by Dave Daren
“Mr. Kurzak,” I said heartily as I stepped up to the table.
“Creed,” Kurzak choked out. He was startled, and for a moment, afraid. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Just returning the favor,” I replied. When Kurzak gave me a blank stare, I explained, “You know, the legal advice.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he snarled. A few of the guests at nearby tables glanced towards us.
“Perjury,” I said. “It’s a serious crime. The courts tend to hand down pretty harsh sentences for lying under oath.”
“Is there a point to this?” Kurzak demanded in a more hushed voice.
“The contract you witnessed,” I replied. “Are you really going to claim that you were in Boston that night?”
Kurzak didn’t utter a word, but the anger pouring off him was answer enough. The man with Kurzak began talking rapidly in Japanese. Kurzak nodded a couple of times, but he never took his eyes off me.
“Leave, Mr. Creed,” Kurzak hissed when the other man finally wound down, “Or I’ll call the police right now and have you arrested for assault, harassment, and anything else I can think of between now and their arrival.”
I stepped back from the table and held my hands up in a peaceful gesture. Kurzak’s guest was talking again, and I tried to keep my phone pointed towards him. Kurzak reached for his own phone, so I did a quick about face and left the restaurant.
I waited in my car, keeping an eye on the restaurant. I wasn’t disappointed. Kurzak appeared a few minutes later and handed his ticket to the valet. I turned my engine on and began the process of moving the Caddy. Kurzak, meanwhile, was having another intense conversation, this time on his phone.
The valet drove up with Kurzak’s BMW, and he hopped inside even before the kid was out of the car. Kurzak did a quick check for traffic, then made a left turn. I thanked the traffic fairies for that bit of luck, because I wasn’t looking forward to making a three-point turn in my current ride. I pulled in behind him and let him lead the way.
Our two-car caravan left the downtown area and climbed into the hills. I hung back a little further, since there were noticeably fewer cars on these roads. With only the light from the moon and a few streetlights, I figured even my car could remain anonymous given enough distance.
When we reached a fork, Kurzak turned onto a winding road that led into a box canyon. I gave him some extra space and then slowly followed him down the poorly lit street. I could see his taillights up ahead, and after a two mile stretch, I saw the brake lights come on, and the car slowed down. I was creeping along by now, not wanting to get too close. Kurzak’s BMW turned into a gated driveway, and after a moment, the gate swung open and the BMW shot forward.
I stopped for a moment as the gate swung closed. There wasn’t anything as crass as a name on a mailbox, but I spotted a house number. I checked my GPS app and made a note of both the house number and the location. Just ahead, I found another driveway and managed to turn the car around. I drove past the gate again but it was impossible to see anything.
Time to get to Van Nuys and gather my traveling bag. Tomorrow would be soon enough to track down the owner of the house.
Chapter 11
I woke up to the ringing of my phone. I glanced at the alarm clock on the other side of my king-sized bed and realized it was already 9:30. I threw the duvet off and fumbled for my phone.
“Creed,” I croaked when I finally found it.
“Mr. Creed,” a nasally voice replied. “This is Penelope Rush.”
“Uh,” I grunted as I tried to sit up.
“From Judge Luca’s chamber?”
“Yes,” I nearly exclaimed as I finally reached the edge of the mattress and pulled myself upright.
“Um, we received a motion to dismiss from ArDex this morning and a request for an emergency hearing,” Penelope explained. “Judge Luca would like to set a hearing date as soon as possible because he’ll be leaving for vacation in two weeks. I tried calling your office number, but no one picked up.”
“Right, okay,” I replied. I must have forgotten to turn the voicemail on when I left the night before. “What dates are available?”
“I’ve already talked to ArDex’s attorneys, and they’re good with either the tenth at 9:30 or the thirteenth at 4:30.”
“The tenth,” I declared. “Definitely the tenth.”
“I’ll put that on the calendar,” Penelope noted. “Also, Judge Luca will probably want to discuss the discovery schedule if he doesn’t dismiss the case.”
“That would be fine,” I said as I finally started looking around for a piece of paper.
“Good, I’ve got everything in,” Penelope declared cheerfully. “You should be getting your notice in your email.”
And then she was gone. I gave up on the search for a piece of paper and simply added yet another note to my phone app. Reasonably awake now, I made my way to the bathroom and enjoyed a very hot shower. Even the mirror here was kinder to me. My nose was looking less like an eggplant and more like a pomegranate.
Cleaned, dressed and pressed, and even reasonably rested, I stopped at the Starbucks on the corner for a good dose of caffeine for the trip to Van Nuys. There were no traffic jams this morning, just the usual overabundance of cars. Still, I made it into the office before eleven, which I thought was a feat worth noting. I left the Caddy in what had become its usual spot and bounded up the stairs to the office.
All my good cheer evaporated when I realized the door to the office was already unlocked. I braced myself just to the side, then pushed the door slowly open with my fingertips. I waited, but nothing happened. After a solid minute, I heard footsteps approach the door, and I crouched down.
