Holmes had not stirred during this discourse. His eyes were closed and he was listening with rapt attention.
‘There is no question of hesitation. I must do this. What, specifically, are your plans? How will you support me? How many people know about this?’ he finally asked.
‘I am touched by your ready acquiescence, Mr. Holmes,’ said Oshima-san after a moment’s silence. ‘Thank you. As of this instant, you are in the innermost circle of the Japanese government. Operation Kobe55 is now launched. There is an implicit assumption of utter secrecy and I will not insult you by asking you to take an oath.
‘Including you, Mr. Holmes, there are only ten other persons who know about Operation Kobe55. Please read this list, which I will destroy after you have memorized the names.’
He handed over a sheet of paper with a list of names written in English.
1.The Emperor
2.Shigeo Oshima, Director of Intelligence Research
3.Hiroshi Sugiyama, Ambassador of Japan to Switzerland
4.Akira Otawa, Minister of Internal Affairs
5.Isamu Nishikawa, Minister of Finance
6.Yoshio Yoshida, Minister of Foreign Affairs
7.Hajime Sasaki, Chief of Secret Police
8.Kazuo Takenaka, Ambassador of Japan to France
9.Seiichiro Kasama, Consul-General of Japan to China
10.Miss Masako Nohara, Confidential Secretary
Holmes studied the names carefully. Then with deliberation, he folded the sheet and handed it back to Oshima-san, who tore it up and kept it aside for later destruction.
‘Your confidential secretary,’ Holmes remarked. ‘A woman?’
‘Yes. Masako was herself an intelligence agent and is probably the most brilliant woman in Japan.’
As far as Holmes was concerned, the only woman worthy of admiration was Irene Adler.4 But she was from a different time.
‘These are people with position and power. Presumably patriotic and completely in the clear.’
‘Quite so, Mr. Holmes. But like you, I trust no one. In this business one simply cannot afford to. These ten individuals know about the objectives of Operation Kobe55. But only Masako and I have a complete view. Interestingly, she is the one with the contacts in the Sumiyoshi-kai Yakuza clan and was responsible for unearthing the plot. Others are aware of some aspects, but again, in this business, the less you know, the safer you are.
‘All persons on this list are aware of the existence of the others. Nevertheless, each one has only as much information as is necessary for him to carry out his duties.
‘Let us now have lunch. You may find Japanese cuisine a little different from what you are used to, but I am hopeful you will acquire an appreciation for it soon. I will then have Masako brief you about the plan and I will ask Sugiyama-san to absent himself. For his own safety, of course.’
2Holmes never referred to the director as ‘Oshima-san’
3Readers may refer to The Naval Treaty for an introduction to Monsieur Dubugue.
4The reader is advised to refer to A Scandal in Bohemia for further information concerning the charm and intelligence of Irene Adler.
Masako Nohara
The world belongs to the brave, my friend, as you said
so many times when we strolled in your favourite garden
in Fukuoka. They behave like Samurai,
even without wearing their armour.
A note: This is the account of Masako Nohara, Confidential Secretary to Shigeo Oshima. I spoke to her on many occasions over a number of years and additionally reviewed several confidential documents given to me by the Japanese government to confirm certain facts. What you will now read has her approval as being an accurate summary of many interviews.
Ameya-Okocho, the cramped and crowded market of Tokyo is an area where the Sumiyoshi-kai Yakuza clan operates with impunity.
There is nothing to suggest, Dr. Watson, that this place is in any way special. It is like any other market anywhere in Japan, if not in Asia. It is not clean and orderly. The merchants lack finesse and the quality of their goods cannot always be trusted. Their language is coarse and they seem content to conduct commerce year after year at the very same place, with no discernible change in their economic condition.
But for those who can see past the obvious, there cannot be a better cover for the Yakuza. Look a little more closely and you will see many tattoo shops and plenty of men coming and going. Their upper bodies are often bare and they display their rather complex colourful tattoos more openly than at any other market. And if you look even more closely—which you really cannot without being noticed as a curious outsider who has no business being there in the first place—you might observe that many men have a smaller little finger than normal. Why? Quite simple—most have a missing digit, the result of the ubitsume ceremony. It is the evidence they flaunt of being a fiercely loyal member of a Yakuza clan. Even as a child, I found the ceremony and the purpose lacking logic. But I was never talkative and knew when to keep my thoughts to myself. This has always helped. In Japan, as in most countries, the value of women is minimal and regard for their opinions is not high. I have always found that advantageous in getting my work done.
Members of the Yakuza are not warped people with low intelligence; on the contrary, many are extremely intelligent and even excel in mathematics, music, and the arts. But for many reasons—a deprived socio-economic background, exposure to crime at an early age, or the glamour of being different and controversial and thus being looked at with fascination—they have resolved to become part of a group that attracts censure from civil society.
