It was difficult to make out much of the detail, because the faces of the three men were partly shaded by their headgear, and the photo was underexposed. Elly moved the magnifying glass over the face of the taller of the two Japanese men in military uniform. Under its distorting lens, his eyes or one side of his mouth would come into focus for a moment, only to blur and dissolve as she tried to bring the glass closer to the surface of the photo. But yes. The smooth curve of the cheek, the faintly smiling expression of the eyes and the soft shape of the lips all seemed familiar. Or was she just imposing her own imaginings on this hazy image?
‘What did you say Ogiri Joji did during the war?’ she asked Fergus.
Responding to the intonation of her voice, he came and stood next to her, looking over her shoulder.
‘I’m not exactly sure,’ he said. ‘We didn’t talk about it in his interview. All I know is that he was something relatively senior in the navy. I think he was in China — or was it Indo-China? — for part of the time.’
‘In Hainan?’ asked Elly.
‘Oh no,’ said Fergus slowly, as he grasped the meaning of her question. ‘You can’t think it’s Ogiri in the photo? Surely not.’
‘“I think I’ve seen the man in the photo. He’s everywhere”,’ Elly quoted. ‘Isn’t that what Vida wrote in her letter? Those advertisements for Ogiri’s book, with his image on — they started appearing everywhere in early August, just before she died. There are two on the noticeboard opposite her apartment. I asked the man in the post office how long they’d been there, and he said since early August. Ogiri’s photo is on the trams too, and in the bookshops and in advertisements in all the newspapers and magazines. He really is everywhere.’
‘Let me see.’ Fergus took the photo and stared at it in silence for a while. Elly could see that his hand was shaking.
‘Ogiri asked me about Vida again when I interviewed him for the paper,’ said Fergus very quietly. ‘I was puzzled at the time that he seemed so interested in her. He asked me whether I was still planning to write another article about her, and I said I was. I think I might have mentioned that she had some photographs from China . . .’
Suddenly he slammed the photo down on the table, his face turning scarlet with rage. ‘That miserable shite! He was just using us, wasn’t he? He didn’t want to help us at all. It was just because I’d written about Vida. He just wanted . . . I know, I’ve got something. Just wait. I’m going to find it. I’m going to nail that bastard.’
He stormed up the stairs and Elly could hear him banging and thumping around in his study, and the crash of a large pile of books or documents collapsing on to the floor. She went to the bottom of the stairs.
‘Don’t, Fergus,’ she called up to him. ‘Leave it. I’m sorry. I should never have mentioned it. We can’t be sure it’s him. We’ll never be sure. I may be just imagining the resemblance. You’re going to wake the baby, and you should be getting on with your packing. Forget it. This is not our problem.’
But Fergus didn’t answer, and the crashing sounds continued, until he finally came bounding down the staircase, waving a newspaper cutting in one hand.
‘Listen. Just listen to this,’ said Fergus, reading from the cutting in a high-speed monotone. ‘Ogiri Joji heads the Pacific International Trading Company, which focuses on developing commercial ties between blah, blah, blah . . . He attended Tokyo Foreign Languages College and graduated from the Imperial Japanese Navy Academy in 1922, before going to Britain, where he studied politics and history at Oxford. He became Resident Staff Officer at the Japanese Embassy in London in 1930 and in 1935 he was promoted to the rank of captain and served as naval attaché in Thailand for two years. Now this is it,’ Fergus’ speech slowed, and he read the next section with heavy emphasis on every word. ‘During the early 1940s he occupied a position with the Japanese Naval Administration in southern China, planning the exploitation of mineral and forestry resources. He was briefly investigated by war-crimes prosecutors but the investigation was dropped and soon after he entered the business world, focusing on revitalising trade between Japan other Asian countries.’
‘That doesn’t tell us very much,’ said Elly. ‘He could have been anywhere in southern China.’
