by Asa Nonami
"What kinds of dogs and what kinds of wolves are crossbred to produce wolf-dogs?" Otomichi asked next. "There is, of course, the continental wolf or the Siberian wolf. Are they commonly used in breeding wolf-dogs?"
The import guy, who seemed a little nervous, nodded slightly at this and folded his hands in his lap. He had to be about the same age as Otomichi, thought Takizawa, and not the type to handle dogs; more like . . . one of those guys who show you around a model home. Guys like him—oval face, fair skin, businesslike and personable—gave the impression of being nice, regular fellows, but five would get you ten, below the surface they had their nasty, stubborn side.
"That's exactly right," said the guy. "There are all kinds of wolves. Our firm has a kennel in Alaska, and we import wolf-dog pups from there, in accordance with our customers' requests. The main kinds of wolves used for breeding are the arctic wolf, tundra wolf, timber wolf, and British Columbian wolf. The timber wolf, which is known for its large size and its resistance to cold, seems to be a popular choice for breeding."
"And they would be crossbred with ... ?"
"They are crossbred with local dogs. In Europe, German shepherds are the dog of choice, but at our Alaskan kennel we generally crossbreed wolves with huskies."
Having gone through his spiel, the import guy now offered them some green tea that'd been brought in by a female employee. Otomichi acknowledged the tea with a polite incline of her head, then immediately resumed her questioning. Maybe constitutionally the woman just never got thirsty. She never wanted anything to drink.
"Do you know how many wolf-dogs there are in Japan now?" she asked.
"Well, let me think…"
Takizawa studied a large photo on the wall. It was unmistakably a photo of a wolf, he thought, taken in a snowstorm. In the background was a dark grove of trees. Pelted by snowflakes and buried in a snowdrift up to its knees, the animal had white fur on its face, neck, and belly; the rest of its coat was varying shades of gray. It stood erect in the snowy expanse, face tilted skyward, as if howling. Its bushy tail hung low, its ears were laid back, its eyes were shut.
This was every inch a wolf, wasn't it? How could you call this a dog?
"... I can tell you the number of wolf-dogs imported through our firm. That would be approximately two hundred in all. There are probably some people importing wolf-dogs on an individual basis, and some of our customers have had success breeding wolf-dogs themselves, using stock purchased from us. I'm afraid I can't give you a more precise estimate than that."
"Is your company the only one involved in importing wolf-dogs?"
Takizawa was sitting back, sizing up the situation. How long this outfit had been in business he didn't know, but you had to wonder what kind of profit there was in importing two hundred wolf hybrids.
The import guy, as if reading Takizawa's mind, responded in the same mild tone: "This is not our primary business by any means. We deal mainly in food imports, including Alaskan salmon. While I wouldn't go so far as to say that importing wolf-dogs is something we do in our spare time, it is rather more of a sideline with us."
Takizawa raised his eyebrows and nodded, his mouth forming an "O," saying nothing. The import guy, who had been addressing Otomichi throughout the conversation, glanced over to confirm Takizawa's reaction, and then redirected his attention back at Otomichi. When the interviewer was a woman, did people always go out of their way to be this solicitous and oh-so-polite?
Takizawa sipped his tea, feeling a bit deflated, as Otomichi went on to her next question: What are the characteristics of a wolf-dog?
The man picked up the pamphlets lying beside him, took a sip of tea, and launched into another explanation: "By external appearance, wolf-dogs generally measure three and a half feet to five feet from head to rump, with a tail some 12-20 inches long. Their shoulder height is around 28-32 inches on average, so the head would come up to about here."
He placed his hand on his head, then slid it off to one side to demonstrate. For a moment, he stared into space as if an actual wolf-dog were in the room. Takizawa couldn't help feeling distaste at the whole concept. The import guy began another flowing explanation. With his head chock full of data, he was, yup, exactly like a salesman at a model home. Someone who gave the same spiel more times than he could count.
"Their weight varies quite a bit, ranging from around 45 pounds to 155-160 pounds for the larger subspecies. On average they weigh, I would say, about a hundred pounds."
A wolf-dog also had longer legs than regular dogs, and a more highly developed musculature, which gave it extraordinary powers of leaping; it could easily bridge a distance of five and a half yards. Wolf-dogs could run at full speed for twenty minutes; at a lower speed of twenty-five or thirty miles per hour, they could keep running for a considerably longer time. There were records of wolf-dogs covering 125 miles in a day; that's how tough they were. Unlike a regular dog's profile, wolf-dogs did not feature a hollow above the muzzle; a wolf-dog's muzzle, owing to its wolf heredity, was long and rather straight. The tip of its nose was large, and the sense of smell very advanced: they were reportedly capable of detecting the scent of prey one and a half miles away. The jaw was massive and highly developed, with biting power which—while no match for that of a tiger, puma, lion, or other large feline— was around twice that of a German shepherd, exerting a force of over 1,400 pounds per square inch.
If a pair of jaws that strong got hold of your skull, of course it'd he crushed.
