by David Peace
‘They missed you yesterday,’ I say. ‘Adachi and Kanehara. They were both asking where you were…’
Fujita bows ever so slightly and says, ‘I’m sorry. It couldn’t be helped. I had to meet someone…’
‘I hear you met Hayashi from the Minpo …’
Fujita laughs. ‘Minpo, Minshū, Akahata…’
‘What did Hayashi want?’ I ask him.
‘Blackmail. Extortion. Money.’
‘He tried to blackmail you?’
‘Not only me. You too.’
‘Me?’ I ask. ‘Why?’
‘He knows things.’
‘Things about you and Nodera Tomiji?’ I ask him. ‘Things about you and the murder of Matsuda Giichi?’
‘All lies,’ hisses Fujita. ‘All lies.’
‘Is that what you told Hayashi?’
‘I didn’t tell Hayashi anything,’ says Fujita. ‘I just wanted him gone and now he’s gone and he won’t be coming back.’
My stomach aches. My head aches. ‘Really?’
‘I paid him to go. To not come back.’
‘How much did you pay him?’
‘Forget it,’ smiles Fujita.
‘No,’ I say. ‘How much?’
‘Forget it!’ he snaps –
I nod. I bow to him. I thank him. Then I ask him, ‘But do you know where Hayashi is now?’
‘He’s running,’ says Fujita. ‘Running from Tokyo. Running from this life. His turn to change his name. To change his job. He’ll not be back, I promise you.’
I tell him, ‘Senju Akira wants a name from me.’
‘Whose name does he want?’ asks Fujita.
‘The name that set up Nodera Tomiji.’
‘Or what?’
‘Or he’ll make things difficult for me.’
‘So give him Hayashi’s name,’ laughs Detective Fujita. ‘Hayashi doesn’t need it any more.’
‘But how do you know he won’t come back?’
‘I just know,’ he laughs again. ‘Trust me.’
‘But how do you know…?’
Detective Fujita steps closer. Fujita whispers, ‘I told him I’d kill him if I ever saw him again.’
*
I have vomited in the toilets of Atago police station. Black bile. Now I stand over the sink. I spit. I wipe my mouth. I turn on a tap. I wash my face. I look up into the mirror. I stare into the mirror –
No one is who they say they are…
I stand up in front of the First Team, the Second Team and all the uniforms from the Atago, Meguro and Mita police stations as Chief Inspector Kanehara reviews the progress of the investigation to date; the searches of the two crime scenes in Shiba Park have been completed; the statements of the witnesses have been taken; the autopsies have been conducted; the initial stages of the investigation have been successfully completed bar the identification of the bodies, which is scheduled for later this morning; then the second stage of the investigation will begin –
I swallow…
‘All reports must be completed and submitted to Headquarters this morning,’ Adachi is now telling the First Team, the Second Team and the uniforms from the Atago, Meguro and Mita police stations. ‘Following the completion of the identification process, there will be a second meeting later today at 4 p.m.’
‘Attention!’ shouts one of the sergeants –
‘Bow!’ the sergeant shouts –
‘Dismissed!’
I run back to the toilets. I vomit again. Brown bile. I walk over to the sink. I spit. I wipe my mouth. I turn on a tap. I wash my face. I look up into the mirror. I stare into the mirror –
No one is who they say they are …
In the upstairs corridor I wait for Nishi and Kimura. I take them to one side. I ask them, ‘Have you written up your reports?’
They both nod. They both say, ‘Yes, we have.’
‘Then I want you to go to Toshima Ward,’ I tell them. ‘I want you to go to the ward office. I want you to ask again about this Takahashi of Zōshigaya, Toshima…’
Kimura nods again but Nishi says, ‘The First Team have already been up there.’