You ask about me, Dr. Watson. As a young girl growing up in Nagoya, to the southwest of Tokyo, I quickly discovered that I had an excellent memory. Faces, colours, patterns, numbers—I could not forget even if I wished to. My parents had a small garments shop and we had a comfortable life, though we were not rich. I had a brother who was not interested in school and dropped out soon enough to help in the shop. My parents saw that I was gifted and encouraged me. I excelled in music, sports, calligraphy, science, and history. But I was also quiet and preferred my own company. And I did not find the experience of being a girl very interesting. And I did not like wearing elaborate kimonos. These feminine pursuits were annoying and distracting. I preferred reading and thinking. I was keenly aware of my high intelligence and did not believe in false modesty. My family was proud of me.
I was sent away to Tokyo after I graduated from high school and joined Tokyo University, where I earned degrees in Mathematics and Economics. I had absolutely no time for the normal interests of most girls; I was pretty, but then beauty is only the applied mathematics of nature and I could not be bothered with it. Any male student who approached me turned away hurriedly as my absolute disinterest in him became evident in a few seconds. It is a universal truth, Dr. Watson, that men do not like women who are smarter than them. There was simply no question of getting married, though my mother, like all mothers everywhere, wished me to consider the possibility. I asked them to present an ideal match—there were none and the matter closed by itself.
My brother, Kazuo, was affectionate and protective and did not mind staying behind while I, his younger and more brilliant sibling, made a name for myself. He was very proud of me and rescued me from some strange circumstances I found myself in from time to time, where the natural frailty of a woman created complications.
I joined the Intelligence Research Department of the Japanese government after university as a special recruit. There were four of us—I cannot tell you their names, of course. After spending a year with Oshima-san and learning the art of thinking all over again, I was sent to be trained as a field operative. My natural circumspection, extraordinary memory, and absolute self-confidence made me the ideal agent. Intelligence-gathering is not about being in the thick of murder
s, as you obviously know. Economic crimes and the assessment of foreign threats to Japan were of particular interest to me. I travelled extensively—to Singapore, the Philippines, Korea, Formosa, China, the United States, France, England, and Russia. These journeys were usually undertaken in the garb of some innocuous position—third secretary for economic affairs or press attaché, for instance. I met ministers, journalists, other diplomats—but through all this, I was busy collecting information and storing it away in my methodical mind. I would send my missives to Oshima-san from time to time; I had learned the art of giving him precisely what he wanted in the form he appreciated for fastest assimilation. We both knew that I was far more intelligent than he was, but he was a paternal figure and was proud to be my mentor. In turn, I respected his judgment and experience.
In Paris, Dr. Watson, I happened to meet a French detective from the Sûreté, named François le Villard, at a diplomatic event. I was quite taken by his intelligence, and also by the fact that he was charmed by me and not intimidated. He took me to the Louvre and to the newly opened Eiffel Tower and was gracious in every way. At some point, he mentioned the name of Sherlock Holmes, an Englishman with a great facility for inference and detection. He gave me several instances of his remarkable ability to think in a different way and I was reminded of Oshima-san. I also heard about a Professor Moriarty, who appeared to head a vast shadowy world in such an intelligent way that no crime of any consequence could ever be traced back to him. And yet, every police department knew that only he could have been involved. Even the instruments of the crimes were unaware that they had merely been used. I mention all this to tell you, Dr. Watson, that I knew of your distinguished friend a long time ago.
In one of my dispatches from Paris, I recall mentioning that Professor Moriarty was likely to be a person of consequence for the Japanese Empire and we would do well to keep an active dossier on him. Oshima-san could not act on the matter as there was too little to go on, but he did instruct the Japanese Embassy to send him information on the man whenever they heard something. It is unlikely that any information was ever sent; the professor lived in the darkest of shadows and was not interested in publicity.
Oshima-san recalled me to Tokyo in early 1888. At that time, I was using the cover of second secretary for economic affairs stationed in Shanghai and had accumulated a lot of knowledge about the opium syndicates. The Green Gang Triad, headed by Tsong Wang, had attracted my attention and I had just submitted a document to Oshima-san tracing the flow of funds to and from the group. The trade was facilitated by Indians and Baghdadi Jews in Shanghai and Hong Kong, but the actual deals and the running of opium dens and resultant crimes were all controlled by Tsong Wang and his group. I believed it was a matter of time before Tsong Wang looked at the Japanese market and felt it necessary to mention this in a couple of dispatches.
On receiving the summons, I left for Yokohama and went to meet Oshima-san in Tokyo. A young woman of authority was a curiosity and I was aware I was breaking every cultural norm. However, I did not care and neither did Oshima-san. We had no time to waste on pleasantries as we knew the possible implications of a minute’s delay. It may be that intelligence-gathering is ninety-nine percent assimilation and inference but when action is called for, it must be decisive and a second’s procrastination cannot be countenanced.
‘Masako, we have a sensitive project. You may need to use your brother for the task I have in mind.’
‘Explain, Oshima-san.’
