Remember Tokyo

by Nick Wilkshire

  Charlie shook his head. “I did speak to Dr. Yamaguchi earlier and asked whether she had been in to visit Rob today, but he hadn’t seen her.”

  Kobayashi said nothing as he considered the coincidence that Kimura, who up until two days ago had been an almost constant fixture at Lepage’s bedside, had apparently fallen off the face of the earth around the time she learned that Lepage was to receive a visit from a Tokyo Police inspector. “There are, of course, many unregistered call centres in Tokyo — they are illegal and don’t keep employment records,” she added.

  “Right. Well, I’ve already asked the doctor to let me know if she shows up at the hospital, and I’ll do the same with Rob when I go see him after work today. That reminds me,” he said, remembering Elizabeth Farnsworth. “I bumped into a neighbour of Rob’s last night. A British woman who lives in his building.”

  “You were at Mr. Lepage’s apartment?” Kobayashi’s tone was even, but Charlie could tell she was fishing for an explanation.

  “No, no … I was in the neighbourhood and I just swung by his building. I met her in the lobby,” he said, a bit unsure as to why he was lying, or whether Kobayashi was buying it. He sensed she was not, but he carried on anyway. “She wasn’t aware that Rob was dating a Japanese woman.”

  “What was this woman’s relationship to Mr. Lepage?”

  “I gather they were intimate a few months ago, and had remained friends, apart from being neighbours. She did say they hadn’t seen much of each other for the past few weeks though, so it may not mean anything.”

  “Did she know Mr. Seger?”

  He shook his head. “No, I did ask her about Seger, but she’d never heard of him. Rob didn’t talk much about his work colleagues or friends, apparently. She also didn’t know anything about his family back in Canada.”

  Kobayashi frowned. “Unfortunate.”

  “I agree.”

  “I got access to Mr. Lepage’s email account,” she said, prompting an optimistic look from Charlie.

  “I meant to ask about that.”

  “I’m afraid there was no correspondence with Mr. Seger.” Kobayashi’s tone was apologetic now. “Or from anyone in Canada, either,” she added. “In fact, Mr. Lepage seems to have made very little use of his personal email account.”

  “Really? Nothing at all?”

  She shook her head. “A few routine emails to accounts at Nippon Kasuga, as well as some … garbage?”

  “You mean junk mail?”

  She smiled. “Yes, junk mail.”

  “I’m sure we’ll find out a lot more through his work email,” Charlie said, sipping the remnants of cappuccino foam at the bottom of his cup. When he looked back up, Kobayashi had an odd look on her face.

  “It seems that Nippon Kasuga has refused to consent to the release of Mr. Lepage’s email account information,” she said.

  “Can they do that?” He remembered a recent news story about the lengths to which a well-known internet service provider had gone to resist attempts by the authorities to access their clients’ account information.

  “I’m afraid so, for now.” Kobayashi seemed embarrassed. “We would have to obtain a court order to force them to divulge the account information.”

  “Like a warrant?”

  She nodded.

  “Would that be difficult to get? I mean, it is a homicide investigation.”

  Her expression seemed pained, and he remembered that officially it was still just a suspicious death as opposed to a formal homicide investigation. “I’m afraid the connection between Mr. Lepage’s email account and the deceased may not be obvious to a judge in this context.”

  Charlie nodded, understanding her predicament. “I suppose not. But what does it say about Nippon Kasuga that they won’t release it voluntarily?”

  She shrugged. “They say it’s standard policy, to protect the privacy of their customers’ financial information.”

  “I guess that sounds pretty reasonable,” he said, watching her reaction. She was clearly not buying the corporate line. “But you don’t agree?”

  “It may be so, but maybe not.”

  “I guess it’s not worth going to the trouble of getting a judge to sign off,” he said, more a statement than a question. She didn’t respond, but she looked stung and he realized she had interpreted his remark as a direct attack. Apart from not being what he intended, it was the equivalent of a slap in the face in Japanese culture, where direct challenges were a definite no-no. He cursed his ham-handedness. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest that you’re not doing everything you can.”

