by Rory Pralte
At about twelve o’clock Patrick went into a westernised noodle bar, ordered a small set lunch and coke and perched on a stool near the entrance, sipped his drink, played with his noodles and thought.
At 1.15 he arrived at the Imperial and spent twenty minutes window-shopping in the shops situated under the ground floor. In one he looked at a set of unframed silk prints of Japanese birds and, having deliberated for ten minutes, decided to buy them. Anne would like these; she really likes pictures, thought Patrick. Little did he know the types of pictures Anne was going to be given as a present! Despite all his thoughts of how his meeting was going to go, he had a big surprise waiting for him.
At twenty to two, Patrick went to the coffee shop and ordered a coffee and a glass of milk. Despite his inherent good timekeeping he was determined to be at least ten minutes late for the meeting.
At five past two, Patrick approached the reception desk and spoke to a receptionist. She was very pretty.
“I have a meeting in a suite with Ichiro Taduii of Watanabe Trading at two o’clock.”
“One minute, Sir,” replied the receptionist and, checking with her computer and a colleague, she wrote a note on a small piece of Imperial Hotel headed paper and gave it to Patrick. Suite 4204 was written on the paper. Patrick thanked her and headed towards the lifts.
Within two minutes he was outside Suite 4204 on the fourth floor of the Imperial Hotel. His palms were sweating slightly. He adjusted his tie, took a deep breath, practiced a smile and knocked on the door.
The meeting was to prove particularly illuminating.
*
Paul Schmidt had spent nearly two days in detention following his unfortunate meeting with a keen customs official at Narita Airport.
He had been kept in a purpose-built area, almost like a small hotel, and his accommodation consisted of a room with a bed, television, barred windows on one wall - situated above head height - together with a small table and chair. Off this room was a small area with a shower, toilet and washbasin.
He had been allowed to keep his own clothes but all personal items had been removed and signed for and ties, belts and shoelaces had been removed.
The German Consulate official had visited him on the first evening of his detention and explained to him that he should co-operate with the Japanese officials, who could hold him for seventy-two hours without charge. His best course of action would be to admit if the money he had illegally brought into the country was from any illegal source and, if so, he would be provided with a German-speaking Japanese lawyer.
Paul had listened to the consular official. “Herr Hebbert,” Paul had spoken to him in a slightly raised and aggrieved voice. “The money I have brought into Japan was from a legitimate business deal I have been involved in with Pyo Han of Binhu Ltd. I have given the officials here all the information and told them to contact Pyo so I can continue my journey to Frankfurt.”
The official had confirmed his advice to Paul Schmidt and promised to return the next day, when hopefully the situation was clarified. However, Herr Hebbert had remarked as he left on that first evening, “Even if your friend clarifies that the money is from a legitimate business deal, the authorities will want to check the notes to see they cannot be traced to any illegal activity and you will also be liable to a fine in any case.”
On the second day of his detention at 10.30 , after Paul had eaten a traditional Japanese breakfast brought to him by his Japanese detention officer, Herr Hebbert visited him. He was accompanied by three other people, one a blonde-haired German girl of about thirty years of age and also a Japanese and a further oriental, who Paul took to be a Korean.
Three additional chairs were brought into the room and they all sat round the table. It was crowded and hot. The smell of the girl’s strong perfume filled the air.
The Japanese spoke first. “Herr Schmidt. This is Frau Lander. She is from the German Consulate and is here as she speaks fluent Japanese and Korean. This gentleman is Mr Kim, he is a representative of Seoul Police and has just arrived. We have some news of your business contact Mr Pyo Han.”
“Good,” replied Paul, brusquely. “I am sure Mr Han has confirmed my ownership of the money. Perhaps now I can regain my freedom. The only reason for me to visit Japan on this occasion was to catch a flight to Frankfurt.”
The Japanese looked at Herr Hebbert. “Herr Hebbert, please will you explain the position to Herr Schmidt. But firstly I must explain, Herr Schmidt, that we are obliged to record all our conversations. Is this acceptable to you and do you understand this?”
