The Man With The Red Tattoo

by Benson, Raymond

  But Bond and Tanaka had a pretty good idea.

  Now they sat in the small office that overlooked the busy commercial district and worked on tying up loose ends. Tiger typed on a PC in an effort to identify the strange dwarf they had seen and Bond watched the news on television, waiting for the expected story on CureLab.

  “My agents have confirmed what I suspected all along,” Tiger said, punching up a report on his computer. “The so-called private individuals who own the twenty per cent of CureLab stock are all on the board of directors of Yonai Enterprises.”

  “What a surprise,” Bond said. “That fits with the news we got last night. Shinji Fujimoto sold his shares the day before he was killed. That makes Yonai a significant shareholder of CureLab. Pieces of the jigsaw are falling into place. I wonder if our little killer in Kamakura is one of the shareholders.”

  “I’m telling you, he was a kappa,” Tiger said facetiously, hoping to get a rise out of Bond.

  “Would you shut up with that kappa nonsense? Look, I think it’s coming on.”

  The first thing that appeared on the screen was the logo and name, “Yonai Enterprises.” The reporter said, “Big news in the business sector today. Yonai Enterprises, a Sapporo-based conglomerate, has announced a merger with CureLab Inc., a Tokyo-based corporation. The move was not a surprise to analysts, as Yonai had made several public bids for acquisition of the company that had been run in recent years by Englishman Peter McMahon. Peter McMahon and his family died of an unknown illness eight days ago.”

  Peter McMahon’s portrait flashed on the television.

  “The deal was further complicated by the murder of CureLab vice president and acting chairman Fujimoto Shinji yesterday in Kamakura. He had stunned his board of directors the day before at an emergency meeting by announcing that he had sold his own twenty per cent of CureLab stock to Yonai Enterprises.”

  They watched as a familiar scene appeared. It was Shinji Fujimoto’s Toyota Celsior, parked on that side street in Kamakura. Police tape was stretched around it and several uniformed men could be seen hovering around.

  The programme cut to a clip of Yonai’s president, Masuzo Kano, speaking into a microphone and saying that together the staff of Yonai Enterprises and CureLab would work to reach even greater heights than either of their two companies had done thus far.

  The reporter continued, “Police are not saying if Fujimoto’s murder is related to organised crime. Yonai Enterprises has long had to fight the accusations by some that it is allegedly involved in yakuza business.”

  A new clip: Yasutake Tsukamoto, walking with bodyguards in front of his office in Sapporo. Several reporters hounded him. Bond recognised him from the file that Tanaka had given him.

  “No comment. Go away,” Tsukamoto said into the camera.

  The kaicho got into a Mercedes as the picture cut back to the reporter. “CureLab Inc. is known for its work in pharmaceuticals and cures for diseases. Kano-san says that the company will fit in nicely within the chemical engineering areas of Yonai Enterprises. Now on to sports …”

  “There you have the motive,” Bond said. “Fujimoto was killed once he’d sold his shares and agreed to the merger with Yonai. The yakuza is behind it all. They orchestrated the McMahons’ deaths all right.”

  “I agree with you, but all we have to go on is speculation,” Tiger replied. “No proof. Ah, wait, here we may have it.” He punched up a new e-mail. “The report on the bonsai waterfall came in. You were right, Bondo-san, there were traces of mosquito eggs and shed pupal skins in the reservoir where the water sits. Mosquitoes need water to hatch, right? Since the motor had malfunctioned, the water had been still for a week. That was enough time to hatch those eggs, apparently. The question is, did someone put those eggs inside it? And did Fujimoto know about it?”

  “Tiger, it has to be the answer. It was part of his grand plan to sell his stock to the yakuza. I wonder what they promised him besides a great deal of money.”

  “He did not even receive that in the end,” Tiger observed. He read some more of the report. “The egg remains and other organic material have been sent to toxicology to see if they can determine if the virus came from there.”

