“Of course I won’t. But even twenty-seven thousand is quite high. Does it include shipping or something?”
“It’s just my fee for the tansu. The cost of sea post will be several thousand dollars more. Mr. Sharp told me he liked the piece, but wanted to check a few more shops.”
The fact that Charles, too, had balked at the price made me have a little more respect for the man. “He’s bought tansu from you in the past, right?”
“Yes, he has, and he’s always examined the pieces carefully. Why, I had to bring down the top section so he could look at the condition of all its sides. And he took every drawer out and examined them for nails and what-have-you.”
“He wanted to make sure all the drawers were original,” I said. “May I look, too?”
“Yes, please. If it will teach you something, I will be pleased.”
I pulled out one of the drawers from the bottom step. Its inside was smooth and cleverly fitted, rather than nailed together. I slid the drawer back into place, and then looked at it. From the outside, it looked as if the drawer was bigger than it actually was. What was causing the illusion?
“Is this a false-bottom chest?” I asked.
“I doubt it. It’s not usual for a staircase style,” Mr. Ishida said.
“But look at this.” I removed the drawer again in order to tap the bottom of the step’s interior. It made a hollow sound. I tried another drawer higher up and heard the same thing.
“Ah, good work.” Mr. Ishida, instead of being embarrassed at being caught out, seemed pleased. “Thanks to you, we have discovered that the chest is even more unique. I shall tell Mr. Sharp what you’ve found.”
“Oh, don’t tell him anything about me, please.” But what I was thinking was: Charles must already know.
The tansu would be the perfect carrier for smaller goods that he wanted to hide. And traveling as sea freight, it wouldn’t be subject to the high-tech scrutiny used for goods traveling by plane. Yes, Charles Sharp had eyeballed a tansu that could serve him handsomely. However, the fact remained that he hadn’t bought it yet. Until that happened, I’d have to hold my suspicions in check.
25
I was home an hour later. It was twilight, and the light from inside my apartment cast a welcoming yellow glow out toward me. Still, I took a glance over my shoulder as I put the key in the lock.
Regardless of outside opinion, I liked the feeling of having Hugh in my home. When I opened the door, I was hit again with the reassuring knowledge he was there—a briefcase propped against the tea table, a coat discarded on a chair, and from behind the bathroom door, an aroma of mineral salts from Hakone and the sound of rushing water.
“May I join you?” I called, already beginning to unbutton my blouse as I knocked on the door with the other hand.
Hugh opened the door, surprising me; he was wet from the bath, but wearing a robe and shaving.
“You don’t have to do that for me,” I said. “I like your rough side, especially at night.”
Hugh winked at me. “No time for that. I want you to come with me to a tea ceremony tonight. At Morita Incorporated.”
“Things must have gone fabulously if they’re inviting you to a tea party,” I said.
“We’ll be crashing it, actually. I convinced a friend from the British Consulate to give me his invitation.”
“What in the world—”
“I think what we might gain in knowledge of the corporate culture is worth the risk of any embarrassment. By the way, do you have a kimono that’s ready to go? I don’t know if they have to be ironed or anything like that—”
“No, they’re just folded. But, Hugh, it’s a tremendous amount of trouble to put one on. At least half an hour—”
“I’ll help you, then.” Hugh put down his razor and swept out of the room to get dressed in the suit and fresh shirt lying on my futon. He began pulling on his clothes, and kept talking.
“So, today was relatively calm. Charles didn’t ask me anything about my request to San Francisco for the transcript and tape. That probably means that his paralegal didn’t bother to tell him.”
“Let’s hope so,” I said. “What happened with the job offer?”
“Well, just for the fun of it, I asked Charles to elaborate on the terms. I shudder to tell you how good the money is.”
“How good?” I was bent over, putting on the tight silk socks that were the prelude to kimono dressing.
