The Gentleman from Japan

by James Church

  Rosalina started humming. She lowered the window and rested her arm on the frame. We’d left the highway and were driving through countryside, oak trees overhanging the road and clumps of small houses in the distance.

  “I thought we were heading for the airport,” I said.

  “We are, but I didn’t like the car that was behind us.” She glanced in the mirror. “It was red and too clean. It had special tires on it, too.”

  I turned around to look out the rear window. The road was empty.

  “Don’t worry, he didn’t turn off when we did, so maybe I was just being overly cautious. Or he radioed ahead and they think they’ll pick us up when we get off this road and back on the highway. Never mind, this is better than the highway, and I know a way to go so it only adds a few minutes to the drive.”

  “OK.” I turned back to Vincente. “That was scenario one. Nothing happens. For laughs, let’s hear number two.”

  Vincente eyed the passport, which was still sitting on the seat between us. I’d made no move to pick it up again.

  “The second possibility is the opposite of the first, but with caveats. You walk in, they’re suspicious, they drag you down to that room and push you around a little, but not much. Maybe some light slaps. They can’t afford to make a mistake. What if you really are the customer of their dreams? They’ll be careful not to do anything that they can’t fix later. After they’re done, when they’re convinced you’re OK, they’ll pretty you up, invite you to dinner, toast to your health and ask if they can send you cards of greeting on holidays.”

  “I’m supposed to be reassured? I had dinner there once already. It was not among my favorites.” I picked up the passport and put it back in my pocket. “Lucky for you I owe Luis a big favor.”

  “As you wish, Inspector,” Vincente said briskly.

  I noticed that Rosalina did not honk the horn.

  8

  The taxi pulled up in front of the factory at about eleven forty-five. Salvador let me off directly at the entry gate.

  “I’ll be back to pick you up at two thirty tomorrow afternoon. Might be another car. I’ll wait fifteen minutes, maximum. If you’re not here, either you’re already dead, or you soon will be. Good luck, my friend.”

  The black car pulled away, barely waiting for the door to shut. I was left alone in the dark for a few seconds before three bright spotlights hit me from three different angles simultaneously. For a moment I couldn’t see, but I could hear the whir of a camera being moved to focus on me. From a loudspeaker off to the side I was commanded not to move.

  “Do you want me to put up my hands?” I looked around, squinting to avoid the light, which was painfully intense. I felt like a bug.

  “I said don’t move.” The loudspeaker crackled and then threw a high-pitched squeal at me. “Don’t move means exactly that, don’t move.”

  “All right,” I said, not moving. “But I’m expected here. I have an appointment, and if I have to stand in this spot all night blinded by this light, your boss won’t be happy with the consequences.”

  PART III

  Chapter One

  Once I was inside the front gate, the spotlights stopped following me and went off. Waiting for me was a woman whom I did not recognize, though I was familiar with the type. She was slightly stooped, frowning, clutching a clipboard as if it was a weapon. Instinctively I knew I did not want to be around her any longer than necessary. She stood in the dim light of a tiny bulb illuminating the area just outside the entry hall, saying nothing, but observing me closely. Finally she turned her head slightly and spoke into her shoulder. As she did, I could see she was wearing an earpiece.

  “Have I passed your scrutiny?” I unbuttoned my jacket and turned around slowly. “Because it is late. I’d like a shower, a bed with crisp clean sheets, a bite to eat, and a glass of vodka. I assume we will talk in the morning.”

  The woman shook her head. “No time for anything so civilized.” Her voice was perfection. If I closed my eyes, I thought I could listen to it forever. That would be a mistake, I knew, but it wouldn’t be my first.

  “Follow me,” she said. “We have business to conduct.”

