Missing in Tokyo

by Graham Marks

  He stopped at the edge of the pavement, cars, scooters, buses, bicycles streaming past him on his left, a constant flow of people to his right. Everything around him moving, him with nowhere to go. He supposed the only thing he could do now was get back to trying to find the Bar Belle, seeing if anyone there knew anything about Charlie, or why Alice didn’t want to see him. He really should make a move …

  Across the pavement he noticed a man pushing up the shutters of a shop to reveal the windows: windows totally full of cages, each about the size of big microwave, each with a tiny kitten or a puppy in it. Adam walked over to have a look, fascinated; you never saw pets shops in England any more, at least he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen one. A small, golden-coloured dachshund, standing in a cage at his eye level, looked right at him through the glass, tail wagging, the epitome of cute. If it could talk, thought Adam, it would be saying ‘Buy me!’. Feeling mildly depressed, standing there in front of a wall of boxed creatures, Adam turned and walked away. Everyone was selling something in this world, even a puppy. He didn’t look back.

  Sometimes, thought Adam, because that’s the way things were, after searching like your life depended on it, you found stuff when you weren’t really looking, had given up all hope and set your mind elsewhere. It was coming up to six o’clock and Adam was making his way towards the Gaspanic and happy hour. The last thing he felt was happy, but a drink surrounded by people who weren’t completely pissed off could well change his mood.

  He turned a corner into a street he thought would take him back in the right direction, a street he hadn’t been down before, and there it was. The Bar Belle. Or at least a black plastic sign, stuck out from a wall above a door, with red neon letters that spelt out the name. The sign was on, which should, if there was any kind of justice, mean the place was open. Adam almost ran to the entrance.

  3F was what it said on the sign, which he had now figured out meant the third floor, but, here in Tokyo, the first floor was at street level. He walked up two flights of dimly lit stairs and found himself on a small landing looking through a doorway. It was open. He nodded to himself, seeing this as a good omen. The entrance led into a room that, like the sign downstairs, was painted black and lit by red light bulbs. He took a deep breath and walked in.

  It was early, for a club, and the place looked empty, although it was hard to tell if there was anyone lurking in the deeper, air-conditioned shadows. Adam looked to his right, at the pool of white light where the bar was; no one there either. He walked over, pulled out a black vinyl upholstered stool and sat down with his back to the bar. Somebody was sure to turn up sooner or later, and while he waited he tried to imagine Charlie and Alice here … working. God, his dad would go nuts if he saw the place, because it was hard not to think what could go on in the booths lining both the walls.

  ‘You been here long?’

  A female voice, American accent, broke the silence, and as Adam jerked his head round to see who was talking he could hear the bones and muscle in his so-tense neck click and crack as they twisted. Behind him a Japanese woman stood at the bar; she was small, her black hair streaked with shiny platinum blonde, with multiple ear piercings and a monochrome tattoo of a roaring lion’s head covering most of her right shoulder. Her lipstick was so dark it almost looked black, her skin was white like snow and she was wearing a skin-tight, sleeveless black T-shirt that made it very obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra.

  ‘No … no, not long …’ Adam, glancing down at the woman’s suddenly prominent nipples, could feel himself blushing and looked back up again.

  The woman looked right at him and smiled, her lips slightly parted, and Adam was sure he could see a pair of arrow-sharp teeth. ‘What can I get you?’

  ‘Ah …’ the teeth really were pointed, ‘… a beer? Please …’

  ‘You from UK?’

  ‘Yeah … London.’ Adam thought the woman looked like she’d come straight off the set of a horror flick. ‘You?’

  ‘Me? I’m from LA, originally, got here by way of Anchorage, Sydney, Auckland, Manila and a good few less well-known and all together best forgotten places in between.’ She turned and got a bottle from one of the glass-fronted fridges behind her, chunked it open and put it in front of him. ‘Glass?’

  Adam shook his head, picked the bottle up and took a pull. The beer was so cold he thought his teeth would break, and he could feel it going all the way to his stomach, an icy hand moving down his chest.

  ‘Have I met you before?’

  Adam shook his head. ‘No, I’m sure I’d remember … why?’

  ‘You look familiar.’

  ‘My sister worked here.’

  ‘She did? Who was that, then?’

  ‘Charlie Grey.’

  Pause. Silence. Tight smile.

  ‘You don’t say.’

  ‘She’s gone missing.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’ The woman frowned. ‘We had the police all over us like a rash, not good for business, and then Alice took off like a rabbit. Left me two girls down, which was a shitter.’

  ‘Is this your place?’

  ‘Mine?’ The woman laughed. ‘I’m just the mama-san around here, look after the girls, make sure everyone understands the rules …’ She stopped and looked sideways at Adam. ‘Why’re you here?’

  ‘I’m trying to find Charlie.’

  ‘You come over with your parents?’

  Truth or lie? Did it matter? ‘I’m on my own.’

  ‘That right?’ Raised eyebrow, looking him up and down. ‘Where you staying?’

  ‘Some place called the New Economy?’

  ‘And you’ve come here …’ the woman indicated, with her chin, over Adam’s shoulder at the club behind him, ‘… to check out if someone here might know where she could be and forgot to tell the cops?’

