difficult sentence of Death by Choice once more, he stepped, a little pigeon-toed, out through the door. That business about the killer was a joke, wasn’t it? Unable to dispel a touch of uneasiness, he hurried off down the slope with a sense that he was being followed.
Confession of Faith
“Those guys sell whatever they can lay hands on. They even put a price on what they can’t sell. From one day to the next you’re sold off like a cow – sirloin here, fillet there,” murmured Shinobu with unconcealed distain. She made a blatant gesture with her chin towards the two men in dark suits perched at the counter of the Moon Palace Hotel bar, glancing in her direction from time to time.
Kita had just come from his meeting with the Koikawa siblings, in which he’d sold his life to the sister, and an organ set of corneas, liver, and kidneys to the brother. He was feeling just like a cow at a meat market himself, and her words made him feel suddenly close to her.
“I paid one hundred thousand yen to those guys to have tea with you, you know,” he whispered in her ear.
“Eh?” she exclaimed, loud enough to make the other customers turn and look, then quickly brought her hand to her mouth when she realized how loudly she’d spoken.
“Payment in advance.”
“Oh God,” moaned Shinobu, like a little calf, and then glared from a distance at the two sitting at the counter. “They do a ruthless trade all right. I was just told to go have tea with the son of the programme schedule head.”
�
��It’s a million to spend the night with you apparently.”
Shinobu sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said, bowing her head. When he asked why she felt the need to apologize, she said, “Those guys are…” and made a slicing action with her forefinger down one cheek. Kita looked more closely at the men’s profiles, to see if there really were scars there. The faces of both were oddly smooth.
“They must be hard up for money,” he remarked sympathetically. Shinobu leaned her head back and laughed.
“Money’s all they think about.”
Well if you decided to die, you could make forty or fifty million without lifting a finger, thought Kita. Though mind you, there was no guaranteeing whether you could use the money while you were still alive. But here was Shinobu, who could simply lay down her body on some bed for a night, or drink eleven rounds of tea, without selling her cornea and liver and kidneys, and she made someone the same money as Kita just had for his cornea and internal organs. So how much money would change hands if she actually sold her life? Those yakuza businessmen over there were keeping a vigilant eye on this prize piece of goods. They were playing the same role as the armed guards of some van transporting gold bullion.
The real Shinobu Yoimachi struck Kita as a rather faded version of the star who had seared herself into his brain four or five years ago. This girl, who he’d only ever seen on television or in photos till this moment, was sitting so close he could pinch or rub her, and talking to him in her real voice. But then why was it that she somehow didn’t feel alive? Maybe it was because he’d spent so many years worshipping her surface appearance that he couldn’t quite believe she was alive in the same way he was. This voice was indeed the same one that had sung ‘Italian George’ and ‘One Rainy Day,’ but he felt as if he was hearing something pre-recorded when she spoke. Her smiling face was just the same as in all those images, but now that she was here in three-dimensional reality, with expressions playing on her face, she looked in fact like some exquisite doll.
Death By Choice Page 10