  2

  When I came to, I was in a different room than I had been the last time this had happened. I was on a bed, not a dirt floor. Two pillows were behind my head. My tongue, again, was like a board, and my head hurt, but Vincente had assured me that at the end of this would be a meal and something to drink. If he was wrong, I would never get to tell him. Aside from my tongue, it didn’t feel as if I had been beaten, nothing beyond a couple of knocks on the head. Maybe they’d given me a drug. I listened for the lovely voice of the woman who had put me here, but heard nothing and soon enough fell asleep.

  When I awoke again it was because someone was slapping my face. Contrary to Vincente’s assurances, they were not light slaps.

  “Stop,” I said, moderately pleased that my tongue was back to normal so quickly. “This is a hell of a way to treat a big-spending customer.”

  “Mr. Tamada, we are deeply, deeply apologetic. This is such a horrible mistake. Shall we call a doctor? You can tell him what ails you, and he will know what to do. He is very good.” It was the same woman’s voice, though with a half-note of concern that was as thin as the wing of a dragonfly.

  “I don’t suppose you have water?” I kept my eyes closed. “Something cold?”

  “Of course. You had a terrible fall and a bad night.”

  “I fell?”

  “But of course. You don’t remember? What a shame. Why don’t I call the doctor? Then you’ll feel better, ready to fight the bulls in no time. Olé!” She gave a short, sharp laugh.

  “No, no doctor.” I opened my eyes. She was swaying over me, like a cobra. “I’ll be fine. Are we going to eat something? I think food would be good. Doctors only prod and probe. No need for that now. Can you help me to my feet?”

  “Here, close your eyes. That way you won’t be dizzy.”

  As soon as I stood, I knew it was a bad idea and sat down again on the bed. “Perhaps all I need is food. Just a bite.”

  “Of course, why not? You are Japanese, a delicate creature, not like the men here. But I’ll tell you, exotic things are tiresome when you have them two days in a row. Hold still.” She stuck a needle in my vein. “This will make you drowsy again. Maybe a little giddy. Mostly you’ll answer questions with an ease that will surprise you. It usually wears off in a day, two at the most, so don’t worry. It’s rare anyone has a bad reaction. All right, open your eyes.”

  I did, but there was nothing. My eyes met nothing but the blackness of death. “You’ve blinded me,” I said. It was not pleasant, so I said the only thing that came to my mind. “The deal is off.”

  “Don’t be hasty,” she said. “It’s completely normal. Sit still, the injection goes into effect more smoothly if you don’t jump around. Now, I’m going to ask you some questions. They are simple, so the answers should be simple, and when you’ve given me the answers, we can have some food. Is it agreed?”

  “I’m blind, you fool. I don’t want food. I want my sight back, and I mean now.” If they were going to save the blindfold and shoot me like this, I saw no reason to be polite.

  “No, don’t worry, it’s just the way this stuff works, a side effect. Some people see odd colors. Others see nothing. We think it has to do with personality, or maybe it’s a form of cultural bias. Japanese tend to see bright reds. Koreans don’t see anything. Of course, it was a small sample; there’s much work left to be done in this field. Are you sure you don’t see bright red?”

  Why did she keep saying I was Japanese? Hadn’t I told José I was Korean? With great clarity I recalled the room; I vividly saw the oak panels, the dark portraits on the wall. I even thought I could hear the air move as Yuri leaped across the table and landed on José. Of course! José hadn’t had time to tell anyone. With what seemed to me an audible click, my mind moved from the past onto the present situation. “You mea
n you’ve done this before?”

  “Oh, my, yes. It’s the only way we can stay in business. So many people sneaking around the place, trying to interfere. You’re not trying to interfere, are you?”

  I had to marvel at her voice. The tissue-thin concern of a moment ago had turned into mockery heavy enough to sink a battleship.

  “What are you talking about?” I didn’t have to pretend to be upset; it was all I could do to sit still, I was so angry. Panic was the farthest thing from my mind. I was actually furious, and I knew I had to play that to the maximum. “I come here to make a purchase, and the next thing that happens I’m beaten up and blinded.”

  “Where were you born?” Leaden, serious, just this side of deadly.