The door was pulled open, and I leapt towards the person. I had my fist back, ready to punch, when I saw a baseball bat swing towards my head. I ducked, and my eyes caught sight of a pair of shapely ankles and red pumps.
“Sofia!” I cried out.
“Vincent!” shouted Sofia at the same moment.
I stood up and wrapped Sofia into a massive bear hug. She hugged me back, then stepped away.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded as I examined the stitches along her hairline.
“I couldn’t stay home,” she replied. “Mom was driving me crazy.”
“You could have taken a spa day,” I chided her, though I was really happy she had decided to come here instead.
“There’s still time,” she said airily as she walked back to her desk. “If I’d found a huge mess in here, I probably would have disappeared for a few days.”
“Sorry about the smell,” I sniffed. “I borrowed some of the cleaner they use downstairs.”
“I’ll survive,” she assured me. “So did I miss anything?”
“We have a hearing with the judge on the tenth at 9:30,” I replied. “ArDex filed their motion to dismiss this morning. I have a recording in Japanese that I need translated and I’ll send that to you. Also, I have another search for you, if you feel up to it.”
“Tell me,” she said as she slipped into her chair. Her hands were already poised over the keyboard.
“I need to know who owns this house.” I paused for a moment while I scrolled through my assortment of notes. “Here. It’s 5528 Green Oak Drive in the Hills.”
“Got it.”
Sofia’s attention was already focused on her search so I ventured into my own office and turned on my computer. I found the promised email from the clerk as well as a string of other emails that could be ignored. Hidden among the ads for CLE classes, private investigators, and process servers was an email address I didn’t recognize. I was tempted to trash it, per every computer safety class I’d ever taken, but the address looked legitimate, so I decided to risk it.
The email was from Miyo. She thanked me again for taking her case, then added that she had the paperwork together. Would I be willing to meet her for dinner that night? That was followed by a winking happy face emoji.
I knew I had to be careful here. Miyo was beautiful and seductive, but still a client. Every ethics class I’d ever been in said it was okay to be friends with your client, but you weren’t supposed to start dating them. I also had to admit, part of me was still unsettled about the timing of her arrival. So I invited her to come by the office at five and I could review her documents then. Maybe another visit to the burrito place would be in order.
I plowed through a few more case files with one eye on the clock. I had just wrapped up a phone call with opposing counsel and grabbed my jacket for the trip back downtown when another email from Miyo popped up. Five in Van Nuys wouldn’t work for her. Maybe six at the Pantry?
The Pantry was a lot closer to the FBI building, not to mention my current digs. A massive plate of crispy fried chicken definitely had a certain appeal as well. I glanced at the clock again and then agreed to meet Miyo at the Pantry at six. With my dinner plans set, I moved towards the door, determined to avoid any more phone calls or emails.
“I’m off,” I announced as I fumbled with my keys and phone.
“Text me if you need anything,” Sofia replied. She barely glanced up from her computer.
“I probably won’t be back tonight, so take off whenever you want.”
“Ah,” she drawled. This time she did look up from her computer. “Are you and Anna meeting afterwards?”
“No,” I said a bit too quickly. I could feel the tips of my ears turning red. “I’m meeting with Miyo Tatsuda, actually. She wants to pass along her file.”
“This is the woman who came in yesterday?” Sofia asked suspiciously.
“Yes,” I admitted. “But it’s strictly business.”
“Uh-huh,” Sofia muttered doubtfully.
“It’s a dinner,” I tried to reassure her. “Not exactly a hotbed of desire.”
“You’ve seen ‘When Harry Met Sally’, right?” Sofia asked.
“She was faking it,” I replied as an image of Meg Ryan shouting “Oh, Yes” popped into my brain. “That was the whole point.”
“Uh-huh,” Sofia repeated.
“I promise to behave myself,” I finally conceded. “Food only, and then home like a good little boy.”
“I just might call to check in on you,” Sofia said, but I couldn’t tell if she was teasing or serious.
“You haven’t even met Miyo,” I protested. It felt odd defending Miyo, even when my own doubts still niggled at the back of my brain.
“I like Anna,” Sofia replied. “And I still can’t find any pictures of Miyo.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I finally sighed. With that, I was out the door and on my way to the Federal Building. The traffic was still average, and I made it to the downtown area with nearly twenty minutes to spare. I even lucked into a parking spot a mere block from my destination.
Another guest pass was waiting for me at the security desk but the agent who took me upstairs this time looked like he’d passed retirement age about three decades ago. I tried to start a conversation, but the agent either ignored me or didn’t hear me. I couldn’t decide which and I figured I was probably better off not knowing.
The same woman sat at the main desk, and she pointed me to the same uncomfortable plastic chair. Fortunately, Special Agent Tabitha Smart rescued me from that particular torture device much more quickly than she had before.
Agent Smart was true to her word, and this meeting was held in a small but comfortable conference room. Someone had even set out bottles of water and soft drinks. There was also a portable projector on the table, and a neat stack of yellow pads and pens.
“If you need to take notes,” Agent Smart said as she pointed at the paper.
“Thanks,” I replied as I grabbed a pen and a pad. Clearly, this was more serious than I had thought. It was even possible that the FBI was about to share useful information.
