The Death Ceremony

by James Melville

  Noguchi grunted what might have been an apology. "All right. Look at it this way, though. Nobody but a genius could have brought off that killing with an ordinary sporting rifle. Doesn't matter whether he was after the Iemoto or the ambassador. See what I'm driving at?"

  Otani shook his head. "No, not really. Are you trying to tell me that a professional gunman brought a high-precision weapon into the country with him? I don't believe it, Ninja. The controls are too good. That sort of thing only happens in television films."

  "I'll spell it out. It must have been a sniper's rifle. A sharpshooter's weapon. Right? Who has hardware like that?"

  Otani could have kicked himself. "Of course! The Ground Self-Defence Forces!" The phrase still sounded unnatural on the lips of people who not only remembered but had as likely as not served in the Imperial Japanese Army, but Noguchi forbore to offer the sort of sardonic comment he usually made when the subject of Japan's modern armed forces cropped up.

  "Right. Not impossible, maybe. To pay a trained army sniper for a job like that. Unlikely though. And I agree it would be a hell of a job for a gaijin hit-man to bring a rifle into the country."

  "Why is it unlikely that it could have been a GSDF gun?" Otani had been rather pleased with the theory, and looked with some irritation at Noguchi, who stared back at him unhelpfully.

  "Of course it's unlikely. It's not like the war, you know, when they made us take them home on leave with us. Know anything about the sort of controls they have in the services nowadays on the storage and issue of weapons and ammunition?"

  Otani shook his head. "Not really. Very much like our own in the police ..." His voice trailed away as it finally dawned on him. "I'm sorry, Ninja," he said then with an embarrassed smile. "I must be getting senile. It simply never occurred to me. We have trained police sharpshooters and a few weapons for them here at headquarters ..."

  Noguchi nodded, and then passed a meaty hand over his bristly hair. "We have," he agreed. "So does Fujiwara, I dare say."

  Otani stared at him. "Get on to Forensic right away, Ninja. They haven't even confirmed the calibre of the damned bullet yet."

  Chapter 18

  having surreptitiously checked while she was away that he had more than enough money on him, Kimura beamed and even went to the extreme of rising from his chair as Mie Nakazato returned from her trip to the ladies' room and resumed her place at their table for two in the grill room at the Miyako Hotel. I was by the huge window, and from where they sat they could see the outline of the northern hills black against the sky, and the lights of the city away to the west. It was not only the gentle glow from the red-shaded candle on the table which made her eyes sparkle, Kimura decided. Watching her approach from the other side of the big room he noted her high colour, even though she was perfectly steady on her feet. French wine was alarmingly expensive at the Miyako, but he hoped and believed that Otani would pass the cost of the meal as a legitimate expense.

  The waiter hovered nearby. "Some coffee?" Kimura suggested. "And perhaps a cognac . . . or we might move to the bar after coffee." Miss Nakazato nodded, and Kimura interpreted it the way he preferred, dispatching the waiter for coffee only.

  "Thank you. It was a very nice dinner. But I must go home soon."

  "Really? Why, it's only a little after nine-thirty." The coffee arrived, and she made no reply until the waiter had finished fussing over them and again withdrawn. Then she smiled, rather sadly, Kimura thought.

  "After all, you've got what you wanted from me, haven't you?"

  Kimura thought quickly, then nodded his head. Mie Nakazato was obviously no fool, and he decided that for once straightforwardness might be the best tactic. "Yes, in a sense. You've been extremely helpful. And I have absolute confidence in your discretion. It would be dishonest on my part to deny that I asked you to meet me here this evening in order to obtain information from you. I'm a police officer, as you well know, and we're in the middle of a very tricky investigation. What you've told me about the Minamikunis is very helpful, and I'm grateful."

  To his great surprise a tear welled up at the corner of one eye. Mie Nakazato brushed it away almost angrily. "I wouldn't have told you all that about the sensei if I hadn't been so Worried about Casey-san."