Takizawa felt a chill come over him. Picking up a pamphlet distractedly, he was met by the face of a wolf-dog staring straight at him. What nut dreamed up the idea of crossing a wolf with a dog? If there were pets like these all over the place, what could be more frigging unsafe?
"While their bound and sense of smell are important distinguishing characteristics, what really sets wolf-dogs apart is the excellence of their memory and their intelligence. Presently there are wolf-dogs in training as police dogs, and I understand that they have a stellar record."
The guy went on talking. Next to Takizawa, Otomichi was leaning forward, all ears. Takizawa had gotten the point: wolf-dogs were great. Now he wanted his hands on the list of customers.
Otomichi spoke up. "If they are capable of undergoing training as police dogs, does that mean they have a tractable nature?"
The guy nodded eagerly. Oh boy. Now the conversation would drag on some more.
"Wolves are one hundred percent wild animals. Wolf-dogs are of course dog hybrids, but the greater the ratio of wolf blood to canine blood, the stronger that streak of wildness. It's better not to think of them as dogs; rather, think of them as a completely different animal. The ones that can be successfully trained as police dogs are those with a relatively weaker concentration of wolf blood, around eighty percent."
"What happens when the concentration goes higher?"
"Well, let's see ...," said the guy, smiling with pleasure. Apparently there was nothing Mr. Smooth liked more than the sharing the delights of wolf-dogs. "Wolf-dogs are highly intelligent, with a range of dispositions. In folk tales and fairy tales the wolf is usually cast as the villain, and we tend to think of them as savage and terrifying, but that's a mistake. Basically, wild animals are extremely cautious and timid. Wolves are the same. We call them 'shy.' They are fearful of strangers. They have delicate sensibilities, so they can also be friendly to humans who treat them kindly."
Wolf-dogs inherited these traits accordingly, again in proportion to the amount of wolf blood in their veins. Quite a few have been known to be human-hating and timid, unable to show affection to anyone but their owners, unable to turn into the sort of pet their owners wished for. Others, of course, have been known to be friendly and playful, even as, on the whole, they seem to live by their own rules. They aren't the kind of docile animal that people can mold into pets for their own purposes. Since wolves normally live in packs in the wild, wolf-dogs similarly require constant companionship and ample affection.
"Ample affection," re
peated Otomichi.
"If you treat a wolf-dog as a member of the family, shower it with affection, and gain its trust, it is capable of great things. Wolf-dogs are physically very gifted animals. But, to repeat, a wolf-dog does not think like a dog—it does not consider the defense of a human being to be its greatest aspiration in life. It has great pride and great wariness. A wolf-dog has allegiance only to someone it knows and trusts."
"Who would want to take on a hassle like that?" Takizawa interrupted, unable to contain himself.
The import guy smiled knowingly and nodded. "I appreciate what you're saying, Officer, but I think that if you ever saw one of them you would certainly understand the appeal. They have such enormous presence, if that's the right word—a kind of splendor that I would say even borders on nobility."
Takizawa snorted. This was not his idea of a fun pooch, but thanks anyway, pal.
"Yet even with a dog as splendid as all that," Otomichi soldiered on, "if someone used it for ill purposes, there's no telling what could happen, isn't that right?"
The smile disappeared from the man's face. "Why exactly are the police interested in learning out about wolf-dogs?" he inquired, showing unease for the first time.
Otomichi threw Takizawa a glance. "Ah, yeah," Takizawa began in a meaningless preface, and then proceeded to outline the incident at Tennozu.
Hearing this, the import guy sighed deeply. "I've been paying rather close attention to that story myself."
"Why is that?" asked Otomichi, swift as a bat.
The guy seemed flustered, looking from her to Takizawa and back again, shaking his head. "Well, I just mean that being in this line of work, you naturally prick up your ears at bad news involving dogs." The import guy frowned, and dropped his voice in a tone of deep melancholy. "We take it upon ourselves to ask our customers not to ever, under any circumstances, train their wolf-dog to be an attack animal. The wolf-dog's powers are, if I may say, a two-edged sword. Unless care is taken to prevent it, a wolf-dog has the potential to turn into a monster beyond human control. Of course, this is not to say that any of our customers, who want a wolf-dog so much that they will order one from Alaska, would ever—"
"Do you have a list of the customers you have supplied with a wolf-dog?" Otomichi asked.
Silence.
Bingo. She finally asked the right question. Takizawa shifted his weight in the overly comfortable sofa and tugged on the hem of his coat. The leather screeched as he shifted position. With a doleful expression, the guy sighed and said, "I'll make you a copy."
"Tough crowd," Takizawa muttered after the import guy left the room. "Who the hell would want to keep an animal like that?"
Otomichi, her nose buried in one of the pamphlets, nodded without speaking. Just the way you'd brush off a kid who asked a dumb question. He itched to complain again, but since he'd decided to try a change of tactics with her, he bided his time.
Before long the import guy was back with a copy of the customer list. Looking at Otomichi, he asked in evident disbelief, "Do you really mean to tell me that that death reported in the newspapers was the work of a wolf-dog?"
