Last Stop Tokyo

by James Buckler

  He turned on to his side to try to sleep and realized he wasn’t the only one awake. Two eyes blinked in the pale green light. They had an eerie quality, as if they had been watching him for some time. He stared back for a moment and then looked away.

  There was the shuffle of a blanket as it was kicked off, and Alex glanced back. He could see the watcher rise up from his futon and reach over towards the head of the man next to him as he gave a long, nasal gutter of sleep. The watcher was moving with patient stealth, hardly breathing, checking around to make sure no one else could see. He seemed unconcerned about Alex.

  He reached under the head of his sleeping neighbour and slowly pulled out a half-full water bottle. He unscrewed the cap and pressed the bottle to his lips, letting the liquid run down his gullet in a single draught. Then he quietly placed the cap on to the empty bottle and tucked it back and lay down again. Alex turned over and closed his eyes. He listened for a few minutes but heard no further movements. He willed himself to go back to sleep. There were too many waking hours to be spent in the cell as it was.

  In the morning, they were roused by the 6 a.m. bell and began to stir. The foul stench of rancid bodies soured the air. Alex felt as if his bones had been crushed to dust on the solid cement floor. He rubbed his eyes and stood up. His cellmates began to fold away their bedding.

  The birthmarked prisoner lifted his pillow to retrieve the water he had left there and found the empty bottle. He shouted in frustration and tossed it across the cell. He was pointing at the others and growling accusations. Alex understood his anger, even if he couldn’t understand his language. He snapped at the man who had slept next to him but he just casually shook his head and nodded towards Alex. He gave a sly smile and then turned away. Birthmark took a step in Alex’s direction. An older prisoner reached out to stop him but he was set in motion now and easily shook him away. Alex had the briefest of moments to brace himself.

  Birthmark hit with tremendous force, lowering his head so it hammered against Alex’s chest, and they fell together in a grapple. He began hissing and cursing through gritted teeth and grasped Alex’s throat in both hands and began to lever his face down towards the rank cess in the toilet bowl. Alex balked and pushed up from the steel rim, bucking his shoulders and throwing his head backwards. His skull connected with flesh and cartilage and they slipped down together, the Chinese rolling on top for a moment before his momentum carried him over and Alex twisted above him and dug a savage elbow into his throat. He struck the man twice with balled fists and heard his head crack hard on the concrete floor. There was a blow to his face and Alex tasted blood as it began to flow warm and sweet in the back of his throat. He reached his arm back to strike again but was pulled to his feet. He crouched with his back to the wall, waiting for a massed attack, but the others remained still. They stared at him, at the blood trickling over his lip as if it was the manifestation of their worst fears.

  Jun saw him as he stepped into the locker room to return his bedding. He squinted at Alex’s face as he examined the damage.

  ‘Who did this?’ he asked.

  ‘It doesn’t concern you.’

  ‘You’re lucky your face was already injured. If the warders noticed this, you would be up for more charges.’

  ‘Let’s talk about something else.’

  Jun shook his head. ‘This is serious now,’ he said.

  ‘It was a fair fight. It’s got nothing to do with you.’

  ‘They were warned. This won’t be allowed to go unpunished.’

  ‘Just let me handle it, Jun.’

  ‘It’s not that simple, Russia-jin. Everyone has to know who is in charge here.’

  He turned and walked back down the corridor, his uneven gait rolling his body awkwardly as he moved. Alex watched him go. He felt drained and tired, powerless to stop whatever course was now set in motion.

  The guards formed the men into a line and herded them into the washroom. Alex took his place and followed the others and stood in front of the water trough. Among the scrum of tightly packed prisoners, he saw his Chinese cellmate facing him across the room as he removed his uniform shirt and began washing. He stared at Alex, his face set with purpose as he doused the swellings on his jaw and brow with handfuls of icy water. Alex stared back. A moment of animal intuition passed between them, an understanding of the depths to which people with nothing to lose can sink. Then his gaze softened and he nodded to Alex in respect and began to pull on his shirt.