‘No!’ Fergus was almost shouting. ‘Don’t you see? “Naval Administration”. Hainan Island was the only part of China administered by the navy. I’m a total idiot. Why didn’t I put two and two together? But when I read up about him, I somehow missed this. I didn’t make the connection. He must have been in Hainan. Dreadful things happened there during the war, you know. There were stories at the war-crimes trials, awful stories about the burning of villages, killing of civilians. The villagers in the mountains — they’re native tribes, not Chinese — some of them helped the communist guerrillas, and got slaughtered for their pains. That must be what we’re seeing here. But in the end it all got overshadowed by the stories about the execution of Western missionaries on the island, and all the ghastly things that went on in the prisoner-of-war camp there. Ogiri wasn’t involved with the POW camp, so I guess they just never pursued him. There’s a transcript of some of the testimonies from the war-crimes trials, where they talked about Hainan. I know I’ve got a copy of it somewhere, but I just can’t find it now.’
‘Oh God,’ said Elly slowly. ‘It’s hard to believe, isn’t it? All that charm and polish . . . Could a man like that really have done . . . whatever it was that Vida witnessed? A massacre of villagers, I suppose.’
‘Don’t you doubt it,’ retorted Fergus. ‘Believe me, I’ve met some pretty charming war criminals in my time, and not just in this part of the world, either.’
‘But even if it is Ogiri in the photo,’ Elly objected, ‘I can’t imagine that man killing Vida in cold blood, can you? I can’t imagine him actually inflicting violence on anyone. Apart from anything else, it would mess up his expensive suits.’ She felt uncomfortable the moment she had said that, realising how callous it sounded, but Fergus just gave a rather grim smile.
‘Oh, he’d never do it himself, would he? I’m sure it was the same during the war. He would have just given the orders, and someone else would have pulled the trigger or lit the match or whatever. There’d be others to do it for him here too. Didn’t I tell you he knows all the right strings to pull? He certainly has the motive. Think how bad it would be for his brilliant political future if something like this came out, particularly in the American press.’
‘Is it possible,’ said Elly, trying to think things through, ‘that the young man they arrested outside our house might have been working for Ogiri?’
Fergus paused and considered this for a moment. ‘I suppose so,’ he said. ‘Though he looked to me like an odd choice for a hit job like that. You’d expect a more muscular yakuza type.’
‘So what did Vida tell you about her time in Hainan?’
Fergus sat down, facing Elly across the table, and ran his hand over his eyes. She was unsure whether he was wiping away a tear or trying to clear his head so that he could think back to his conversations with Vida. ‘She hardly told me anything,’ he said at last. ‘She wanted to. I know she wanted to, but when it came to the point, she always clammed up. I think she just hadn’t got to the stage where she could put her experiences into words. I know she met this young communist in Canton and went with him to Hainan, I guess it must have been just before Japan invaded the island, but I’m not sure. She said something about having been in the mountains with him. All I know for sure is that what she saw there left her horrified at the behaviour of the Japanese forces in China, but also somehow disillusioned with the Chinese communists. I think she felt that the local people had risked everything to fight for the cause, and that all their sacrifices had just ended up being exploited by the party hierarchy.’
He reached out across the table, took both her hands in his and said, ‘Elly, I’ve been meaning to say this for weeks. I need to tell you how sorry I am about what happened with Vida. I know it may be diffic
ult for you to understand — I don’t understand it myself — but Vida was just one of those extraordinary people whom you meet just once or twice in a lifetime. Sort of like an asteroid or a meteorite. She burned so bright, and I was drawn to the brightness. But it was just that momentary flash. I could never have spent my life with her, and she would never have wanted to spend hers with me. In the end, she was one of those people who never really connects to others. Not at a profound level. She kept herself to herself. She would always have been alone. Unless, of course, she’d managed to connect to her son — but I’m not even sure whether that would have worked out in the end. You’re the only person I want to spend my life with, Elly. You, and Jack now. Just the three of us together.’
Elly laughed. ‘We’re really going do have to do something about that name. We can’t keep calling him Jack,’ she said. ‘You’re going to have a week on the ship to Hong Kong with nothing better to do. You can spend the time thinking of a good name for our baby, and telegraph it to me when you arrive.’
