Last Stop Tokyo

by James Buckler

  One of the officers motioned for Alex to follow. He obeyed without thought, walking between them, moving automatically through a series of security doors down into the hidden recesses of the airport. He had no time to think ahead or plan what he should say, he just marched alongside mutely, his footsteps sounding time with theirs. They turned down a steep stairwell and through an open door into a windowless room.

  A senior officer was talking on a telephone mounted on the wall at the far side of the room. He broke off his conversation as they entered and turned to face them. He was older, his bearing authoritative and upright, as if preparing for a parade. There was a desk and a chair under a strip light so powerful that Alex had to squint when the officer told him to sit. He placed the holdall on the inspection table and emptied his pockets as instructed. First his wallet, phone and change. Then his passport and Naoko’s letter. The officer opened the passport and held it up to check the photograph for authenticity.

  ‘Do you have anything you want to tell me?’ he asked. ‘You seem unsettled.’ He spoke with a severity that was disconcerting, his voice too loud in the confinement of the room.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Alex said. ‘I had a rough flight. That’s all.’

  ‘You are coming to Japan as a tourist?’

  ‘No. I work here.’

  The officer flicked to the visa page of the passport. ‘You live in Tokyo?’

  ‘Yes. In Koenji.’

  ‘You have your gaijin card?’

  Alex reached to the table for his wallet. He searched inside the compartments and found his resident’s card tucked away with some old receipts and scraps of paper. As he pulled it out something else caught his eye. He handed the ID card across the desk.

  The officer examined it carefully. Satisfied, he tossed it on to the table.

  ‘What was your point of departure today?’ he asked.

  Alex could sense the implication in the word before he said it. ‘Bangkok.’

  The official stepped into the light. He pointed at the holdall on the table. His lips and teeth were wet with anticipation. ‘Is there anything in your luggage that would alert the detection dog, Mr Malloy?’

  Alex looked at the holdall, the brown leather worn and cracked under the stark lighting. The maker’s emblem was embossed on one side: St James’s of London. It occurred to him that the bag had belonged to his father. Thank God he wasn’t here to see this now, Alex thought. His instinct was to buy as much time as possible, even if it was futile. He could sense time pouring away fast.

  ‘No,’ he said.

  The officer looked to his subordinates and spoke quickly in Japanese. The nearest one stepped forward and began to unfasten the zipper. He was young, with a crew cut and a nervous expression that made him look guilty. He was wearing pristine white cotton gloves with buttons at the wrist. He lifted out the layer of folded shirts from the top of the bag and placed them one by one on the table. The second officer began to unfold the clothes and carefully feel along the seams and check inside the pockets. He took out a pair of flip-flops and held them up to the light, squeezing the soles between his fingers. He flicked through the pages of a book, standing over the desk to catch anything that might fall out. Alex thought of the stories Jun had told him about the foreigner’s prison at Fuchu. Tales of hard labour and punishment cells. Tales that made his time at Ushigome seem easy. He felt like a swimmer far from shore.

  As they searched, the officers placed all the checked items into plastic storage boxes and stacked them at the side of the table. Soon Alex knew there was nothing inside the bag except the object they were searching for. The last grains of hope were tumbling down. The room grew smaller.

  Reaching down into the bottom of the holdall, the young officer gently retrieved the folded beach towel and lifted it out of the bag. It was obvious from his movements that he could sense the bundle had a weight and bulk that was out of proportion to its size. He placed it on the table and started to unfold the material slowly, as if he were removing a bandage from a wound. The package was inside, where Alex had wrapped it. The officers all moved forward to look closer, their faces widening with excitement at their discovery. Alex felt his jaw tighten.

  ‘Were you aware this was in your luggage?’ the senior official asked.

  Alex nodded, his mouth too dry to speak.

  ‘Do you know what’s inside?’

  He nodded again.

  ‘You are aware that any form of narcotics is illegal in Japan?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said.

  The officer looked at one of his juniors. He stepped forward and took a sharp knife from a pouch on his belt. He picked up the parcel and held the point against one side, applying minimal pressure, as if trying to protect the contents from damage. He began to pull the knife gently across the seam.