Hugh gave a quick laugh. “He offered me two hundred fifty thousand base, with bonuses tied to the success of the lawsuit. The COLA package per year—just our food and housing expenses, imagine—would be another four hundred thousand, if we live in Japan. And we’ll both get business-class tickets to travel home to visit relatives each year. There’s a children’s private school tuition benefit as well, which wouldn’t apply to us at this point, but maybe later—”
“You’re not thinking of taking it. Are you?”
“Of course I won’t, Rei. As I told you yesterday evening, I don’t trust the fellow. Even if I were tempted, I couldn’t go because I haven’t been at Andrews and Cheyne for more than a year. If I left, I’d look like a promiscuous job hopper.” Hugh sighed heavily. “But I kept him talking, because I want to know why he wants me so badly, all of a sudden. Since I’ve come on board, all they’ve had are major setbacks. The only thing I haven’t bollixed up was the meeting with Morita today.”
“Yes, tell me about that.”
“I will, once you start dressing—we’re running out of time. Where’s the kimono you’re planning to wear?”
So Hugh was dead set on my dressing up. I sighed and went to the small Sendai tansu in the corner of my bedroom.
“This is the most appropriate one I have,” I said, pulling out a neatly folded rectangle of purple silk. It had been woven just before the war, I knew from the dyes used and the loopy floral styling of the robe. I thought the kimono would be perfect for the New Year because it was patterned with pine, bamboo, and plum, the New Year’s trinity. There was a subtle stain on the side that I’d have to camouflage by stuffing that section into the obi sash. Ah, the obi. That would be harder to find, as I didn’t have the original one meant to be worn with this kimono. I dug around in another drawer and came up with nothing. Then I remembered I’d hung a sash on the wall of my living-dining room, one patterned in red and gold chevrons with some green pine motifs embroidered throughout. It was not a perfect match, but a good enough one.
I slipped on a simple pink underrobe. When it came time to tie its belt, Hugh helped me with one of his crazy sailing knots. As tight as he made it, I knew it wouldn’t come loose. And the fact was, I liked the feeling of his hands sliding against my skin, even though we were going out and it would be hours before he could untie the belt.
“Morita is based in Kawasaki, so we hired a car and rode out together,” Hugh said, seemingly oblivious to how much I was enjoying being dressed by him. “During the trip, Charles prepped me on what he wanted to accomplish. It was agreed that I’d do most of the talking.”
“Why you?” I didn’t mean to sound rude, but I was startled. Charles had acted like Hugh’s boss every time I’d seen him.
“Yes, that was a surprise to me, too,” Hugh said ruefully. “But I think Charles was right. He wanted to create an impression of power—that he was so important he didn’t have to speak, except to make decisions at the end.”
“I see. I’ve seen that done in Japanese business settings.”
“Right, and it certainly was the modus operandi when we got there. Gorgeous skyscraper building, by the way—but you’ll see it tonight. The boardroom was quite dark—a bottle-green color, with a black table that must have been twenty feet long. There was a little doily with a glass marking each place. When we went in, I counted them up right away and realized there were fifteen of them and only three of us. It was interesting, psychologically—it created the sense that we were supplicants.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, reaching
out to caress his face.
“It was quite intense. Turn around, I’m still trying to tuck the robe so it’s level.” I turned, and Hugh continued. “We had to wait for them—another clever move—and then they all came in. Business cards were exchanged. I was made aware that their most senior official in the room was the vice president for legal affairs.”
I raised my eyebrows. “So they were taking you seriously.”
“Yes. They had an interpreter, too, of course. He offered us greetings and good wishes right away, pointing out the longtime friendship between Morita Incorporated and the United States—they claim to be responsible for the employment of five thousand people in the U.S. Around the room, they had framed photographs of various magic moments, such as the many times their company presidents met various American presidents. I had a sense that we should have brought our own picture album, but what could it have shown—all of us together with your parents at Christmas, or perhaps you and I, frolicking together in the surf in Thailand a few years past?”