Paul Schmidt’s rage erupted. “No it is not acceptable. Is this some kind of police state? I have been held as a prisoner for two days and my only crime, if that is what it is, is to have brought too much of my own money into this bloody country. What the hell is going on?”
Herr Hebbert interrupted him. “Please, Herr Schmidt, we are here to discuss some very grave matters. Please will you understand that and answer the questions that are put to you. Do you understand that these conversations will be on record? I urge you to answer all questions, including that one, succinctly and honestly.”
Paul Schmidt stared at Herr Hebbert. His icy blue eyes were fiery. “I understand,” he clipped. “Record anything you want, but what the hell is going on?”
Herr Hebbert faced him and asked, “When did you last see Pyo Han of Binhu in Seoul, Herr Schmidt?” Paul looked at the faces around the table.
“Why?” he replied and continued, “Actually, two months ago. I visited him two days ago to collect this money but it was not necessary to see him. The money was left for me at my hotel. You already have all those details.”
“So you did not visit or see Pyo Han during your recent trip to Seoul?” It was the Korean speaking to him. “Did you speak to Mr Han or make contact in any other way, Herr Schmidt? If so, please be as precise as possible in your answer.”
Paul Schmidt frowned. What was this all about? All they had to do was to contact Pyo and he’d confirm what had taken place. He looked at the girl, sitting between the Japanese and the Korean. She blushed slightly and bent her head forward to avoid his gaze.
“I arrived in Korea and spoke to Pyo Han at about 2am on the day of arrival. He told me my money would be available in a deposit box at the hotel, that there was no need for us to meet. I collected my money and then caught the flight for Tokyo. All this can easily be checked with the hotel, probably down to the time of the phone call. He called me in the middle of the night, for Christ’s sake.”
Herr Hebbert spoke. “Pyo Han was found dead by the company housekeeper at 7am on the morning you state he rang you. The cause of death is being investigated now.”
The complexion on Paul Schmidt’s face drained until it was chalky white. A look of disbelief appeared in his eyes. The girl opposite him noticed this and made a note in her writing pad. The others at the table could see clearly this was a big shock to Paul Schmidt.
Her Hebbert continued, “Until the investigations have been concluded and, in view of the fact that you were stopped entering Japan with a large sum of cash and appear to be the last known contact of the dead man, the authorities here, at the request of the Korean Police, have requested that you are detained for a further period of seven days. Is there anything further you wish to say at this stage?”
Paul was having difficulty speaking. The news about Pyo’s death was like a bolt out of the blue. It was also slowly dawning on him that now his worries were not about the money; he was being considered as a possible murderer!
His visitors stood and, removing their chairs, left the room, having knocked on the door for it to be opened. Herr Hebbert stayed for five minutes, explaining the legal position to Paul and asking him to write down in as much detail as possible all of his movements over the past few days.
When Herr Hebbert left, Paul lay on his bed thinking about his friend Pyo. He knew
he had not and would not touch a hair on Pyo’s head. They were good friends as well as business partners. His thoughts ran wild, remembering good times they had had together and thinking who would have killed such a fun-loving man. It could only be the responsibility of one bastard; Skymar’s Michael working with those swines from Watanabe. Once Paul got out of this mess he’d see to it that Michael got what he’d deserved for a long time.
Then Paul’s thoughts reviewed his actions over the last few days. He thought back to his night with Anya and the information he had given Pyo. It looked as though Michael and Watanabe had got to Anya and that must have been through that snake, Taduii. He was another bastard who deserved something.
The next few days for Paul passed very slowly. Each day Herr Hebbert visited for about an hour but there was no news. On the fourth day, however, there was some news.
Herr Hebbert recounted to Paul that the Seoul Police had found no evidence of Paul visiting Pyo Han’s apartment. No traces of Paul or other clues had been found and also the hotel had been able to confirm the deposit of a package by an employee of Binhu on the day of Paul’s arrival at the Seoul hotel and the hotel telephone company had been able to trace the call from Pyo’s phone to Paul’s room at 2am, as stated.