  It was over so quickly that he had no time to react. The prisoners either side seized his arms while they were still trapped by the fabric of his shirt. A young inmate beside them bent down and reached under the sole of his slipper and stood up. He eyes looked vacant, his body so thin that he appeared half-starved. Something glinted in his hand as he turned and flicked it across the Chinese prisoner’s face. A spray of bright arterial blood jetted from the wine-coloured stain and he flinched, more in surprise than pain, and struggled to free himself. The trough clattered as the Japanese prisoner tossed away a razor blade half-wrapped in tape, and all three of them turned to run. Alex stood transfixed as his cellmate searched with his fingertips inside the hollow of the socket and found a pulp where his eyeball had been. Everyone seemed to move as one for the exit as the guards rushed in with batons drawn. The Chinese was staggering now, reaching for the side of the water basin to steady himself, his other hand still groping for his eye, uselessly trying to re-form the bloody remains.

  18

  AFTER TWO DAYS of lock-down, Saito sent for him. The guards manacled his wrists and strapped a thick leather belt around his waist. They chained the handcuffs tightly to the belt and led him up through the corridors and stairwells of Ushigome. The interview room was untouched since his last visit. The same patches of dirt ground into the walls, the same atmosphere of uncertainty and despair. The escort told him to sit and left the handcuffs fastened while he waited for the inspector to appear. Officer Tomada was trailing behind him as he entered the room.

  Saito took a long, scathing look at him before he finally pulled out his chair and sat down. He rested his weathered forearms on the heavy tabletop.

  ‘Your stay here at Ushigome has been most eventful, Malloy-san,’ he said, in his deep, steady tone.

  ‘All I’ve done is keep my head down and wait. You know I had nothing to do with what happened in the washroom. There were many witnesses. Everyone saw I wasn’t involved.’

  Saito was unmoved. ‘We know exactly who is responsible. He has been taken from the holding block and transferred to another facility. We know who forced him to do it. He has confessed to everything, but I need more evidence. I need your co-operation.’

  ‘Whatever his reasons are for the attack, they have nothing to do with me.’

  ‘Is that what you think?’

  Alex chose his words carefully. The stakes seemed to be rising every hour. ‘It’s what I know. Anything else is none of my business.’

  Saito reached down and unfastened the locks on his briefcase. He reached in and took out a thick brown Manila envelope and placed it before him.

  ‘Open it,’ he said, and pushed the envelope towards Alex.

  The steel chain on his wrists rattled on the desktop as he leaned forward and picked it up. The envelope was unsealed. Inside was a thick bundle of ten-thousand-yen bills, the edges sharp and new.

  ‘Is this the jidan money?’ Alex asked hopefully.

  ‘Yes. It was sent to me personally this morning, for me to send to Ms Yamamoto on your behalf.’

  ‘Then I’m free to go?’

  ‘It would appear that way, Malloy-san.’

  Alex felt a rush of relief. He began to smile but his instincts repulsed any premature optimism. He had come to expect only disaster.

  ‘So why am I still here?

  ‘Because I know where this money came from. I see many foreigners sitting where you are, Malloy-san. And I expect I will see many more in the future. But I doubt I will see anyone in as much da
nger as you are now.’

  ‘You told me to raise five million yen in order to get out of here. That’s exactly what I’ve done.’

  ‘Do you have any idea who these people are?’

  ‘Yes. They’re the only ones who showed any interest in helping me.’

  ‘Did you have no one else to turn to?’

  ‘I’m alone down there on the cell block, Inspector. I don’t have anyone.’

  ‘What about outside of here?’

  Alex shook his head. ‘I’m alone out there as well.’

  Saito took the envelope and emptied the stack of notes into his hand. He flicked through them like a deck of cards.

  ‘Tell me what happened that night. Tell me the truth and then I can try to help you. We both know Ms Yamamoto’s version of events is suspect.’