  All right, I thought. Here we go. I remembered what Tomás had told me so clearly I was convinced it was true. “Tokyo. During the war, if you want to know. It was not a pleasant time.” If the shot was some sort of truth serum, it didn’t seem to be having the effect they wanted.

  “Not pleasant,” she mimicked me. “Wars never are. Your parents?”

  “They died during the war or soon after. All my relatives perished.”

  “How convenient.”

  “Well, it wasn’t convenient for me. I lived out of garbage cans and slept in broken buildings, those that hadn’t burned to the ground in the American bombing. It was a bad time.”

  “Common enough. Next you fell in with a gang, I suppose.”

  “Nothing of the sort. I became a servant in the household of General Douglas MacArthur, polished the silverware, and was promoted three times.” This blew a hole in the story Tomás had given me, but I could tell that for some reason the woman seemed to know bits of the story already, so I decided to alter a few details. “That job disappeared when MacArthur was dismissed, and then I fell in with a gang.”

  The woman grunted. “You didn’t know the name of the gang leader.”

  “Of course I knew his name. It was Shin. He was Korean.”

  “As are you. We don’t like to dance around on these things. It wastes time. We need to know exactly whom we are dealing with. If that bastard whom you killed told you differently, he was an idiot. Let us be frank. We think you are Korean, and you want to purchase these machines for your ridiculous regime. We could care less, believe me, who purchases what and why. But we are ready to crush double-dealers. They are dangerous; they are slime. If you tell us you are Japanese but you aren’t, what are we to think?”

  “Think whatever you want. What difference does it make? I could come from Mars for all you care. I hand you what you want, you hand over the merchandise, deal done. Since when do we go through a questionnaire on country of origin? I’m not applying for a visa, I’m buying machinery. Are you selling, or aren’t you?” Problem—how did they know I wasn’t Japanese if José had died before he could tell anyone? The oak table was so ugly, no one would have noticed a couple of wires.

  “Relax,” she said. “You don’t make the rules here, we do. I asked you a question.”

  “Yeah, well, I have one for you. When do I get my sight back? And I didn’t kill that bastard. Your man Yuri did. Surely your cameras told you that.”

  “That’s your story.” She sounded amused. “You have a lot of stories.”

  I decided not to argue about Yuri for the moment. “When do I get my sight back?”

  “When I say so.” It was firm and thoroughly unpleasant. I decided that despite an occasional laugh, she was basically sour on life.

  I heard the door close and was left alone. There was nothing to do. The blindness forced me into a bank of memories that I’d locked up years ago. I sorted through them, put each in a folder, and built a mental bookshelf to hold them. Eventually, it would be tomorrow, unless it already was. Salvador would wait fifteen minutes as he said, and then he and his taxi would roll back down the dirt path to the main road. He’d report to someone, maybe Rosalina, that the plan hadn’t worked. Then they would go out for a drink. It didn’t bother me. All I wanted was some sleep.

  When I woke, I went through a list of all the trees I knew and what my grandfather thought of each, and then got up and walked around the room, feeling the walls and trying to locate a window. There was only one, and it was high up on the wall. Eventually, I sat down and waited. Finally, there was a knock at the door. I heard the faint sound of a key in a lock.

  “I knocked so you would not be alarmed or surprised.” It was the same woman’s voice. “Here is some food. When you finish that, you’ll get another injection that will give you back your sight. It takes several hours to take hold, and sometimes there are side effects.”

  “Like what?”

  “Perhaps nausea. Perhaps dizziness. Perhaps dryness of mouth. It is rarely fatal.”

  “Rarely” was not a word that carried much reassurance on its back at the moment. “I’m pleased,” I said. “I often beat the odds.”

  “Here’s the tray with the food.“I heard her move across the room. The next time she spoke, she was very near. “I’m putting it on a small table against the wall. There’s a chair beside it. Let me help you find it.” She took my arm. “You are a bad boy, you threw your pillows on the floor. If you sleep without the pillows after the injection you might be dead when you wake up. Something about your air passage getting closed off. No oxygen. We don’t want that, do we?”