“What you could have shown would have been photos of the Morita Mine survivors,” I said severely. “Rosa, who looked so beaten-down and awful, and poor Ramon, with his eyes sewn shut.”
“But we have to protect their identities, remember?” Hugh said. “I got to the point. I started off just talking about the basis of the lawsuit we’re working on, and they listened quietly. Then the vice president said, in the most sympathetic voice imaginable, that our firm is surely doing an honorable thing, but it has nothing to do with Morita—that the company never had mines in the Philippines. I then handed over some photocopies of old legal documents proving otherwise, and someone else at the table spoke up. They couldn’t disagree that the documents were their own, but they stressed that after the war the company was reorganized, with new management and goals.”
“Complete denial.” Well, I wasn’t terribly surprised.
“After that, I dropped the bombshell about our concern—and the police’s—about the murder and the attempted murder of our plaintiffs. Either they really didn’t know about it, or they knew too much. There was so much sweat in the room, Rei, that the walls were practically dripping. And this is in January, not the rainy season.”
“Ha-ha,” I said, not laughing. “Actually, you might have gone too far, if you embarrassed them that much.”
“They said they’d call to schedule another meeting. At their managing director’s convenience.”
“This could go back and forth a long time. But time is what you need.” I was fully dressed now, and searching for a wrap.
“I suppose so. Unless, of course, the time we waste results in the deaths of more plaintiffs.”
I stopped. “Do you really think they’re involved?”
“They have a very strong motive to want to suppress the truth about their past. But if they’ve hired someone to kill plaintiffs, they’ll almost certainly be found out somewhere along the line. And I don’t think they’re stupid enough to commit corporate suicide.”
We walked out, headed toward the train station, my zori sandals making quiet clapping sounds against the pavement. It was an age-old sound that I loved. Suddenly, I felt as if I had gone back in time—the combination of kimono and shoes forced me into a slower, mincing gait. Hugh had gotten a half-block ahead of me before he realized I couldn’t keep up.
“Sorry.” He walked back to me. “I’ve been running on too long. I imagine that you have things to tell me.”
So, I told him about everything, except my trip to the Imperial Hotel. I spent the most time on Ramon Espinosa’s situation, because I thought Hugh could help with the power of attorney document. Hugh explained that due to his situation of being a foreign lawyer, he couldn’t write a legally binding document. And it would be better for a Japanese lawyer to write a contract binding Japanese people, he thought. He gave me the name of Mr. Harada, a local lawyer he’d known for years.
“Good, I’ll follow up on that tomorrow,” I said. “I also have your cell phone back from Chika. After I saw her, I visited Mr. Ishida. He showed me the tansu Charles is contemplating buying. It’s an early-nineteenth-century, seven-foot-high staircase chest.”
“Sounds nice. Must be obscenely expensive, though.”
“Thirty thousand dollars. The lacquer is original, which is quite extraordinary, and it has another interesting feature, too: false bottoms underneath each step.”
“Really. Enough room to store a few ingots?”
“A few. But if there’s really a treasure-load of gold somewhere, the tansu wouldn’t have enough room.”
“He might just want it for the sake of collection,” Hugh said.
“Maybe. I heard he’s still shopping around. Maybe he’s going to buy multiple tansu chests with fake bottoms for storage purposes.” I changed the topic. “By the way, will Charles and Eric be meeting us tonight?”
“No, ah, I actually didn’t mention what we were going to do tonight. Charles had already told me that he’s busy with some appointments at antiques shops, and Eric will go with him to translate.”
I stopped and looked at Hugh. “That’s a close relationship. Have you considered that they might be partnering in a hunt for gold?”
“I suppose it could be,” Hugh said. “It would go against all the ethics that lawyers are supposed to abide by…”
I snorted. “The average American would argue that dropping all ethics in pursuit of gold is typical conduct for a lawyer. The question is, Who would be holding the reins? I’d guess Charles, even though Eric might have been the one who came through with the information about where the gold lies.”