"We can't be sure. But we do know that animal hair found at the scene of the crime doesn't match that of any known breed of dog, and that the victim was attacked by a very powerful animal. Also, tracks found near the scene of the crime were more wolf-like than dog-like. More oval than round."
Flipping through the pages of her notebook, she read aloud the measurements they'd been given in the morning's meeting.
The import guy now wore a look of deep sadness. "It's certainly true that the higher the concentration of wolf blood, the more a wolf-dog resembles a wolf in personality and appearance. It's not surprising if the tracks are more like those of a wolf than a dog. Tracks that big would have to belong to a fairly sizeable dog, and—if they really are oval—it's probably reasonable to assume that it was a large wolf-dog. Since, of course, there aren't any pure wolves in Tokyo."
"Could you tell us how to distinguish a pure wolf from a wolf-dog that's, say, ninety-nine percent wolf?"
"Hmm, with that high a concentration of wolf blood . . . Well, you know how there are fleshy pads on the back of the paw? In a wolf, those are black, but in a wolf-dog, they would probably be a different color."
"Would that be the only difference? "
"You like dogs, don't you," the import guy said, looking expectantly at Otomichi with a sense of simpatico as the conversation drew to a close.
"Yes, I do," she nodded.
If she likes dogs, I'm for cats, thought Takizawa dourly. Better yet, monkeys.
As they stepped outside, Takizawa stretched and looked at Otomichi. "So what do we do next? Check out the owners?"
Looking intently at her notebook, she said expressionlessly, "I wanted to talk to you about that. That would be one possibility, but—"
"Hold it." His cellphone was vibrating. It was headquarters.
"Where are you now?" the desk staff sergeant asked.
"In Ginza. We found something called a wolf-dog that's not exactly a wolf, but—"
Suddenly there was a new voice on the line. "Hello, Takizawa? Miyagawa here."
Takizawa answered tautly, "Yes, sir."
"A housewife has been killed in Kawasaki, same MO as Tennozu. I want you to go straight to the scene of the crime."
"Housewife in Kawasaki?"
"Report just came in. Other detectives are on their way. Get over there right away. Here's the address..."
Takizawa wrote it down, hung up, and hurried back to Otomichi. She was about to speak, but he grabbed her by the arm and said, "Let's go. Where's the closest station?" Damn, he thought, I hate the train.
"Sir?" Otomichi asked, flustered. "Where are we going?"
"To Tama Ward," he said as they hurried down the stairs to the subway.
"By way of Shinjuku, on the Odakyu line." His gut was making the dash a little hard on him, but he didn't slow down.
"I think the Chiyoda line is faster. Transfer at Omotesando," Otomichi shouted so he could hear. "The two lines share the same route."
Takizawa went through the wicket and was about to set off in one direction when he felt a tug on his elbow. For a moment, he was startled.
"Take the Ginza line. This way." Otomichi's voice was utterly calm, and she headed off in the opposite direction. Relying on the sight of her weaving with the fluid grace of a goldfish through the rush of passengers, Takizawa hastily followed her.
As they waited for the train on the platform, she leaned toward him and whispered, "What happened in Tama Ward?"
Takizawa, still agitated by the news, looked around to be sure he would not be overheard. "It happened again. This time it was a housewife."
Otomichi's expression underwent a transformation, hardening, toughening before Takizawa's eyes. He looked away reflexively. For some reason, in his mind her face overlapped with the image of the wolf he had seen in the Ginza dog-importing office. A creature that had gone back to its wild, savage state, silver fur around its neck, fleshy ears erect, tiny round eyes staring. Fuck you, Takizawa almost said aloud, don't look at me.
"I wouldn't want to be burned to death," Takizawa did say out loud, "but being mauled to death sounds worse."
11
The scene of the crime was on a street in a new residential area that had been created by leveling part of a hill. The neighborhood was relatively uncrowded, with new, prefabricated houses mixed in among older homes; squeezed in between these were low apartment buildings and dormitories for bank employees.
By the time they arrived, the body had already been removed, and here and there clusters of housewives stood talking. Markers placed by the crime-scene unit indicated the location of pieces of physical evidence, and a chalk outline showed where the victim had lain. But there was so much blood in the street that the markers were practically useless, and what seemed to be chunks of flesh were strewn about. By the edge of the road a shopping cart, with a bunch of gree
n onions poking out, was flung on its side. The victim had been on her way home with her groceries.
Takizawa was spotted by a colleague inspecting the site along with investigators from the Kanagawa prefectural police. They greeted each other, and the colleague proceeded to brief Takizawa and Otomichi on the situation: "Victim was apparently attacked from behind. There were abrasions on the palms, knees, and jaw, the result of when she got knocked down. She was also bleeding from the head, and her neck was broken. Her windpipe was chewed out."
Takako felt her heart constrict. Secretly she was grateful that the body had been already removed. Hearing the report gave her a clear enough picture, and seeing the mutilated body would only be sickening. But more than anything, she did not want to be confronted with the evidence of what a wolf-dog could do.
"Same as Tennozu, huh?"
"Tooth marks look pretty big, manner of attack looks similar."