Fergus looked at her, as though waiting for her to say something more, but she just squeezed his hands. At last he said, ‘I forgot to tell you, I had some good news yesterday. Frank Mullins from the South China Morning Post is going to be away in Europe for six months and says we can use his house in Hong Kong while we get set up. I’ve been there. You’ll love it. It’s got a beautiful little garden, and you can see the harbour from the terrace. I know it’s going to be really hard to uproot yourself again, but I think you’ll enjoy Hong Kong.’
Elly sighed. ‘I’m going to be sorry to leave this place,’ she said. ‘But at least in Hong Kong I won’t have to worry about the police finding Jack and deciding to take him away, or about any unwelcome attention from Mr Ogiri and his cronies.’
‘I’m not going to let this story rest,’ said Fergus. ‘I’m going to pursue it, see what I can find out. I owe it to Vida, and to ourselves and Jack too. We need to know what happened. But don’t worry, I’ll wait until we’re all in Hong Kong together before I try to publish anything.’
‘You don’t think I should take this photo to the police after all? Tell them what we suspect?’ asked Elly. ‘What if that young man we saw wasn’t involved in the killing after all?’
‘No!’ said Fergus. ‘No, Elly. Please don’t do that. The last thing we want is the police nosing around in our lives again. And they’d never believe an accusation about a big high heid yin like Ogiri. They’d think we were mad to suggest it. Even if we had some more convincing evidence, they wouldn’t want to know. They’ve got no interest in digging up the past.’
‘Is it the past?’ asked Elly.
‘You know what I mean. Anyway, my love, all I care about now is that you and Jack stay safe until we’re together again.’ He got up and kissed her on the top of her head. ‘And now I really do have to get on with my packing.’
He picked up the photo from the table.
‘You’re taking it with you?’ asked Elly.
Fergus paused for a moment. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Safer that way, don’t you think?’
CHAPTER 26
For the first week after Fergus left, Elly found it difficult to sleep. The baby was still waking every three or four hours wanting to be fed, and even when she drifted into uneasy sleep, Elly kept seeing a figure who rose unbidden from her memory. Oddly, that figure was not Vida. It was the young man in the student uniform, standing in the moonlight looking up at their house. Why had he brought the baby to them? If he was a murderer, why hadn’t he murdered the baby too?
In her most recent dream, Elly was sitting on an uncomfortable chair in the Lotus Bookshop, and, turning her head for a moment, found herself looking straight into the eyes of the young man who sat next to her. She could see in those eyes something that she couldn’t put into words, something that explained an enigma that she desperately needed to solve. But just as she opened her mouth to speak to the man, she realised that there was no one there. The chair next to hers was empty. She woke with a beating heart, and, to calm herself, reached out her hand to the baby, who lay on the futon beside her, and felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest.
Now that the weather was growing cooler and Jack was putting on weight, Elly was taking the baby out more often, carrying him in a baby sling, where she could feel his soft body against her breast. When she needed to go out alone, she hired her teenage English-language students to be babysitters. They proved to be much more enthusiastic about childminding than they were about studying English.
A week after his departure, Fergus telegraphed to say that he had arrived safely in Hong Kong. But either he had failed to come up with a good name for the baby during the voyage or had forgotten all about Elly’s request, because his message made no mention of the subject. Life slipped into a new routine centred on the baby rather than on Fergus. But Elly’s conscience was troubling her. She needed to know what had happened to that young man.
So, on a windy day when the gingko trees around Tokyo University were shedding their golden leaves across the pavement, she found herself standing again outside the police station, with her heart hammering. She was conscious of flouting Fergus’ advice. He would be angry if he ever found out. Perhaps it was a crazy thing to do. But the image of the young man just wouldn’t let her rest. She needed to at least try to find out what was going on, and she needed to tell the police that she thought she could recognize the face of the man in the photograph. What they did with the information was their own affair. But if she never told them, and that young man with the troubled eyes went to the gallows because she had remained silent, she would never be able to forgive herself.