  She smiled. “It is I who should apologize. You must find the Japanese approach very … frustrating.”

  “Not at all.” He shook his head, though he was intrigued by Nippon Kasuga’s response, corporate policy or no corporate policy. It just didn’t sit right with him, and he sensed that Kobayashi felt the same way.

  “I should go.” She looked at her watch. “I have a meeting with my superior to discuss the progress on this case.”

  “I’ll let you know if I make contact with Ms. Kimura,” Charlie said as they got up and headed toward the door of the coffee shop.

  “Thank you,” Kobayashi said. “But please be careful.” He wondered what she meant as they shared a moment of silence, before she added: “Whether it is officially a homicide investigation or not, a man is dead.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Seeing the darkening sky outside his office window, Charlie checked the time and decided to save a draft of the email he had been working on for the past hour rather than try to finish it now. He was eager to get over to the hospital and talk to Rob Lepage. He was just as curious to see if Aiko Kimura would be there this evening, and how she would react if he asked her to meet with Kobayashi. He was in the process of shutting down his computer when he heard footsteps outside in the hall. Expecting Fraser to appear and assume her characteristic lean against his door jamb, he was disappointed to look up and see Denault there instead.

  “Oh, hi, Louis.”

  “I thought I heard you in here. Glad I caught you.”

  “Actually, I was just on my way out,” Charlie said. If he had hoped to discourage Denault with the statement, it didn’t seem to work. He took a seat in one of Charlie’s chairs.

  “I won’t take much of your time, but I do have a request.”

  Charlie bit back his irritation. He had put in more than a full day and he was in no mood to waste time filling in one of Denault’s administrative forms, but he decided to hear him out.

  “What’s up?”

  “How’s the property file going?”

  Charlie suppressed a sigh, but obviously wasn’t completely successful in concealing his irritation.

  “There’s no need to be defensive, Charlie.” Denault played with a cufflink. “I just would hate to see you get off on the wrong foot here, especially with the HOM so interested in keeping the momentum going.”

  Charlie chose his words carefully. It was true that he hadn’t put much effort into the property file in the past few days. On the other hand, from what he could tell, the broad strokes of what was on the table was a non-starter from Canada’s perspective, though he was sure Denault hadn’t characterized it that way in his briefings with the head of mission.

  “I’m still working on the logistics of the meeting,” he said, knowing he was on thin ice, given that he hadn’t called back to confirm his availability for a meeting.

  “The HOM would like an update.”

  “No problem. I’ll call them again first thing tomorrow and firm up a date, then I can give him a briefing.”

  “I was thinking now — I was on my way for our regular bilateral and I know he’ll be asking, so I thought it would be good if you can bring him up to speed yourself. I wouldn’t want to misstate your progress,” he added, crossing his legs and making himself comfortable in the chair.

  “Except that there’s not much to tell him right now,” Charlie said evenly.

>   “It won’t take long.” Denault stood and smoothed his pants. “Besides, he’s expecting you.”

  “Why is he expecting me?”

  “I said I’d swing by and see if you were still here.”

  “Well, in that case,” Charlie said, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in his voice. “I guess I’ll come along, though I’m not sure what I’m supposed to tell him.”

  “Relax, Charlie,” Denault said, slapping him on the shoulder in an overly familiar manner that Charlie didn’t appreciate. “It’s all very informal,” Denault added, adjusting his tie in the reflection offered by the glass-encased map of Tokyo that had come with Charlie’s office.