“So, Herr Schmidt, no charges are to be levelled at you regarding Pyo Han’s death, at the moment.”
“I had nothing to do with Pyo’s death,” replied Paul, angrily and sadly. “He was a good friend.”
Herr Hebbert continued coldly, “The position is this. The German Consulate has arranged for you to be returned home to Frankfurt. However, the Japanese authorities are, for the meantime, impounding the money you illegally brought into Japan and the German authorities will want to have full documentation regarding this money, as at the moment there is some suspicion that this may have been a cash transaction to avoid German taxes. Therefore, you will be returned to Frankfurt and surrender your passport to the German Police and report weekly to them until all these matters are cleared up.”
“I suppose I have very little option but to agree to this, Herr Hebbert,” replied Paul.
“You agree to the conditions then, and if you will read and sign the undertaking I give you, we will return you to Frankfurt immediately.”
Within five hours Paul Schmidt was on a Lufthansa 747 flight direct from Tokyo to Frankfurt. From seat 37A, looking out at a black sky at 53,000 feet, he reflected on the death of his friend, the probable loss of his money, his temporary loss of freedom when he reached Frankfurt. Silently he vowed that he would revenge the death of his friend. His calculating mind was set on a course of action. That bastard from Skymar was due some serious retribution. Paul Schmidt determined there and then he would make sure it happened, and fast.
*
The door of Suite 4204 at the Imperial opened and Patrick was greeted by a relaxed-looking Ichiro Taduii.
Taduii ushered him through the lobby into a large room with two elegant suites of chairs and sofas, a large bookcase, flowers, a large television and even a small bar in one corner. “Would you like a drink, Patrick?” Taduii asked.
“Orange please,” replied Patrick, then he faced Taduii and said, “Right, let’s get down to business. You have a big problem. I have offered a solution. That solution is open to acceptance for only three more days. My lawyers and investors are adamant that this time is not extended. We have a lot of business to conclude as a company so time is short. You know we are serious.”
Taduii looked at Patrick. Patrick noticed he looked much more confident than at their last meeting but also that Taduii looked a little startled at Patrick’s last remark. However, Taduii appeared to settle himself and, with a slight smile on his face, said to Patrick, “I have spoken to Skymar about the allegations you have put to me. The position is not quite what you state but there do appear to have been some misunderstandings. However, having reviewed the position, I am prepared, on behalf of Watanabe, to offer your company $70,000 in full settlement.”
Before Patrick could interject, Taduii continued, “I am aware that this amount is different than your proposed settlement but, in view of the fact that certain information has come into our hands, we believe it will be in your best interests to agree.”
Patrick swallowed hard. So that was the angle then, blackmail over the girl. Patrick had already decided what to say.
“So, you tried to set me up with that girl last night, Taduii; not very wise. I don’t know what she told you, but how do you think you are going to blackmail me over a drink in my room? And who will be interested? My wife Anne? Sorry to disappoint you, but she knows what I do when I’m away. We have an arrangement.” This was all pure bluff but Patrick could not think of any other riposte.
Taduii smiled again and from his pocket pulled out a remote controller for a TV and placed it on the table.
“I do not think you understand me Patrick.” He looked straight at Patrick. “If you would like to watch this video we can both enjoy your night’s exercises. Let me make myself plain. This video is going to be delivered to your wife tomorrow morning unless there is a settlement on my offer. Would you like to see some now?” Taduii picked up the remote.
Patrick acted instinctively. He stood and face Taduii and spoke to him slightly louder and more abruptly than before. “Taduii, you could have a video of me fucking the whole of Japan. It is irrelevant. Send it to my wife. It won’t surprise her. If you don’t understand I am serious by now, then you soon will!” To make his point he stabbed his right forefinger into Taduii’s chest in time with his words. He turned and, just before opening the door to exit the room again, firmly and loudly said to Taduii, “My conditions are clear. You and that shit Michael have two more days to meet them. If you don’t, then the consequences will be through the law and commercially.I know how this will affect you and Skymar. Cough up!”