She could barely stop her voice from shaking as she gave her name to the policeman at the front desk, and explained that she had come to offer some further information about the Toko Kasumi murder case. The man looked at her with a slightly puzzled expression on his face, and then went in search of his superior. Elly was expecting to see the middle-aged policeman who had interviewed them, or the fat Senior Constable Mita, but the man who eventually emerged from an inner office and ushered her into an interview room was a police officer whom she had never seen before — a rather good-looking man with a gold front tooth. The room she was shown into was unexpected too. It had comfortable chairs and even a small vase of artificial flowers on a table — a room for talking to victims’ families and friendly witnesses, rather than for interviewing suspects, she guessed.
The policeman took a chair facing Elly and, without waiting to hear what she had to say, leaned towards her with a smile.
‘Mrs Ruskin,’ he said, speaking rather slowly, as though uncertain how well she could understand his words. ‘I understand how very concerned you must be about the Toko Kasumi murder. We greatly appreciate all the help that you and your husband have given us. We had in fact been intending to contact you ourselves to provide you with further information about our investigations, but we’ve just been waiting to complete our final report on the case. I’m so sorry if this long wait has caused you and your husband anxiety.’
‘Not at all,’ said Elly, taken aback by his solicitude.
‘Although our internal report is not quite complete yet,’ the policeman continued, ‘I can tell you in confidence that the man whom you reported to us was indeed the murderer. He gave us enough information for us to be certain of that. Alas, though, before he could be formally indicted, we were forced to release him on a legal technicality, and we were unable to rearrest him because he absconded. Now,’ he continued hastily, ‘please don’t be alarmed by this. I can assure you that you are in absolutely no danger. As I say, we are still finalising some aspects of the investigation, but I can tell you privately with great confidence that this young man committed suicide less than twenty-four hours after he left our custody. Perhaps he felt remorse about his crimes, or perhaps he was just afraid of facing justice. I suppose we will never know now.’
Elly sat silent, remembering the moment in the Lotus Bookshop.
And again, when she had glanced across the street outside Vida’s apartment, and seen the young man sitting, staring at nothing, with the blue holdall beside him — the holdall that, she now knew, had contained a baby. She could have spoken to him, but she hadn’t. What might he have said if they had spoken? She wanted to ask the young man’s name, but was unsure if that would be appropriate.
‘So, was there anything else that you wanted to enquire about?’ asked the policeman patiently.
‘Well,’ said Elly. ‘Actually, there was one piece of information that I felt I ought to give to you, but I suppose it isn’t relevant anymore. Just something about the photographs . . .’
‘Photographs?’
‘Yes, you know. The photographs that Vida — Miss Toko — lent to my husband, and that he gave to you when we were interviewed. I think I’ve recognized one of the men in those photos, but, well, in the light of what you’ve told me, I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore.’
The policeman looked nonplussed. ‘Just one moment, please, Mrs Ruskin,’ he said.
He left the room, and Elly waited, fiddling with her wristwatch and studying the artificial flowers, which were supposed to be hydrangeas, but had been rather crudely made from silk that was now fading from blue to grey. ‘Perhaps he felt remorse about his crimes,’ the policeman had said. Crimes, plural. Did they think that the young man had kidnapped or even killed the baby too? She felt totally confused by the turn that events had taken. But at least there had been no explicit mention of the baby — no awkward questions.
At last, the policeman returned with a smile on his face.
‘I must thank you again, Mrs Ruskin, for all your very helpful cooperation,’ said the policeman. ‘I do understand that this has been a most upsetting and confusing time for you — and for your husband too, I am sure, but particularly for a lady like you. It is most unfortunate that you were caught up in this very distressing case, but I can assure you that you won’t be troubled by it anymore. And as for the question of photographs, all I can say is that this is obviously some sort of misunderstanding. I have checked very carefully with my colleagues and can confirm to you that we have absolutely no record of any photographs on our files.’
THE LANTERN BOATS an utterly gripping and heart-breaking historical novel set in post-war Japan (Historical Fiction Standalones) Page 24