  It was almost seven by the time Charlie stepped onto the crammed westbound subway car, aided by a not-so-gentle push from one of the pair of uniformed, white-gloved platform attendants keeping people clear of the doors. He cursed Louis Denault as he let the crush of people gently push him toward the rear of the car, where he eventually stopped and grabbed hold of an overhead handle as the doors slid shut and the car moved off. The briefing with Philip Westwood had been a complete waste of time, though Charlie had known that going in. The only reason he could think of for Denault to insist on holding it was to try to make him look bad in front of the ambassador. But Westwood had seemed more interested in Charlie’s consular files, offering a few words of encouragement and a request to be kept apprised of important developments on both the consular and property files — the latter reference seemingly added for Denault’s benefit. For his part, Denault had seemed disappointed — even a little bitter — as they left the meeting, cut short by the head of mission himself, who had realized he was due at an impromptu cocktail party at the French ambassador’s residence.

  Charlie tried to put it out of his mind, the frustration of the experience serving only to ramp up his blood pressure as he stood on the crowded train. Turning his mind to Rob Lepage, it occurred to him that he hadn’t had a chance to contact him to let him know that he would be able to come over for a visit this evening after all. Then again, since visiting hours were until at least nine, he supposed it didn’t really matter, as Lepage would be laid up for another week. He made a mental note to ask Yamaguchi when he thought Lepage might be released.

  As the car began to slow and the intercom voice announced their arrival at Yoyogi Station, the crowd shifted as people made their way toward the doors, only to be replaced by newcomers arriving from the platform. One of them, a woman with a hairstyle similar to Kobayashi’s, reminded him of their trip together on the Metro, the smell of her perfume in his nose as they stood close. As they moved off again, he thought of Kobayashi’s comments about Aiko Kimura, wondering whether there was any significance to Kobayashi not being able to locate her on a list of registered call centre personnel. Maybe she was being paid off the books, but it could be something more. He decided to ask Lepage about her again — maybe he had remembered something about how they had met.

  Charlie followed the swell of people exiting onto the platform at Shinjuku Station and up the escalator, marvelling, as he still did regularly, at the orderly conduct of such vast congregations of people in such confined spaces. He was approaching the entrance to the hospital when he spotted a familiar profile heading down the steps onto the street, heading his way. On instinct, he ducked into a convenience store and pretended to look at the magazines as he kept a peripheral view of the street, watching as she walked by in a distressed leather jacket, tight jeans, and high-heeled leather boots — there was no mistaking Aiko Kimura. She wore a black and white checked scarf and her usual expression of distaste as she looked down at her phone. A pair of teenage boys on their way into the store almost tripped over each other’s feet as they took in her shapely figure.

  Charlie waited for a few seconds, then stepped out onto the sidewalk and looked east, immediately picking out the checkered scarf amongst the crowd headed back toward the Metro station he had just come from. He made a snap decision to follow, conscious that if he was going to try to do so unobserved, he would have to remember that he didn’t exactly blend in with the rest of the crowd.

  He stayed well back and was not surprised to see that she was making her way into Shinjuku Station, which meant that he would have to close the gap to make sure he could get on the same train. He had worked his way to within fifty feet of her by the time they hit the escalator, then watched as she boarded the crowded subway car before entering by the door at the far end, keeping an eye on her as she stood with her back to him by the other entrance. He was taking a big chance if she turned around, since he was the only Westerner in the crowd. But she was facing the other way, with her head down, focused on her phone. Charlie did his best to conceal himself among the bodies pressed around him as the car moved off, just in case. He needn’t have worried, since she kept her head down for three straight stops.

  Charlie glanced up at the subway map and sensed where they were headed, despite Kimura’s claim that she worked night shifts in Ueno, which lay in the opposite direction. Sure enough, just as the brakes came on to announce their fourth stop, Kimura looked up from her phone momentarily and then stepped out onto the platform at Roppongi Station, joining the thick flow of commuters headed up to street level. Charlie kept his distance as he followed her out of the station and onto a crowded street, managing to take a discreet photo of her in profile with his phone as she reached the top of the stairs. She continued walking with her head down, her attention divided between her phone and navigating the crowd in front of her.