  Alex was determined not to speak against Naoko. He knew that contradicting her statement would only ruin her reputation and that would kill any chance they had of getting back together and putting this behind them. He had made this promise to himself and kept it so far, despite the dangers of being locked up in Ushigome. It made no sense to give Saito what he wanted now.

  ‘I won’t say anything against Naoko. I can’t.’

  ‘Your loyalty is admirable. But it is misplaced. Do you think she is acting in your interests, or hers?’

  ‘What about you, Inspector? Whose interests are you really concerned with? After everything I’ve been through, I don’t trust anyone.’

  The inspector looked down at the money in his hand for a moment, as if it were a sacred object. A sadness had come into his eyes. He slid it back into the envelope and closed the seal.

  ‘Do you want me to pass this money to Ms Yamamoto?’

  ‘I just want to get out of here. If it costs me a year’s salary, then so be it.’

  ‘If this is your decision, I will honour it, Malloy-san,’ he said. ‘But I have a feeling it is going to cost you so much more.’

  Officer Tomada accompanied him down to the holding area. She waited outside the locker room as he changed from his blue uniform into his stale, bloodstained clothes. They seemed a size too large after a week of prison rations. His wallet and phone were in a sealed plastic bag. He had no shoes.

  ‘Inspector Saito asked me to give you this,’ Tomada said. She handed him a business card printed in Japanese.

  ‘What is it?’ Alex asked.

  She pointed to the numbers hidden amongst the kanji and hiragana characters. ‘It’s Inspector Saito’s direct line at Ushigome,’ she said. ‘His cell phone number is on the other side.’

  ‘Why does he want me to have this?’

  Tomada looked up at him with her blank, unquestioning eyes. ‘He thinks you are in a very serious situation now. He wants you to be able to get hold of him quickly. I suggest you accept his offer. It’s not one I’ve seen him make before.’

  Alex shook his head. ‘I don’t need it.’

  Tomada pushed the business card into his hand. ‘I wouldn’t be so sure,’ she said.

  The daylight was blinding when he opened the main doors of Ushigome and stepped out on to the street. It was just after midday and the streets were busy with office workers, walking in groups. The noises of the city, the passing traffic and the snatches of bright, unguarded conversation were disorienting at first. Alex felt dizzy, almost drunk, as his senses were overloaded. He was walking barefoot, his clothes soiled and stained. A pair of teenage students passed him and stared in unison at his appearance. Alex stared back. He looked like the survivor of some unreported disaster but he was too exhausted to be self-conscious now. He was free, that was all that mattered. He could walk where he pleased without having to follow instructions or be wary of violence. That alone was enough to make him want to cry tears of relief.

  At a lunch counter near the station, he ordered a bowl of noodles and a glass of water. The owner looked at his appearance and insisted on payment before he would serve any food. Alex counted the change from his pockets out on to the counter and ate hurriedly, as if fearing someone would snatch the bowl away before he had eaten his fill. The food was quick and cheap but too rich after a week of prison rations. The broth turned over queasily in his stomach. For a moment, he thought he might be sick but he held it down. He walked along the concourse and took the escalator to the western platform and stood at the far end, away from the crowds and waited for the train home.

  His room was as he had left it. The blind was rolled up and his laundry was hanging from the drying pole outside his window, the clothes streaked with several days’ worth of grime and bleached by the sun. He took them in and tossed them into a pile in the corner of his room. It was only now, alone behind the locked door, that Alex started to feel safe. It was over. What was going to happen in the coming days, he had no idea.

  He connected his phone to the charger and switched it on. There were twelve missed calls: ten from the Excelsior School and two from Hiro. No matter how difficult the conversation was going to be, he knew the first call he had to make. He dialled the number for the school and asked to speak to Craig Wyndham.

  ‘You’re finally out then?’ Craig said.

  Alex grimaced at the words. He had hoped the reason for his absence would somehow still be secret.

  ‘How did you find out?’ he asked.

  ‘After you hadn’t shown up to work for a few days or returned my calls, I contacted the police to report you missing. Imagine my surprise when I found out they had you in custody.’