  “I think we have to go on the assumption that it did. Someone has invented a deadly biological weapon with an ingenious delivery system—those mosquitoes. It takes a molecular biologist to do something like that, doesn’t it? Someone like Fujio Aida? With everything I saw at CureLab about mosquitoes, can you have any doubts?”

  “Aida’s probably capable of creating the virus. It took the merging of Yonai and CureLab—their separate technologies—to make this weapon.”

  “But there had to have been insiders at CureLab for some time. The McMahons were killed last week so if Yonai or the yakuza were responsible for this, they would have had to possess the virus technology before yesterday.”

  “I think we know who the insiders were, Bondo-san,” Tiger said, his eyebrows raised.

  Bond nodded and said, “Shinji Fujimoto and Fujio Aida. Tiger, this weapon—we have to stop whatever these people might want to do with it next and destroy it. You don’t want another incident like the sarin gas subway attacks a few years ago. I suggest that you set up a meeting with a mosquito expert as soon as possible. We need a crash course in insect biology.”

  “I agree. I must consult with my colleagues at headquarters and inform them of our hypothesis. If this is true, then the yakuza has become even more dangerous than ever.”

  He picked up his mobile and made a call.

  Headquarters was located in Kasumigaseki, the district adjacent to Nagata-cho, where the Japanese Diet Building sits. It was an unusually nondescript government building on the exterior; however the interior possessed an energy that Bond thought was reminiscent of the Tsukiji Fish Market. The only difference was that the personnel wore business attire. The level of beehive-like activity was just as chaotic at the Koan-Chosa-Cho as it had been at the market; but once again, when Bond looked closer he could see the order and mechanical efficiency of the Japanese people at work.

  Reiko Tamura had quickly arranged to bring in an entomologist to give them an overview of mosquitoes. She had been discharged from the hospital when Bond was in Kamakura and had reported for duty, even though she had been given a few days’ leave.

  “This is Dr. Okumura,” Reiko said, introducing an unusually tall, slender woman in her thirties. Tiger and Bond bowed to her and exchanged business cards, then the four of them went into a conference room.

  “I have been studying the samples that Tamura-san provided to me,” the doctor began, “and I have come to the conclusion that the mosquitoes involved here are Aedes aegypti. This is a species that lays eggs above water and can breed in small containers. The eggs can remain dry and survive for a considerable amount of time and they hatch when they come into contact with water.”

  “Instant mosquitoes, just add water,” Bond said.

  “Something like that,” she said. She showed them pictures of mosquito eggs. They resembled black caraway seeds. “It normally takes a week to ten days for them to go through the cycle from eggs to adult mosquitoes; some species take a week or more longer. Eggs hatch into larvae that live in water for several days. Stagnant, standing water is the best environment for these things.”

  “So it was fairly easy for mosquitoes to breed inside that bonsai waterfall contraption,” Bond said.

  “Yes, as long as they had food. Larvae eat just about anything with protein, usually microscopic organisms that live in the water. The larvae eventually become pupae and then after a few days, the adult mosquitoes emerge. The females are the only ones that bite. They immediately need to find a blood host, which gives them the protein needed to lay eggs. The male mosquitoes feed off things that provide sugar and are basically harmless to humans. The males and females can mate at any time after they emerge from the pupal state. Females live longer than the males, so some entomologists call them ‘red widows.’ ”
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  “I’ve known a couple of those in my time,” Bond muttered.

  “How long do the adult mosquitoes live?” Tiger asked.

  “Males live less than a week. Females can live longer if they’re not killed by the elements, slapped by a human hand or eaten by other creatures, which is what usually happens. Very rarely do we see mosquitoes live to be a ripe old age which conceivably could be three or four weeks.”

  Bond asked, “If someone were to have the ability to change the genetic structure of a mosquito, what advantages could be gained?”

  Dr. Okumura shrugged. “I understand that many companies in the pesticide business are working on that type of technology. If you could genetically engineer a mosquito not to bite, I suppose that would be good, yes?”

  Bond frowned. “But if that is possible, then is it also possible to genetically engineer a mosquito’s behaviour in other ways? Say, to bite even more zealously?”

  “Yes, that is possible.”