  "It's what you told me about Mrs Minamikuni's sister that's even more important. I know it must have been difficult for you, believe me." He paused, then risked putting a hand on hers before continuing. She did not withdraw. "But that's not all. This is difficult for me to say. You must be able to see ... I find you very attractive. I was very excited at the prospect of seeing you again. Just personally, I mean. Nothing to do with police business. And I hope we can meet often, after all this is sorted out."

  At this the girl's lip curled in a wry smile. "I'm very nattered. But I expect your wife would have something to say about that." It was a point frequently put to Kimura in the course of early negotiations with new female acquaintances, and it always gave him satisfaction to deal with it. He smiled sweetly, and applied some pressure to the unresisting hand under his.

  "Maybe she would, if I were married. But I'm not. Never have been."

  Miss Nakazato's eyes widened. "Really?" was all that she said. Then and then only she slowly withdrew her hand.

  "I know what you're going to say. Most men of my age are married." She nodded.

  "And most men, even if they are, have no compunction about having affairs with other women if they can," she said.

  Kimura stirred the remains of his coffee with some violence. "Yes. Well, I can see that you must have become rather disillusioned in view of what you've told me about the late Iemoto. His own sister-in-law, too, you said."

  The girl nodded, still looking at Kimura in a way that disconcerted him. The discussion was indeed moving smoothly back to the subject of sex, but not in quite the promising way he had envisaged. "Among a great many others." It was time to score a modest point.

  "Well, she's a married woman, if it comes to that. It's my belief that women are just as ready to be unfaithful as men. They don't on the whole have as many opportunities, that's all." Kimura was drawing on his own experience, and felt he knew what he was talking about.

  A tip of Mie Nakazato's red tongue became visible as she delicately moistened her lower lip, to such erotic effect that Kimura felt himself responding physically, even while thinking that a gin and tonic and half a bottle of wine seemed to have revealed unexpected depths in one he had taken to be an intelligent but basically well-bred, conventional "office lady".

  "You may be right," she said. From where they were sitting Kimura could see the neon signs of several "love" hotels in the block between Sanjo Street in which the Miyako Hotel stands and the Nanzenji temple complex half a mile away at the foot of the wooded hills; and he began to wonder whether things might move faster than he had dared to hope.

  "All the same, you said that Mrs Minamikuni reacted very strongly when she found out that her husband was having an affair with her sister."

  Mie nodded. "Very strongly. I heard from Terada-san that when they were both young Mrs Minamikuni used to really dominate her younger sister. Then when her husband was elected Governor the younger one seemed to enjoy getting her own back. Here in Kyoto at least she's now more important than Mrs Minamikuni. Of course, any time she likes Mrs Minamikuni could wreck the Governor's career, though. She has letters her sister wrote to the sensei, you see. The Governor's political opponents could bring him down easily at the next election by publishing them."

  "Let's go to the bar, shall we?" Kimura was reluctant to interrupt the flow, but they were the only diners left and the staff of the grill room were beginning to hover in their vicinity. He need not have worried. Mie made no move to go home and two cognacs later was still happily analysing Mrs Minamikuni's relationship with her younger sister after her elevation to the status of wife of the prefectural governor and her affair with the late Iemoto.

  Kimura had matched Mie drink for drink, but prided himself on
his head for liquor. He was fascinated by Mie, who seemed to him to have many of the qualities of the Western women he normally sought out, while occasionally reverting to the demureness normally characteristic of well-brought-up Japanese girls of her age. He found the combination powerfully attractive especially when she was talking about sex.

  "Mrs Minamikuni didn't follow her husband's example, then? You haven't said anything about her having lovers."

  Mie laughed. "Well, she is fifty, you know."

  "That's not so old," Kimura protested stoutly. As he spoke there flashed into his mind the recollection of a most satisfying episode he had experienced several years beforehand in the company of a lady certainly old enough to be his mother, the wife of a Swiss businessman.