With that, Patrick opened the door and, exiting the room, shut the door as quietly and firmly as possible.
In Suite 4204 Ichiro Taduii was left pondering over the brazen reply. Was it true or not? The more he thought about it the more he was unsure. Did he go to Michael and tell him what he had done or not? His mind was in turmoil.
In the central lift descending from the fourth floor of the Imperial Hotel, Patrick’s mind was also working overtime. What’s next? If Anne did get that video she’d go berserk. That’s if it existed. It horrified Patrick to think that maybe his night’s exertions were on film. God forbid, and what now? How would he be able to get a settlement? He hadn’t even made an appointment, just told Taduii there were two days left. He looked at his watch then his diary. He’d nearly forgotten he had a follow-up meeting with Kanji Toba at four, regarding the memory cards. He caught a train to his hotel and from the Squire Hotel walked to Motu in Sakadori Avenue.
At 3.30 there was a telephone call to Suite 4204 Imperial Hotel. It was Michael. “Have you sorted out that mess with Patrick Chase yet?” Michael’s voice quizzed a slightly drunk Ichiro Taduii. “Has he accepted what I offered? Are you fucking drunk? Get the hell up here now; I want to know what’s going on.”
Taduii put the phone down. He quickly went into the bathroom, splashed his face with cold water and straightened his tie. How much was he going to tell Michael? He arrived at Michael’s room in five minutes. There were no pleasantries between the two men.
“Well,” snapped Michael, “what have you agreed with Chase, or haven’t you? Or have you arranged to have him silenced?”
Michael turned to Jumbo Kiwakura. “Does Taduii realise the seriousness of this matter? Chase is serious and dangerous. I have to go to bloody Hanover tomorrow to meet people at the Messe there for two days and I want this sorted.”
Kiwakura turned to Taduii, “Have you met with Patrick Chase yet?”
Taduii faced Kiwakura. He did not want to look at Michael. “I have spoken to Chase and put a proposition to him. I offered him the $70,00
0 and also have some other pressure on him.”
Michael spoke directly to Taduii. “What other pressure, Taduii?” Taduii then explained what he had done with the girl and the video cameraman. Kiwakura listened and waited for Michael’s outburst. It seemed like a half-baked idea to him.
Michael’s face broke out into a broad smile. “At last, Taduii, you’re using your brains not your balls. From what I know about Patrick the last thing on earth he’d want is his wife knowing he’d been fucking around. Where’s the video?”
Within thirty minutes the three men had viewed a small part of the video and Michael had arranged for it to be copied and couriered to the Skymar Offices in the U.K. He then spoke to Jeanette in the U.K. telling her to expect the video and be prepared to take it to Anne Chase the next morning by ten o’clock if Michael had not told her not to, and Jeanette was instructed to make an appointment with Anne Chase.
UK
It was a sleepy Anne Chase who answered a telephone call on her bedroom phone at 7.40 that morning in Colnbrook, near the company’s Staines offices. It was not a good time for Anne, even at 7.40, and it was not a favourite person who had called her.
“This is Jeanette, Michael Shoner’s personal assistant from Skymar. Michael and Patrick have been having discussions and I need to arrange to meet with you at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. I trust this will be OK?”
Anne thought, who the hell did this bitch think she was? The last time she phoned she had hung up.
“What do you need to discuss with me?” Anne enquired. “Anything to do with business has to be discussed with Patrick. I don’t see any point in meeting.”
“Believe me, you will,” replied Jeanette. “I will arrive at ten o’clock; it will only take about ten minutes.” With that, the phone went dead.
Anne lay back on the double pillows. Why the hell couldn’t she have married someone normal with a sensible job and regular, reliable income? What the hell was all this about anyway? And why hadn’t she heard from her husband? He’d better phone today to sort out something for the bank otherwise he’d be coming home to a vagrant as his wife.