‘I know that,’ I tell him. ‘And I know they couldn’t find him or any mention of him, but his name on a statement of employment in his bag in that park is the only name we have found so far and, remember, our body is only bones and those bones need a name or they’ll always be bones…’
Nishi nods. Kimura nods. They both bow. They both turn to leave. I wait until they’ve gone and then I run. I run back to the toilets to vomit a third time. Yellow bile. I turn on the tap. I wash my face. I look up into the mirror. I stare into the mirror –
No one is who they say they are …
Ishida is wiping down the chairs and the tables, sweeping up the floor and the doorway, straightening our banner. Ishida looks up. He sees me. He flinches. Then he stands to attention –
‘At ease,’ I say as he bows and apologizes –
I ask, ‘Have you written up your report?’
He nods. He says, ‘Yes, I have, sir.’
‘Then I want you to do something for me,’ I tell him. ‘I want you to go to the offices of the Minpo newspaper…’
Ishida nods. Ishida bows again –
‘I want you to ask to see a Hayashi Jo…’
Ishida takes out his notebook –
‘Tell Hayashi to come see me…’
Ishida licks his pencil tip –
‘Now if he’s not there, I want you to find out who he has seen recently, where he has gone and when he’ll be back.’
Ishida nods. Ishida says, ‘I understand, sir.’
‘I’m depending on you, Ishida.’
Ishida nods. He bows. He turns to leave. Now I run again. Back to the toilets of Atago police station. I vomit again. Grey bile. Four times I have vomited in the toilets of Atago police station. Black bile, brown bile, yellow bile and grey. Four times I have looked into the mirror. Four times I have stared into that mirror –
I don’t want to remember. But in the half-light…
Four times I have screamed into the glass –
In the half-light, I can’t forget. I can’t forget…
I have screamed into my own face –
No one is who they say they are!
*
Inspectors Kanehara, Adachi and Kai have already left for Metro Headquarters, left in a car without me. Ton-ton. But I am glad. Ton-ton. I don’t care. Ton-ton. I want to walk. Ton-ton. In the shit. Ton-ton. In the dust. Ton-ton. In the dirt. Ton-ton. There is a typhoon approaching Japan. Ton-ton. But it won’t hit Tokyo. Ton-ton. Not this time. Ton-ton. Not this one. Ton-ton. But the air is still heavy with its approach. Ton-ton. The people wilting in the streets. Ton-ton. The stalls at the sides of the road quiet. Ton-ton. Men sat on their butts slowly shelling nuts to sell, slowly stripping down old wirelesses for parts. Ton-ton. Nut by nut, part by part, as slowly as they can. Ton-ton. Frightened to finish, frightened of having no more nuts to shell, of having no more wirelesses to strip, of having nothing more to do –
Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton …
Nothing more to do but think, think about food –
Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton …
My stomach aches. My head aches –
Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton …
My feet ache. My eyes ache –
Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton …
I curse! I curse! I curse!
Ton-ton. Ton-ton …
I curse myself –
Ton-ton.
*
I knock on the door to Chief Kita’s office. I open it. I bow deeply. I apologize profusely. I take my seat at the table; the same people, the same place, the same time and the same two conversations every day but today I am late so I have missed all their talk of the Tokyo trials and the rumours of purges. Now the talk around the table has turned again to SCAP, to their so-called reforms, all of which are based on the recommendations of fo
rmer New York Police Commissioner Lewis J. Valentine, and to the SCAP puppet Tanikawa, the chief of the Police Affairs Bureau at the Home Ministry –
‘He’s helping them purge good hard-working officers,’ Kanehara is saying, ‘and replacing them with policewomen, turning female clerks into police officers, giving them the authority to arrest suspects or to take them back to the stations…’
‘Tanikawa is a fool,’ agrees Adachi. ‘A fool and a stooge.’
‘He might be a fool and a stooge,’ says Kanehara, ‘but he’s not finished yet; have you seen the kind of reforms they want to include in the proposed new Police Bill? Not only policewomen with powers of arrest and detention, but an emphasis on the recruitment of college graduates above all other recruits…’
‘All communists,’ says Kai –
‘Exactly,’ continues Kanehara. ‘And then let’s not forget the centrepiece of the Bill; the prevention of unreasonable or unjustifiable detention in police cells or jails. You know what this will mean? That for every single suspect you pick up, there will have to be either some proof of guilt or some actual charge. There will be no more picking people up and holding them until you find the evidence or gain a confession. There will have to be either evidence or a charge before you can touch them. If not, then you’ll be the one charged – with violating the suspect’s human rights!’