  ‘Wait,’ Alex said.

  The officer paused, startled at the interruption. The blade had barely pierced the protective insulation tape.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Before you open it,’ Alex said, ‘there’s something I need to show you.’

  He reached down and took his wallet from the tabletop. He took out the business card he had found earlier and held it out across the desk. The officer read it, turning the card over in his hand.

  ‘What is this?’ he asked hesitantly.

  ‘This is the direct number for Inspector Saito at Ushigome police station,’ Alex said. ‘Call him and tell him to come here. I won’t say anything else until he arrives.’

  He remembered the solemn face of Officer Tomada, forcing him to accept the card as he was released from custody. He was grateful now that she had been so insistent. Saito’s name felt like a solitary lifeline.

  ‘Why should I call him?’ the customs officer asked. ‘The police have no jurisdiction here.’

  Alex looked up through the harsh light pouring down from the ceiling. He hardened his face for effect. ‘Inspector Saito is a senior officer in the Ushigome crime division,’ he said. ‘If you open that package without him present, you’ll be disrupting a major investigation.’

  31

  IT WAS LATE in the evening when the inspector arrived. He wordlessly assumed authority as he entered the room and hung his raincoat on the rack by the door. Both of the young customs officers bowed to him in deference and he stood upright, waiting patiently for the supervisor to follow. Finally,grudgingly, he did so and Saito accepted his concession of command with a curt dip of his small, grey head.

  Alex was unsure whether to feel relief or apprehension at his presence. He remained still as Saito took a seat, staring coldly at the silver-bound package on the table. It lay in the glare of the spotlight like a secret exposed.

  ‘I see my warning to you went unheeded, Malloy-san,’ he said.

  Alex kept his voice clear and level. He knew that Saito wasn’t going to respond to pleading. ‘I had no choice, Inspector. You know who I’m dealing with.’

  ‘What did you tell the customs officials?’

  ‘I just made up a story to buy some time. It was all I could think of.’

  Saito touched a finger to the slit cut in the corner of the plastic wrapping, peeling back the tape around the edges. ‘I knew you were headed for some kind of trouble, but it looks like you’ve outdone yourself.’

  ‘It wasn’t my idea, believe me.’

  ‘So you were pressured into this scheme to pay off your debt?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘So why am I here?’

  ‘You said you would help me before, Inspector. Now I want to take you up on the offer.’

  Saito adjusted his glasses. His eyes were calm and unreadable behind the lenses. ‘Why now? Why didn’t you call me when this proposal was first made to you?’

  ‘I had no idea how you would react. I didn’t know if you would believe me or not. I could have just created more trouble for myself.’

  ‘Don’t treat me like a fool, Malloy-san. You took your chances to see if you could get away with it. If the cu
stoms officers hadn’t stopped you, I’m sure you wouldn’t have felt the need to contact me.’

  ‘I’m not doing this for personal gain,’ Alex said. ‘You know how dangerous these people are. I was hoping you could help me out of this somehow.’

  Saito leaned back in his chair, his chin raised slightly and his head tilted as if trying to gain a better vantage point of the scene before him. ‘And what service do you think I can perform for you?’

  ‘You can explain my situation to the customs authorities. Let them know how I ended up here.’

  ‘What do I get out of this?’ he asked. ‘What can you do for me?’

  Alex sensed a flicker of hope. ‘What do you want?’ he asked.

  Without hesitation, Saito said, ‘Who organized this?’

  ‘It was one of the prisoners I was locked up with at Ushigome. One of the older men who looked like they ran the place.’

  ‘Just one man? That’s all?’

  ‘There was another man with him. Kind of a bodyguard. And also one other.’

  ‘Who was that?’

  ‘A go-between who set everything up. He was at Ushigome with me as well.’

  ‘This isn’t exactly prime information,’ Saito said with a resigned shrug. ‘I need more. I need names.’

  Alex paused for a moment. ‘I can’t do that, Inspector.’

  ‘Why not? These people aren’t exactly your friends.’