  Bond and Tiger shared a look.

  “Is this Aedes aegypti able to transmit diseases?” Bond asked.

  “Oh, yes,” the doctor said. “They are one of the main species that is a vector, or carrier, for yellow fever, encephalitis and West Nile disease. There are others, but this one is known for that.”

  “How does that work?” Reiko asked.

  “The female mosquito bites an infected host, becomes infected herself, then goes and bites a human. Simply a transference of blood.”

  “Wait a second,” Bond said. “So the mosquito isn’t born with the disease? It has to pick it up somewhere else?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Is it possible for mosquitoes to pass the disease on to their young, via the eggs?”

  The doctor made a face and said, “Some species can do that, but not this one. Thank goodness.”

  “Then is it possible for them to be genetically engineered to do so?”

  “Perhaps. Although I don’t know why anyone would want to do that,” the doctor replied.

  “Is there a name for that?” Reiko asked.

  “Yes, it’s called ‘transovarial transmission.’ ”

  Again, Bond and Tiger shared a look. This time Reiko joined them.

  The meeting with the entomologist went on for a few more minutes; Dr. Okumura left after offering her help for any other inquiries they might have. Bond had a look at some of the literature she had given them, found a picture of the Aedes aegypti, and studied it.

  “From the notes you found at CureLab the other night, Bondosan, it seems that they are working on producing a strain of mosquitoes that can transfer the disease to their eggs,” Tanaka suggested.

  “Red widows,” Bond added.

  “We’ve had a look at that slideshow that James-san brought from CureLab,” Reiko said. “There’s nothing suspicious in it. It’s basically a crash course on the biology of a mosquito. Toward the end it talks about how the company should genetically engineer the mosquitoes for the good of mankind. Knock out their reproductive instincts, or make them so they don’t bite. That kind of thing.”

  Tiger’s mobile rang. He answered it and listened, then he rang off and said, “We have found our kappa. I’ll be right back.” He got up and left the room.

  “Poor James-san,” Reiko said. “You must be in terrible pain. Those are nasty cuts on your face.”

  “It only hurts when I kiss someone,” Bond said. It was true that he still looked battered.

  “I would still kiss you, James-san, but I am afraid that you would find it painful,” she said.

  “Perhaps we should experiment?” Bond asked. “How’s the wound?”

  “Much better. Still hurts a little.”

  “Reiko?”

  “Yes, James-san?”

  “How about when I’m finished with this assignment, we go somewhere on a holiday, just the two of us?”

  Reiko’s eyes widened. “Oh my, James-san. I don’t know what to say. Where do you suggest we go?”

  “Is there somewhere you’ve always wanted to see?”

  She thought a moment. “I have always dreamed of going to the Hawaiian Islands.”

  “What a coincidence. I have too. Hawaii it is. Will you think about it?”

  She nodded quietly and looked down as Tiger came back into the room.

  “Look what I have,” Tiger said as he went to the computer and inserted a floppy disk into the drive. He used the mouse and brought up an image of the kappa killer. “This is him.”

  “It certainly is,” Bond said.

  “His name is Junji Kon. Nickname: ‘Kappa!’ He has a police record, all right. Kon was an orphan; his parents probably got rid of him because of his deformities. Historically in Japan children who were born deformed were either killed or left to die somewhere. It was a sad fact of life. Junji Kon managed to survive, working in a circus until he was in his teens. That’s when the arrests began. Shoplifting, burglary, assault and a number of more serious charges. He was arrested once for murder but was released for lack of evidence. He was known to be a shatei, or younger brother, of the yakuza by the time he was twenty. Sometimes the yakuza will accept misfits from society because they’re the only family that will have them. It makes sense.”

  “Indeed.”

  “It says here that Kappa is very good with a knife and always carries a Balisong, what we call a butterfly knife.”

  “I’m familiar with it,” Bond said. It was a nasty weapon used by many gangs in the Far East. It consisted of two hinged handles that fitted around the blade, which could be exposed by spinning one handle around in an arc with a flick of the wrist. Bond had seen men who could manipulate the Balisong with blinding-fast manoeuvres.