‘Human rights!’ everyone laughs.
‘Like all this talk of new uniforms,’ says Kai. ‘All these calls for less militaristic ones, of blue instead of khaki, of sleeve stripes instead of shoulder boards. All this talk of new uniforms when we barely have enough men left…’
‘We’ve asked and asked and asked them for new uniforms,’ says Kanehara. ‘New uniforms and new boots or, if not new uniforms or new boots, then new material to patch up our old uniforms or new soles for our old boots, anything that stops our men looking like tramps and being despised by the public as tramps…’
‘And they’ve promised and promised us,’ says Adachi –
‘Yes,’ says Kanehara. ‘But that’s all they’ve done…’
The same people, the same place, the same time and the same two conversations every day, meeting after meeting until there is another knock on the door and another interruption –
‘Excuse me,’ says another uniform –
‘What is it?’ barks the chief –
‘The mothers are ready, sir.’
*
The autopsies have been performed, the search of the area has been completed, and five of the mothers have been told to come back to Headquarters. Five mothers who read the morning paper or heard the news from neighbours two days ago. Five mothers who have taken out their last good kimonos again. Five mothers who have called upon their other daughters or their sisters for a third time. Five mothers who have once again begged the streetcar or train fare up to Sakuradamon. Five mothers still looking for their daughters –
Five mothers praying we have not found them.
A uniformed officer opens the door to the reception room for Inspector Kai and me. Kai and I apologize to these five mothers for keeping them waiting, these five mothers in their last good kimonos, their other daughters or their sisters at their sides –
Praying and praying and praying …
These five mothers whose daughters’ ages and descriptions, their heights and their weights, the scars their daughters bore or the teeth their daughters lost, the clothes they were wearing and the shoes on their feet, the bags they were carrying –
On the days they were last seen …
These features and descriptions that help us eliminate or match the missing to the dead, these features and descriptions that have brought these mothers back here –
Their hands in their laps …
These five mothers who stare up at us now as Kai asks, ‘Which one of you is Mrs. Midorikawa of Meguro Ward?’
Blinking and nodding, Mrs. Midorikawa gets to her feet with the help of her two other daughters. Blinking and nodding, Inspector Kai and I lead them into a smaller room next to the reception room. Blinking and nodding, Mrs. Midorikawa sits between her two older daughters. Blinking and nodding, Mrs. Midorikawa is twisting a piece of cloth in her hands. Blinking and nodding, Mrs. Midorikawa is staring at another piece of cloth on the table. Blinking and nodding, the tears already running down her cheeks. Blinking and nodding –
The red haramaki with the five darned holes …
‘It was her father’s. Ryuko darned it herself,’ she tells us. ‘Five times. Replaced the buttons.’
Blinking and nodding as Inspector Kai picks up the haramaki, folding it in two and then wrapping it back up inside the brown paper, the crumpled brown paper –
‘Ryuko darned it herself,’ she repeats, blinking and nodding. ‘Ryuko darned it herself.’
I excuse myself. I step outside. I go back into the reception room next door. The four other mothers look up at me. The four other mothers stare up at me –
Mouths open …
I tell the four mothers that a car will take them up to the Keiō University Hospital.