  ‘I’m not trying to protect anyone. I’m just looking out for myself. As soon as I give you a name, I won’t have anything left to trade.’

  ‘Well, there’s one name that I have already. You can confirm that for me, at least.’

  ‘Who?’

  Saito reached down and lifted the piece of folded paper from the tabletop. He carefully smoothed out the creases and spread Naoko’s letter out on the desk.

  ‘This is practically a confession,’ he said. ‘It’s even signed.’

  ‘But it says that she wanted no part of this.’

  ‘She didn’t try to stop you, though, did she? She didn’t alert the authorities. That makes her complicit under the law.’

  Alex shook his head slowly but deliberately. ‘No, Inspector. She has nothing to do with any of this.’

  ‘Of course she does. It’s all written here.’

  ‘I can give you all the details you want of everyone involved. I can give you the name that I know and descriptions of everyone I met. I can give you phone numbers. But I won’t say anything against Naoko.’

  ‘Why not? What has she done for you?’

  ‘She’s innocent of any involvement in this.’

  ‘Even if you tell me about these others, it means nothing. What offences have they actually committed? What can you prove? Give me Naoko and I will try to work something out for you. Maybe you will even be able to go home without prosecution.’

  Alex remained steadfast. There was no part of him that wanted to accept the offer. ‘No,’ he said.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it’s not right.’

  Saito got up from the chair and walked over to the coat rack. He pulled his overcoat on and fastened the buttons. He opened the door to leave.

  ‘So you won’t help me?’ Alex asked.

  ‘I don’t have any reason to.’

  ‘That’s it?’

  Saito turned and gave Alex a sharp stare. ‘You don’t have anything I want,’ he said. He called the young customs officer forward and asked for his knife. The officer nodded dutifully and handed it to him.

  The inspector walked towards Alex, into the light, and picked up the package from the desktop. He ran the blade of the knife along the open corner and sliced through the thick layers of plastic wrapping. He tipped the widened opening down towards the table and the contents shifted inside. With a rush, a stream of dry, pale sand ran out in a thick flow and settled in a perfect mound on the table.

  Alex watched the inspector fold the blade of the knife away. The senior customs officer came forward and raked his fingers through the pile, as if trying to find some traces of contraband hidden inside. Saito opened his briefcase and placed the empty packaging inside.

  ‘Is that what I think it is?’ Alex asked, looking down at the fine sand spread across the table. It was the white Andaman Island sand from the hotel’s river-front beach.

  ‘Whatever it is, it’s not illegal,’ Saito said. ‘It was unlucky for you the residue on the wrapping alerted the security dog. Fortunately, you can’t be arrested for residue.’

  ‘How did you know about this?’

  He wiped some stray grains of sand from his coat and looked at Alex with a weary air. ‘Because Ms Yamamoto has been wise enough to telephone me already.’

  ‘From Thailand?’

  ‘No. She’s in Tokyo. She flew back a few hours ago.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘She has what you were expecting to find inside this package. She’s already told me everything.’

  ‘So what happens now?’

  ‘Now she wants to make a deal.’

  32

  IT WAS RUSH hour in Shinjuku station. The platforms and concourses were jammed with passengers, secretaries and salesmen marching shoulder to shoulder as they forced a passage through the crowds, fighting to catch the packed commuter trains home. The beat of train carriages shunting over the rails and the scream of hydraulic brakes echoed around the vast hall. Naoko walked steadily against the flow.

  Near the Chuo line platform, she took the steps down to a long passage lined with coin lockers. Row after row of grey-fronted cabinets, each identical to the next. There must be thousands of them in every station in the city, she thought. Who knew what secrets they contained? She selected an empty locker and opened the door. Checking no one was watching, she opened her suitcase and took out a plastic 7–11 shopping bag. She placed it inside and stood for a moment, looking at it lying there, the handles twisted and knotted together. All that effort and heartache for a few pounds of chemical poison. So much trouble over so little.