“Well, the culprit, if there is one, will become clear once the transcriptions arrive from San Francisco. But tonight, we have Morita Incorporated to investigate. I’m eager to get your impression.”
“How so? What do you want me to help you accomplish at the party?” I gestured toward my brilliantly colored kimono. Dressed like this, there was no chance of being a wallflower.
“I thought you might introduce yourself. Make the rounds, as I’ll be doing.”
“Whom shall I say I am?” I mused. “Your fiancée? The prodigal daughter of an old Imperialist family? A struggling antiques dealer? None of it is particularly impressive.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. But might I suggest that your past life as a part-time journo might serve nicely, especially since you’re currently writing an article about Japanese history.”
“But that’s just a family history project!”
“How will they know? And if it’s good enough, maybe you’ll publish it somewhere.”
“Hmm. I suppose I could hint that I’m delving into the history of wartime Japan. That might be enough to do the trick.”
The train came barreling in, so I wasn’t able to meditate on whether this was the kind of white lie that was appropriate under Buddhist law, or something else altogether.
26
As Hugh had said, Morita’s corporate headquarters were not in Tokyo, but Kawasaki—the more industrial city just to Tokyo’s south. It made sense because of the electronic goods that Morita made; but it also raised my hackles some.
“Kawasaki. That’s where you were steered by the phantom phone caller on the day you arrived in Japan,” I said as we rode in a taxi toward the address Hugh had on the invitation card he’d borrowed from his friend.
“Right. But that call was from an American woman,” Hugh pointed out.
“It could have been an American woman who works for Morita. Lots of Americans work for Japanese companies. We both did.”
The taxi slowed and finally stopped in front of a tall, mirrored skyscraper. I hadn’t known buildings in Kawasaki could be as big as Tokyo’s—that was my chauvinism at work. But this one, a perfect I. M. Pei design or imitation, was just as big and stylish as anything I’d seen in Tokyo’s Minato-ku district: a glittering, inky pillar at night, though it must have been a dazzling silver earlier in the day. At present, it looked sini
ster and elegant—just the kind of place that made me feel as if I would trip in my zori going through the door.
There was a greeter at the door, a dour-faced man in a black suit, who looked us over and finally nodded. I tried to pretend that we had been invited, and had the right to stand in the huge golden foyer filled with abstract art on the walls and a stunning, fifteen-foot arrangement of pine, bamboo, and plum in the center of everything. I walked forward a few paces to see the sign next to it, and blanched. The arrangement had been designed by Takeo Kayama, a past boyfriend who was the new headmaster of the Kayama School.
I hoped that we wouldn’t see Takeo here. That would be all the stress I needed, on top of what I already felt. I kept my gaze down as we slowly snaked toward a door at the back of the lobby, from behind which I could hear strains of koto music. This was the tea ceremony room, I guessed.
The line of guests, who were overwhelmingly Japanese, moved at a slow pace toward the room. Practically everyone was silent, reminding me of the atmosphere on the subway in the morning. Here we were, a mass of people being moved at a deliberately slow pace, ostensibly to relax and renew with a cup of tea.
A few minutes later we were at the entrance to the tea ceremony room. I could see it behind a handsome room with birch cases designed to hold shoes: a huge room featuring green walls flecked with gold and spotless tatami mat flooring edged in orange-and-green brocade. People had seated themselves, husbands next to wives, in a proper kneeling position in an exact square. In the center of the room five women wearing simple yet expensive kimonos moved like slow butterflies to each of the waiting sitters. The women’s steps were slow and deliberate; each was carrying a small earthenware teacup. The tea ceremony hostesses sank to their knees and each offered a cup to a guest, smiling and bowing almost to the floor. The guests bowed back with considerable ceremony and made a gesture of showing the cup to the person on their left, who reacted admiringly. Then the cup was picked up, rotated, and sipped.
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