*
Mrs. Midorikawa and her two older daughters do not speak in the car to the Keiō University Hospital. They do not speak in the corridors crowded with the dying and the dead, the waiting and the grieving –
She is here. She is here. She is here. She is here …
They do not speak as we wait for the elevator, as we watch the elevator doors open, as we step inside and watch the doors close –
She is here. She is here. She is here …
They do not speak as we ride the dark elevator down, as we watch the elevator doors open again, as the light returns –
She is here. She is here …
They do not speak as they walk along the corridor to the mortuary, as they put on the slippers, as they step through the doors into the half-light of the mortuary –
She is here, here …
They bow but do not speak when they are introduced to Dr. Nakadate, as the orderlies remove a stretcher from the refrigerator –
Here is Ryuko …
They do not speak as they stare at the raised grey sheet on the stretcher, as Dr. Nakadate reaches under the grey sheet, as he takes out a hand from under the sheet, as he holds up a left hand and points out a scar on the left thumb, they do not speak but they weep –
They do not speak but they weep and they weep –
‘I am here because of you…’
They weep and they weep but they still do not speak as Dr. Nakadate slowly pulls back the grey sheet, as he shows them the bleached face of a young girl, seventeen years old –
‘I am Midorikawa Ryuko of Meguro…’
They weep and they weep but they still do not speak until Mrs. Midorikawa finally looks up from the bleached face of her daughter, from the ruined corpse of her child and cries out, ‘Kodaira!’
*
Inspector Kai and I stand in the corridor between the autopsy room and the mortuary and wait for Mrs. Midorikawa and her two older daughters to finish their discussions with the Keiō staff about the funeral arrangements for her youngest daughter. Inspector Kai is smoking a cigarette. Inspector Kai is smiling. Inspector Kai is looking at his notebook, a name written three times –
Kodaira. Kodaira. Kodaira …
‘This time tomorrow,’ laughs Inspector Kai. ‘This case will be closed and I’ll be drunk…’
Dr. Nakadate’s assistant comes down the narrow corridor. He bows. He apologizes for interrupting our conversation. He hands me a piece of paper torn from a newspaper and says, ‘This was found folded in the pocket of the skirt of the pinafore dress on your body.’
I open out the piece of newspaper. It is an advertisement –
Salon Matsu in Kanda now hiring new staff …
It is a clue, at last. It is a start, at last –
‘You never know,’ laughs Kai. ‘Maybe this time tomorrow, we’ll both be drunk…’
I bow and I thank Dr. Na
kadate’s assistant as Mrs. Midorikawa and her two daughters step out of the mortuary room –
The arrangements have been made.
Now Inspector Kai puts out his cigarette. Inspector Kai stops smiling. Inspector Kai takes Mrs. Midorikawa and her daughters back to Metropolitan Police Headquarters.
Now it is my turn –
I open the glass doors. I step inside the autopsy room. I walk over to one of the sinks. I take off my jacket. I roll up the sleeves of my shirt. I wash my hands. I dry my hands. I do up my shirt cuffs. I put my jacket back on. I walk over to one of the autopsy tables, octagonal, marble and German in design. I take out my pocket knife, blunt, rusted and Japanese. I cut the string of the three brown paper parcels waiting for me here on the table. I unwrap the brown paper of the first parcel. I take out the yellow and dark-blue striped pinafore dress, the white half-sleeved chemise, and the dyed-pink socks. I lay these clothes out on one of the other autopsy tables. I unwrap the brown paper of the second parcel. I take out the two white canvas shoes with the red rubber soles. I place these shoes on the same autopsy table. I unwrap the third brown paper parcel. I take out the ladies’ undergarments we found near the bodies in Shiba, these undergarments that did not belong to Midorikawa Ryuko. I lay these garments out on one of the smaller separate dissecting tables –
Now I step back out into the corridor –
The four other mothers with their other daughters or their sisters or neighbours are waiting. Four other mothers who have lost daughters aged fifteen to twenty years old. Four mothers who lost their daughters over three weeks ago. Mothers who are wringing their hands and praying they do not find their daughters here at the end of this corridor, beyond these glass doors –
Praying and praying …
I ask Mrs. Tamba of Ōmori Ward to please step into the autopsy room. Mrs. Tamba and her two sisters follow me inside –
Mrs. Tamba and her sisters stare at the yellow and dark-blue striped pinafore dress, the white half-sleeved chemise, the dyed-pink socks and the white canvas shoes with red rubber soles lain out on the autopsy table and they shake their heads. I ask them to look at the undergarments on the other table. They stare again and then they shake their heads again. I thank them and they leave –