  After she’d put me in the chair, she put her face next to mine, very close again. “There is fruit, bread, cheese, and a glass of good wine if you don’t spill it. I’ll put it here, beside you, to your right. I’m not paid to feed you, but I know you can manage. You are a capable man, very masculine.” She purred this. “Very sexy.”

  “True,” I said, “but let’s hold that for now. The prospect of being nauseous and dizzy makes me uneasy. When I’m uneasy I’m not in the mood for women, however pleasant their voices.”

  She laughed. “As you wish,” she said. “I’ll be back in about thirty minutes with the needle. I have to give it to you in your backside, so don’t think I’m being forward when I tell you to lower your trousers.”

  The fruit consisted of oranges, cherries, and slices of overly ripe pear. I don’t much care for cheese but nibbled at a piece. The odor was familiar, but I couldn’t place it. The wine was not very good; I guessed it was red and raw, maybe something local. I drank it anyway and wished for more.

  A few minutes later, the door opened. “Ah, good, at least you ate the fruit. The cheese is from sheep’s milk, aged in a cave for around a month. Some people don’t like how it smells. It’s strong at first, but it fades.”

  The odor finally made the connection. “You age it in the cave with the dumpling machine?”

  “So, you were there with Yuri? We thought so. The guard wasn’t forthcoming, and Yuri wasn’t speaking.” She laughed gaily, like a spider noticing a new bug in its web. “As far as I’m concerned, we should get rid of all of them, worthless Slavs. Anyway, for purposes of cheese, a cave is a cave, is it not? The wine is not paired well with this cheese. I apologize. It should be red, but all we had was this white from Tarragona. It’s too silky for my taste. Tell me, did you like it?”

  “I prefer vodka, actually.” Silky? My grandfather would have refused to remove paint with it for fear of destroying the wood underneath.

  “All right. Stand up, lower your trousers, and bend over.”

  “Is this necessary?”

  “If you want your sight back, I’d advise it. After that, you can rest for a few hours, and then we’ll be ready to discuss business. We talked it over, made a few phone calls, and I can tell you we are now largely convinced you are who you say you are, that you are not from Mars but a gentleman from Japan. Please excuse my suspicions to the contrary.”

  I heard voices from outside the door, and then I sensed someone step into the room. It was a woman. She had on delicate perfume.

  “Just a minute.” The first woman moved away, and there was a whispered conversation. In less than a minute, she w
as back in front of me. “What we need now is to finalize the transaction and arrange the transportation for the merchandise immediately.” She’d lost some of her sense of command.

  “Something the matter?”

  “Something is always the matter in this business. Bend over.”

  3

  Never in my life have I been so sick. At one point several people stood over me and murmured in worried voices. It developed into an angry exchange and seemed on the verge of getting physical until I groaned and turned on my side. Then they quieted down again and the room was still.

  When I woke, I was glad to find I could see light and dark, though still nothing distinct. I held my fingers in front of my face, but only blur registered. Outside the door, I heard voices conversing in Japanese. The door opened, and I could at least make out that a shape was standing in front of me.

  “You had a bad reaction to the shot.” The woman sounded concerned. She wasn’t, but it was a good imitation. “Apparently you’re past that stage and through the worst of it. We’ve consulted some knowledgeable people, and they say it may be another few hours before everything is back to normal.”

  “Meaning what? I can have more of that cheese in the meantime?”

  “Meaning your sight will be back. The delay is not good.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “I meant for us. We can’t afford it. We’re running out of time. If you’re not ready to complete the transaction by three P.M., all hell will break loose.”

  “What time is it now?”

  “About ten thirty in the morning.”

  “Well, don’t blame me. In fact, when I tell the organization what you put me through, I doubt if they’ll be interested in further purchases.”