  It had taken most of the night for her to make up her mind. Lying there, watching the ceiling fan spin above her, listening to Alex toss and turn, the cold chills of anxiety dreams forming in beads of sweat on his back. She knew he was reckless enough to go through with it, to storm through the airport like he was storming a barricade, but he was also reckless enough to get caught. Naoko could see that.

  She had felt bad about deceiving him, but she was positive it was the only way. If she had tried to discuss it, Alex would have been too stubborn to change his mind. He would have tried to stick to his plan, just to satisfy his sense of honour. Naoko knew this wasn’t the right time for abstract notions like honour. Practical solutions were her only concern. She had been through the security checks at Narita many times and had never been stopped or questioned before. Surely if she kept her mind clear and acted as usual she would have a good chance. It was true that the airport officials had been trained to focus their attention on foreign travellers entering Japan. Alex seemed to stand out more than most. A Japanese woman was the lowest of their priorities. The more she had considered the options available, the more this had seemed the best chance of success. Like Alex had said, it was all just a question of nerve.

  She paid the five-hundred-yen fee and closed the locker. There was a plastic key with a round number tag attached and Naoko memorized it, then ripped the tag from the fob and threw it in a bin. She locked the door and placed the key in her bag. She climbed back up the steps to the main hall and followed the signs for the exit that led to Yasakuni Dori. It was dusk and the neon hoardings were switching on, beaming down from buildings overhead. The streets were scattered with bright-eyed touts handing out flyers for topless bars. Silent monks standing on the corners held out their begging bowls, their eyes cast down. There was the sharp scent of Korean barbecue from hidden kitchens and the bright fluorescent lights of the video arcades. Tokyo, always alive, she thought. It was good to be back on home ground.<
br />
  Naoko smiled to herself as she pushed her way through the crowds and started walking down to Golden Gai, to the all-night café where she had told Inspector Saito to meet her.

  She saw Alex at a table in the window. His face was drawn, almost hollowed out, and he was sitting back in his chair with his arms closed tightly around him. Saito was sitting opposite, upright and calm, as always, blowing hard on his black coffee, the steam spiralling up from the paper cup. They both saw her as she entered.

  She touched her fingers to Alex’s hand under the table as she took a seat. ‘We’re even now,’ she said. ‘I think that makes up for everything I did to get you into trouble in the first place.’

  He turned to her and smiled slowly, almost reluctantly. ‘You really are crazy,’ he said.

  ‘Believe me, you haven’t seen anything yet.’

  Saito sipped his coffee. ‘This is very touching,’ he said, ‘but this isn’t the time for heartfelt reconciliations. You are both in serious trouble.’

  ‘I called you voluntarily, Inspector,’ Naoko said. ‘I could have just gone through with the delivery as instructed but I thought the best course of action was to speak to you and come clean. I don’t want the supply of drugs on my conscience.’ She took the key from her bag and dropped it on to the table. ‘What you want is in a locker and this is the key. You can have it. Just tell me that both Alex and I are safe, then I’ll tell you where it is.’

  ‘And you think that will be the end of it?’

  ‘You’ll never find it on your own. There are thousands just like it all over the city. I know you aren’t really interested in us. We aren’t behind any of this, really. You want the people who set this whole business up.’

  Saito shook his head. ‘I’m afraid it’s not going to be that simple. You both have only limited options now, so I propose you listen to me and make a decision fast. Firstly, you could throw that key away and we can all go our separate ways. I can’t prosecute you without evidence, so you will have no problem with the police. But you will have a big problem with a man called Ichiro Tanaka. I wouldn’t recommend crossing him, but then I’m sure you’ve already considered this or you wouldn’t have called me. Secondly, you could go ahead and deliver the narcotics to him, as arranged. That way, you keep him happy, but then I will have cause to pursue you. Distributing illegal substances in this country is a serious offence and I will devote as much energy to prosecuting you as I will to Tanaka. Thirdly, you can show me that you believe in the rule of law and help me catch the real criminals. You can guess which choice I prefer. You’re a smart young woman, Ms Yamamoto. I think you’ve always known that this is your only true option or you wouldn’t have contacted me once you were safely in the country.’