‘I am of the opinion that we have not adequately understood the Yakuza. Yes, we have friends among them. We know what they are smuggling, who they are extorting from, and what kinds of petty crimes they may have contemplated and committed. But generally, we are in a state of acceptance about them. I have been concerned that we are complacent and do not know about their future plans to the extent we should. Your report from Shanghai made it clear that we need to do something quickly. When I heard that Watanabe of the Inagawa-kai and Kiyono of the Sumiyoshi-kai had both travelled to Shanghai within days of each other, I sensed that something was amiss. It is not often that the saiko-komon, who run day-to-day activities of two large Yakuza clans travel to the same destination at the same time. Neither of them has been active in China and has no particular business interest there. Then why?’
‘Why was I not made aware of their travel? I could have made enquiries in Shanghai.’
‘Intelligence reached me only after they returned to Japan over the past week. Regret is pointless. Let us now work out a means to uncover their plans.’
‘Your suggestions?’
‘You need to infiltrate the two clans somehow.’
‘How must I prepare? I know little about the Yakuza as I have operated principally from outside Japan.’
‘Honda-san in Section Six is a former Yakuza operative who worked in a much smaller and now-defunct clan, the Kyosei-kai. He will brief you about the cultures of individual Yakuza groups. He is reliable, but do not at this time mention that you have a mission. After that, we must find a way to approach one of the clan leaders, seeking assistance for your brother’s business.’
‘Yes, Oshima-san.’
‘And oh, Masako, try to look feminine. It will help on this mission.’
‘Yes, Oshima-san.’
I bowed and left. Independence in action is a chief requirement in my position. There was no question of anyone helping me at any stage, as I am sure you will appreciate, Dr. Watson.
Honda-san of Section Six, a group of undercover field operatives who liaison with criminal elements, gave me an excellent briefing about the methods of the Yakuza. He maintained contacts with old friends, some of whom were actually Yakuza members, and facilitated dialogues with them when necessary. He was never considered a real threat by the Yakuza and managed to function quite well.
I convinced Kazuo through letters that he needed to be more ambitious and expand his business. He agreed, after some initial hesitation, and came to Tokyo to meet me. We went to Ameya-Okocho together one afternoon in August to become familiar with the place.
Kazuo walked around the market introducing himself as a cloth merchant from Nagoya looking to move to Tokyo to establish a small business and enquiring if there was anyone who could help him. I walked beside him, demure in a yuzen dyed kimono with a particular design characteristic of Kanto. I bowed and spoke little.
By and by, Kazuo became friendly with a shopkeeper who was really more interested in me and kept up the conversation so that he could talk to me as well. He agreed to introduce us to someone who could help us. He asked us to come the next morning. But not before he offered us tea and asked if I was married.
We reached his shop in the morning and found another individual there. He was about thirty-five, with thin hair and cold eyes. We were introduced to him as people seeking to establish a new business in Ameya-Okocho. This man was Kobayashi and he was a member of the Yakuza, a fact that he did not seek to hide. I noticed his missing digit, and the shadows of his tattoos were visible through his shirt.
‘Why do you wish to move from Nagoya?’ he asked Kazuo.
I had prepared Kazuo.
‘Business is not very good and I do not think I have sufficient contacts. An ambitious man must spend time in Tokyo, I feel.’
‘I do have a shop available for rent.’ He named a price that was quite high.
I spoke softly and demurely and fluttered my eyelashes. ‘We are not well-off, Kobayashi-sama. Please reconsider. We shall be indebted to you.’
With alacrity, Kobayashi reconsidered and soon enough a deal was struck. I expressed my gratitude and bowed many times in the most feminine and servile way possible. Once again, the shopkeeper and Kobayashi, who had by now softened considerably, insisted that we have tea. We did.
I set up the shop for Kazuo and invited the shopkeeper and Kobayashi to the formal opening and served them tea in an elaborate, traditional m
anner. We burned incense and prayed together for the success of the business. I presented them both with the best cloth we had purchased as part of our initial stock. I think it was English tweed.
Kobayashi became a devoted follower and came often to see me. He came with stories of his exploits and incidents of petty crime, in which he was the mastermind and everyone else was taken in by his supposed brilliance and absurd bravery. I listened to him with wide-eyed wonder and exclaimed every now and then in admiration, all the while thinking that I had yet to encounter a greater fool.
Before he knew it, he was ready to introduce me to his boss, Uchiyama, who supposedly controlled the business in the area. A man likes to have a pretty woman by his side as a symbol of acquisition and power. He probably thought that his influence would increase.
And so it did, for within weeks, Uchiyama introduced me to his boss who then introduced me to his boss. Because I was attractive and behaved in a coquettish yet conservative manner, the men did not take liberties with me and treated me with deference.
I finally met Kiyono-san, the saiko-komon of the Sumiyoshi-kai at a party organized by Uchiyama.
I bowed gracefully to him.
‘My brother and I are grateful to you for your kindness, Kiyono-san. Our business is doing well and Uchiyama-san and Kobayashi-san have been most gracious. We wish we could express our gratitude in some way.’
Flattery gets you far, Dr. Watson. Caressing a man’s ego opens many doors.
Sherlock Holmes, The Missing Years, Japan Page 9