  ‘It was all a misunderstanding, Craig. I was released without charge.’

  ‘You’ve been gone for a week.’

  ‘It was a complicated misunderstanding.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘I really don’t want to talk about it, to be honest. I just want to come back to work.’

  Craig gave a short laugh. ‘You really expect me to welcome you back as if nothing’s happened?’

  ‘I need my job right now. I can’t afford to lose it.’

  ‘All the teachers here know where you’ve been. Some of them don’t want to work with you any more. Some of the female staff are scared of you.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous.’

  ‘Is it? What if your students find out? Or their parents? How will that look? I’ll be the one in trouble if I take you back, knowing you’re a potential threat to others.’

  Alex was pacing now, desperately trying to think of anything he could say to make his case. ‘Please, Craig. I have to work. I can’t lose my income.’

  ‘It’s too late, Alex.’

  ‘I really need your help.’

  ‘Now, you expect my help? After all the trouble you’ve made for me? Well, I’m not inclined to give it. Come and pick up your personal items on Monday. I’ll box them up for you.’ He hung up.

  Alex took a moment to let the gravity of his situation sink in. He knew he should have expected it to turn out this way, but it was still a devastating blow. He felt drained. He lay down on his futon and tried to think. There were footsteps on the landing as the other tenants came and went and greeted each other in friendly voices. They were living lives that seemed unimaginable to him now. Easy and carefree.

  His phone buzzed as a text arrived and Alex checked it quickly, hoping it was Craig. He was surprised to see it was from Naoko. He opened it and read the message.

  I have your money. Now it’s all over.

  He read it again, saying the words slowly in his head, letting them trickle down like poison. He had protected her from Inspector Saito during his time in prison. He had refused to implicate her in any wrongdoing, hoping that there was a way to salvage their relationship once he was released. But now, as if losing his job wasn’t enough, he had to endure this. Had to sit back and have his face rubbed in it as she revelled in her victory. It was the hardest blow out of the many he had received. He shut his phone off. Fuck this, Alex thought. Fuck Naoko. Fuck Tokyo. Fuck everyone.

  19

  THE EXPRESSWAY HEADIN
G north was shadowed by office buildings and the pale elevations of apartment blocks. Alex slept in the passenger seat. From time to time, he drifted up and looked around but the view was always the same. Slabs of cement and glass and steel, all stacked up like tombstones in the flat grey light of morning. Two hours further and he opened his eyes and there it was outside the window. The real world, lush and green, spreading out across a low, flat plain to a range of dark hills in the distance. Everywhere he looked there were fields of rice ready for harvest and irrigation ditches banked with cinder pathways. Old women stood in rows, bent double, submerged to their knees in the muddy water.

  Hiro was driving, tapping the steering wheel along to the radio. ‘You should try it,’ he said. ‘It’s good for the soul to get some Japanese soil between your toes.’

  Alex shook himself awake and rubbed his face. He felt the raised track of the scar on his cheek. ‘It feels good just to get away from Tokyo for a while.’

  ‘I know. But the best thing about leaving the city is going back to it later.’

  ‘Where are we staying?’ Alex asked.

  ‘It’s a surprise. You’ll find out when we get there.’

  ‘I think I’ve had enough of surprises.’

  ‘Just wait and see, gaijin. This is the kind of surprise that’s worth waiting for.’

  Soon the hills rose up and the trees grew ever bigger and thicker and the hills steepened into mountains. The road twisted and followed the contours and grades up towards Mount Asama. They drove on towards Karuizawa, past the wedding chapels and grand hotels, the air clear and fresh. Beyond the Usui pass, the buildings gave way to clipped golf courses and then forests of larch and birch and the road dipped and rose in tight bends. Hiro took a sharp turn on to a dirt track that led over a stone bridge and pulled up in front of a large Alpine-style house built under the forest canopy. There was a swimming pool to one side and a terraced garden with beds of irises and hydrangeas. Rows of Japanese maples lined the flagstone path leading up to the veranda.