  They proceeded away from the station, down a main street first, before taking a couple of turns and progressing onto less and less travelled streets. Luckily for Charlie, even these were still crowded enough that he didn’t feel exposed, as long as Kimura didn’t turn around. He watched as she made her way into a six-storey building that was crammed between a convenience store and a much taller apartment block. He stopped on the opposite side of the street, but he could see her through the glass of the entrance door standing in front of the only elevator. The outside of the building had a number of colourful signs depicting the various businesses in the building, with Japanese text beside a floor number.

  The elevator door slid open, and as she stepped inside and turned to face outward, he slipped behind a concrete pole, though he needn’t have bothered — she was still engrossed in her phone. As soon as the elevator door slid shut, he hurried across the street and into the building, keeping his eye on the display above the elevator as it went from two to three, then hit four and stayed there. He stood watching it until it went back to three, and then walked back outside and down the street, wondering what to do next. Taking the elevator up to the fourth floor was too risky, as the small building probably only had one business suite per floor, meaning he could find himself face to face with Kimura as he stepped off the elevator. On the other hand, he was curious as to what was on the fourth, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t a call centre.

  He was considering his next move when a young man in biker leather walked up to him and thrust a colourful flyer in his hand.

  “You like sexy girls?”

  He scanned the flyer, which depicted an array of scantily clad women in sultry poses below some Japanese text. His eye was drawn to the one line of English: Tokyo Dreams, next to the same logo he had seen on the fourth floor directory of the building Kimura had just entered.

  “Hottest ladies in Tokyo, just waiting for you, and the first drink’s free,” the man continued. He was in his early twenties, with sharp features and a number of facial piercings.

  “It’s a strip club?”

  “If that’s what you want it to be,” the other man said with a lopsided smile. “Come check it out,” he said, taking Charlie by the arm.

  Charlie resisted the tug and stood his ground. “No thanks.”

  “Come on, man. I know you’ll love it. You like topless?” He was following Charlie now, as he turned and began heading back toward the Metro station. “How about nake
d? We’ve got it all.”

  “I’m not interested.” Charlie continued on his path, made a mental note of the little street’s location and tucked the flyer into his pocket. He was pursued for fifty feet before the man finally gave up and turned his attention to a couple of young men who looked like they’d had a few too many.

  Back outside Roppongi Station, Charlie stepped out of the stream of charcoal suits and white shirts to think. The odd sensation he had felt from the moment he laid eyes on Aiko Kimura had just turned into distinct unease. He tried to be objective, reminding himself that there was no proof that she actually worked at the strip club, brothel, or whatever it was that occupied the fourth floor of the building she had just entered. So why wasn’t he surprised by the colourful brochure that he took out of his pocket and examined again? Kimura wasn’t featured on the pamphlet, but he had no trouble imagining her there. Then there was her mysterious disappearance ever since Kobayashi’s arrival on the scene at the hospital. And what about her non-existent job at a call centre that required her to keep such odd hours? He tucked the pamphlet back into his pocket and glanced at his watch, then hurried toward the entrance to the Metro.

  “Charlie? How’s it going?” Lepage seemed genuinely pleased to see him, Charlie thought, as he stepped into the room around quarter to eight. He had been mistaken about visiting hours, and had mustered all of the charm and goodwill he could manage to get past the nurse at the fifth floor reception, with a promise not to stay for more than a few minutes.

  “I’m good, Rob. I meant to get here earlier, but I got sidetracked.”

  “No worries. I was just watching soccer.” He gestured to the little flat screen on a table in the corner. “It’s the only thing I could find that doesn’t require me to understand Japanese.”

  “I thought maybe Aiko was here.”

  “Not tonight,” Lepage said, keeping his eyes on the television for a moment, before locating the remote and switching it off. Charlie considered challenging him, but realized that it was possible Kimura had not visited him, despite his having followed her from outside the hospital. “I had a visit from Elizabeth earlier today. She said you’d bumped into her and told her I was here.”