  Mie brushed a stray hair from her cheek. "No, you're right. She does take care of herself, and looks a lot less than her age. One day when Terada-san had been drinking he told me that Mrs Minamikuni had really wanted to marry Fujiwara-san and never really cared about her husband or anyone else. Maybe she sees him sometimes, but I don't think she has any lovers apart from him, if he is."

  Abruptly she stood up. "It's late. I must go." Something about her manner completely dissipated the lingering hope in the background of Kimura's consciousness of a visit to a love hotel. He was surprised to realise that this rather pleased him than otherwise, even or perhaps especially when Mie brushed past him after he too had stood up and he distinctly felt her warmth and noticed the fragrance of her perfume.

  They were silent in the taxi to her home, a solid middle-class house in the Kitashirakawa area not far from Kyoto University, but Kimura sensed that Mie was as aware of their proximity as he was. She bade him a friendly goodnight, once more the self-possessed secretary he had met for the first time only a day or so be-forehand, and he got back into the taxi in a thoroughly unsettled frame of mind. It would be frightful if at his age he was actually falling in love.

  Chapter 19

  YOU SPEAK AND UNDERSTAND JAPANESE Extremely well. I know that, Casey-san. And so I may want to put the occasional question to you myself. All the same I've asked Inspector Kimura here to come along with me and have a talk with you in English. You may feel more comfortable using your own language. All this must be a great strain on you." Otani nodded at the young Irishman and then turned back and watched as the incomprehensible babble of English with its leaps and swoops and alien melodies began. Otani caught a word here and there, of course. So many English words have found their way in more or less garbled form into Japanese that it would have been extraordinary if he hadn't. Nevertheless, it was in one way almost an advantage not to understand what was being said; it sharpened his powers of observation.

  Patrick Casey looked pale and tense, as well he might. The first mental note Otani made was to insist when the interview was over that he be permitted the use of an electric razor. The stubble on his face was that of a young man, and made him look much more a potential criminal than he did clean-shaven. The interview room was bare, furnished only with a table and three upright chairs and, being on the northern side of the building, was chilly, in spite of the old-fashioned radiator burbling and thumping against one wall.

  Casey was wearing jeans and a none-too-clean shirt, over which was a pullover rather worn at the elbows, and there were dark patches under his eyes. He did seem to relax just a little as Kimura spoke to him in what seemed to Otani to be a suitably friendly, encouraging way, and the convulsive rubbing of the thumb of his right hand over the four fingertips began to slow down.

  ". . . so you actually left Ireland a good many years ago," Kimura was saying. "Of course, you went home during the vacations while you were at the University of London, though." Casey nodded. "And then you applied for a Japanese Government Scholarship to come here for two years and were lucky enough to get one."

  "That's right," Casey said, and a wan smile illuminated his face briefly. "Not to study the tea ceremony, mind you. I don't think they'd have given me one for that. It was to study Japanese history of the sixteenth century. After language training they fixed up for me to be attached to Kyoto University. Well, I knew a bit about the history of the tea ceremony and how keen Hideyoshi Toyotomi was on it— you know who Hideyoshi was?"

  It was like asking an Englishman whether he's ever heard of Henry VIII, and Kimura grinned. "I'm no scholar, Mr Casey, but yes. I do."

  "Sorry. Well, I found myself here at the very centre of the tea ceremony tradition, and one of my Japanese professors arranged for me to call on the Grand Master . . . the late Grand Master, you understand. And he was very kind, and, well, before I knew what was happening I was hooked. So when he offered to give me lessons personally,

  well ... He shrugged, and Kimura nodded understandingly.

  It was not easy for Kimura. He knew well enough what Otani wanted of him, but no idea what had been said in previous sessions with Sakamoto. "I understand. So you found yourself in the Minamikuni household more or less by accident. All right. Let's turn to recent events. When did you first hear that the British Ambassador would be attending the special New Year ceremony last Sunday?"

  "Me? Why, I had no idea until the day itself. I knew there would be a lot of VIPs there . . . and I suppose, let me think, yes, I think somebody said something about some ambassadors while we were making the preparations, but people were more excited about the Governor of Kyoto Prefecture, I believe." Kimura rather hoped he might have an opportunity to convey this information to Sir Rodney Hurtling some time.