  Tiger continued, “Because of his size, he is adept at stealth skills. In the circus he performed as a freak in a sideshow but also as a magician’s assistant.”

  “That explains why he seemed to appear and disappear at will in Kamakura,” Bond said. “He walked out of that Buddha under our noses and we didn’t notice.”

  “It also says that Kappa is suspected of being a hit-man for the Ryujin-kai. Very interesting. I will file a report stating that we suspect him of being Shinji Fujimoto’s killer. He will be wanted for questioning.”

  “If anyone can find him,” Reiko said. “Where does he live?”

  “It does not say. He is known to be in Tokyo but has been seen in Sapporo as well.”

  Tiger’s phone rang again. He rolled his eyes and answered it. He listened and said, “Hai!” He hung up and said, “There is news about the summit conference. They’ve finally picked a site.”

  “It’s about time,” Reiko said. “It’s only six days away.”

  “It is to take place where I suggested. It is a remote location in the Inland Sea, on Naoshima Island. It is just off the shore south of Okayama, just east of the Seto-Ohashi Bridge. It is perfect for a G8 meeting. Benesse Corporation bought a portion of the island and turned it into ‘Benesse Island’ and they built a beautiful art museum and hotel there called Benesse House. It is one of Japan’s little treasures that not too many people know about. The conference will be held at the art museum and the guests will stay in the lodgings there.”

  “When do we have to be there?” Bond asked.

  “The day before. My people will already be on the island days earlier, of course, to make sure that security is well placed. This location is top secret, so I cannot imagine that the threats we have received can be credible. Still, one cannot be too careful. I have been put in charge of the security. And as this is an international gathering, I have made you my second in command, Bondo-san.”

  “Thanks, Tiger. I’m honoured,” Bond said dryly.

  “You are welcome!” Tiger said, enjoying the moment.

  Bond looked back at the mosquito documents that were on the table. “You have people in Sapporo, don’t you?”

  “Of course. I have a very good man in Sapporo. He’s Ainu, a very interesting fellow.”

 
Tiger was referring to the race of people who are believed to be the original inhabitants of Japan. The Ainu live mostly in the northern parts of the country and in the Kuril Islands.

  “I think it’s time for me to go north and try to find Mayumi McMahon,” Bond said. “Put a word in to your man that I’m looking for her and see what he can dig up. I’d also like to put in a visit to this Hokkaido Mosquito and Vector Control Centre. Those posters I saw at the CureLab office came from there. Where is Noboribetsu, exactly?”

  “That’s a resort town south of Sapporo with a lot of hot springs and spas,” Reiko replied. “Hotels. Tourists. The Hokkaido Mosquito and Vector Control Centre is a public health facility located just outside the town.”

  Tiger said, “Very well. We shall send you to Hokkaido, Bondo-san.

  I think you should have Miss Tamura accompany you, what do you think?”

  “I’d be delighted,” Bond said. “It helps to have a native speaker along for the ride.”

  Reiko blushed again and looked away. “I will have my assistant check on flights,” she said as she fiddled with her Palm Pilot. “When do you want to leave?”

  “Today if possible,” Bond said. “But no flights. I have a feeling that our friends in the Ryujin-kai might be watching the airports. Let’s take a train. We can do that, can’t we?”

  Reiko shrugged. “Sure. There’s an overnight train from Ueno Station. We could have sleeper compartments. It’s not as fast but it gets us there.”

  “I adore train travel,” Bond said. “Book two sleepers. For tonight.”

  FOURTEEN

  NIGHT TRAIN

  REIKO WAS SUCCESSFUL IN SECURING TWO SLEEPER SUITES ON THE TWOstorey Cassiopeia, touted as Japan’s most luxurious train. It travelled between Tokyo’s Ueno Station and Sapporo three times a week on a journey lasting seventeen hours. All carriages were first-class sleeper cars. The train also offered shower rooms, an observation lounge and an excellent restaurant car that provided French or Japanese dinners.