Agent Smart took the seat next to the projector and turned it on. The FBI logo lit up the opposite wall, followed by a warning that all information was considered confidential.
Good Lord, I thought, it’s a slide show. I couldn’t decide if this was good or bad.
“The yakuza you’re interested in are based in Sapporo,” Agent Smart began. She was in full lecture mode as the next slide popped up, showing what I presumed was the skyline of Sapporo. “They have operations across Japan, but Sapporo is their home base.”
“The gang was just a local group of thugs, initially,” she continued. “Mostly engaged in loan sharking, illegal gambling operations, and protection rackets.” A picture of a group of scowling young Japanese men in leather jackets and bad haircuts appeared.
“So, the usual,” I commented.
“The usual,” Agent Smart agreed. “That all changed about twenty years ago. This particular gang found itself embroiled in a turf war with a gang from Osaka that was looking to expand its operations. It was bloody, and both sides lost several key leaders.”
A series of slides followed, showing bloody and mutilated bodies. It was a grim sight, and a not-so-subtle reminder of the type of people Anna had decided to challenge.
“At first, we believed that the Osaka gang had been victorious,” Agent Smart noted as the image of a different group of angry young men appeared. “But then members of the Osaka gang began disappearing. A few would turn up months after they had disappeared, their bodies mostly reduced to skeletons.”
Another round of images, though the skeletons were less gruesome than the bloodbath shown in the previous slides.
“At first, local authorities believed it was the work of a group of people. But key forensic evidence led us to believe that the murders were being carried out by a single individual.”
“Are you going to tell me what that evidence was?” I asked.
“I won’t give you any details,” Agent Smart replied. “But each individual was killed in a brutal attack. There were no weapons used in any of the murders. Just hands and feet.”
I thought back to the encounters I’d had so far and I could believe it.
“The remnants of the Osaka gang returned to their old territory, and the local Sapporo gang re-emerged, but with some major changes,” Agent Smart continued. “The gang shifted its operations, from ‘the usual’, as you put it, to more complex crimes. They became a major player in the illegal arms market, with side businesses in illegal drugs and human trafficking.
“They also had new leadership. Most of the figures were known to us, but the true head of the gang was unfamiliar. Several attempts were made to penetrate the gang and identify the new leader, but none met with success.”
Another slide, another round of bodies.
“We caught a break when the local Sapporo police arrested a known gang member. The man was high at the time, and he kept telling the police that the Mizuchi would come for him. One of the officers kept pressing him to explain what he meant, and the man finally stated that Mizuchi was the name adopted by the leader of the yakuza. He also confirmed that Mizuchi had personally killed every rival to his power.”
Another slide, this one showing a body with the tongue torn out and the eyes gouged from their sockets.
“That particular source didn’t fare very well after he was released, but we now had a name. We’ve been tracking his activities ever since.”
A much more mundane slide was next. This one showed a list of companies with names like Better Baby and Happy Haru.
“In some cases, the yakuza took over already existing companies, and in other cases, they created companies. All of these companies are legitimate, and they all produce baby-related products that are shipped around the world.”
“No one looks too closely at baby products,” I guessed.
“Exactly,” Agent Smart agreed. “It makes it easier to smuggle in your other products.”
“How many people in these companies actually know what’s going on?” I asked. Judging by the sales volume numbers on the graph, these were some big companies.
“As I sa
id,” Agent Smart replied. “These are legitimate companies. The vast majority of employees have no idea that the yakuza is involved. A few in upper management would have to know and are likely members of the gang. There’s a few others, at critical points in the supply line, but that’s it.”
She put the next slide up. It looked like any business org chart. There were even pictures of some of the players, except for the top-most position. The CEO position had a simple label that said Mizuchi. I let out a low whistle.
“We’ve been working with the Japanese government to investigate and keep track of all of the yakuza, but it can be problematic. The truly successful ones, like Mizuchi, buy protection. Local police forces, citizens, all work to protect the yakuza. In return, the yakuza provide protection, income, even power.
“We know that Mizuchi is primarily smuggling drugs into the US, but we haven’t been able to find an actual shipment yet. We’ve been close in the past, but the drugs disappear before we arrive.”
“So this spying works both ways,” I commented, half in jest.
“Unfortunately, yes,” Agent Smart replied seriously. “Profits are measured in the billions, so there’s plenty to go around. Where money doesn’t work, force or violence often does.”
“I might be able to help you with that,” I admitted.
“How so?” Agent Smart asked. She turned her full focus on me now, ignoring the presentation.
“ArDex currently has two ships at the port, the Osprey and the Polar Star,” I replied, “The goods from the Polar Star are probably legit but the Osprey was likely carrying drugs. Unfortunately, the goods have already left the port, but we could get the records from ArDex. We also have the name of the trucking company that picked up the goods.”
“The port?” Agent Smart murmured as she gave me an intense stare. “There was an incident down at the port just the other day. A man was shot.”
“Really?” I feigned surprise.
“So how do you know about the ArDex ships?” she asked.
“Just part of my investigation,” I replied.
“Investigation. Right,” she drawled.