  "Let me put it another way. I presume the invitations would have been sent out and reply cards received well before the holiday period?" Kimura was certain that this would have been the case, and it would be a simple matter to confirm it with Mie Nakazato. Come to think of it, the Superintendent had himself received one and would remember when.

  Casey looked genuinely bewildered. "Why, I suppose so. I have no idea how these things are done."

  Otani noticed the expression on the Irishman's face and fired a question at him in Japanese. "Are you interested in politics, Casey-san?" Kimura was irritated by his intervention, but almost automatically began to interpret Otani's words into English, before subsiding as Casey replied in Japanese.

  "I've already gone into all that with the other Inspector."

  Otani had surmised as much, and merely nodded. He had wondered on their arrival whether to confront Sakamoto before seeing Casey, but had decided against. A confrontation would be necessary, but he wanted the benefit of Kimura's advice first. Otani had never been able to understand Kimura's taste for the company of gaijin, but had the greatest possible respect for his apparently magical insight into their psychological processes.

  After an uncertain pause during which Kimura wondered whether Otani intended to say any more, Kimura turned again to Casey. "We know that quite well, Mr Casey," he said in English. "You will very probably be asked the same questions by different police officers a good many more times yet, so you might as well get used to it. The Superintendent and I are particularly interested to know why you went to Kobe this week. You seem to have a knack of showing up wherever the British Ambassador goes."

  Otani noted that the friendly tone had disappeared from Kimura's voice, but was not displeased. Casey had been put comparatively at ease at the beginning of the interview, and there were good tactical reasons why they should turn a screw or two at this stage. Casey flushed, Whether with anger or embarrassment was not at first obvious, but his subsequent words sounded hot and intemperate to Otani.

  "I know what you're getting at, all of you. Holy Mary, there are millions of Irish. How many in the IRA? A few hundred? I neither know nor care who the British Ambassador is or where the terrible man goes or what he does—"

  "Why do you call him a 'terrible man', then?" Kimura enquired keenly, and Casey flapped a hand in exasperation.

  "Will ye listen to me? It's just an Irish expression, doesn't mean a thing. You made me get me rag out and ... He ran a shaking hand through his hai
r, at a loss for words.

  Kimura's ear was keen and he had in any case noted the broadening of Casey's Irish accent when he became excited. "All right, calm down. I'm not 'getting at' anything. I just want to know what you were doing in Kobe. You've given a perfectly acceptable explanation of your presence at the tea ceremony in Kyoto, and I'm willing to take your word for it at this stage that you didn't necessarily know that the ambassador was going to be there. On the other hand there was quite a lot of publicity in the Press—including the English language papers—about the European Community Trade Fair opening ceremony in Kobe."

  Casey clenched his fists in impotent frustration. "Even if I had gone there for their wretched Trade Fair I wouldn't need to feel apologetic, now would I? Ireland belongs to the Community. And I haven't heard that anybody got killed there." A look of stark horror spread over his face. "My God, did somebody get killed?"

  Kimura was tempted to let him think so for a while, but could not bring himself to do it. "No, Mr Casey. Nobody was killed."

  Casey closed his eyes momentarily, then straightened up and looked at Otani. "Superintendent Otani knows what I was doing in Kobe," he said then. "I went to meet an old friend of mine who was staying with him."

  At this point the artificiality of the situation became absurd to Kimura, and he switched to Japanese, turning himself to his superior. "I think we should continue this discussion in Japanese, sir," he said. "Mr Casey has just told me that he was in Kobe merely to meet the young lady you told me you invited from England."

  Otani nodded. "That's correct. I ran into them both not far from the Oriental Hotel." He looked at Casey. "I can certainly vouch for that," he said. "Though only you know what your movements were after I left you. I do know that Winchmore-san arrived back at my house in the middle of the night. I also know that you did not return to your hotel that night. Where did you stay, Casey-san?"