  There was an edge to the woman’s voice, like she thought Adam was accusing her of something. ‘Look, all we’ve heard direct is what Alice said when she called and told my parents Charlie’d gone missing –’

  ‘That she’d seen her walk out of here with a customer?’ the woman butted in. ‘Bullshit! Never happened!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Like I said, there are rules; this isn’t a whore house, no walking off the premises with clients – they want to meet later, do whatever for whatever, that’s fine by me. But your sister did not leave here with a customer, OK? I told the cops that, and if that little bitch Alice had still been here when they arrived I’d’ve made her tell them the exact same thing, too.’

  ‘When did she go?’ Adam couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing, but then he’d never believed Charlie would be so stupid as to get mixed up in something she couldn’t handle.

  ‘Alice? She went that same weekend Charlie’s supposed to’ve “disappeared”.’ The woman made inverted commas with her fingers. ‘Except Charlie had been gone a couple of days already; I hadn’t seen the two girls together for some time and I’ve not seen Alice since she took her money that Saturday night. Like I told the cops.’

  ‘I saw Alice today.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Round here, somewhere … she ran away the moment she saw me.’

  ‘Alice, round here? You sure?’

  Adam shrugged. ‘Looked like her.’

  ‘She’d’ve pissed her pants if she’d seen me …’

  21

  Flavorous and delicious communication

  The woman, this goth/vampire bar manager-cum-Head Girl who said she was called Miki, hadn’t got a lot of other information to give Adam; also, as they talked, customers began arriving in ones and twos and as they did so girls started appearing from the back of the club to join them at their chosen table or booth.

  The girls, all of them European, most of them blonde like Charlie, were in some kind of cliché costume: nurse, schoolgirl, punk geisha – a lot of make-up, not a huge amount of clothes. Adam found himself wondering what Alice and Charlie had dressed up as and then realised he rea
lly did not want to know that kind of detail. It was becoming obvious, too, that Miki felt she’d done her bit and it was time for him to leave the premises. He was taking up space better used by a paying customer.

  ‘What d’you think happened to Charlie if she didn’t go off with a customer?’ Adam got off the stool and put his empty bottle on the bar.

  ‘I never said she didn’t go off with a customer.’ Miki took the bottle. ‘I just said she didn’t leave here with one. Big difference.’

  ‘Did you ever meet Alice’s boyfriend?’

  ‘Steve? Yeah, he’d come by most nights, to pick ’em up. Why?’

  ‘You’ve not seen him since either?’

  ‘Look, guy, they all three of them dropped off the radar at around the same time. For all I know they just decided to go on their merry way and forgot to tell anyone. Working here is not what you call a career move, know what I mean?’

  ‘So what’s Alice still doing round here?’

  ‘I think you’ve made the tragic error of mistaking me for someone who gives a shit.’ Miki said something in Japanese to a waitress who’d just joined her behind the bar, then looked back at Adam, a blank expression on her deathly pale face.

  ‘Well, thanks for your time …’ Adam waved as he moved towards the door.

  ‘Aren’t you forgetting something, guy?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your bar tab. ¥1,000 please, plus entrance fee.’

  Outside on the street Adam looked up at the Bar Belle’s sign. ¥1,000 for a bottle of beer? What a rip-off place! As he stood by the door, figuring out what to do next, three Japanese men in business suits walked past him and went up the stairs. They looked exactly like all the people already up there in the club, paying through the nose to sit with girls in ‘sexy’ fancy dress. But did the fact that no one was forcing anyone to go there make it less of a con? Did he care?

  As he walked off, even more determined now to go to the Gaspanic and forget about everything for just an hour or so, he thought what he should do was come back later, much later when the girls were leaving. Maybe one of them would be able to tell him more than Miki seemed to want to. He’d seen on a sign by the entrance that the club closed at 3.00 a.m.; Adam looked at his watch – somehow the afternoon had managed to disappear and it was already seven o’clock – only eight hours to waste before he had to be back at the Bar Belle, but he was sure he could find a way of doing it …

  Tony Grey put the phone down and looked over at his wife, sitting at the kitchen table, waiting.

  Sarah Grey raised both eyebrows, nervous. ‘Well?’

  ‘They, um, they worked out what the password was and got into Adam’s computer.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And there was an email from Charlie …’

  Sarah sat forward with a jolt. ‘What did it say? How long have they known?’

  ‘They found it last night, Sarah, and it’s just her, apologising for not being in touch. It was sent yesterday, and Venner said they’re 99 per cent sure she’s the one who actually sent it.’

  ‘What d’you mean, 99 per cent … ?’

  ‘Well, there’s no way of knowing for certain, is there? Not like a phone call. Seems to be in her style, Venner said, having looked at the other ones she’s sent.’ Tony sat down at the table. ‘They’ve replied “from” Adam, to see what happens, and they’re talking to the company she has her account with, to see if there’s any way they can work out where the email came from. He said he’d let us know as soon as he had any more information.’

  ‘Nice of him.’

  ‘Look, it’s something at least.’

  Sarah shook her head. ‘Did you check with the Barretts … anything else from Adam?’

  ‘Suzy’s dad, Chris, he said he’d call if anything else came in.’

  ‘What about our email, have you looked at that?’

  ‘He’s not going to be sending us any messages. We’re not supposed to know he’s gone anywhere.’

  ‘I’m going to kill him when he gets home – what does he think he’s up to, Tony?’

  ‘I told you what Suzy said. He thought no one was doing anything, that we were just sitting round thinking Charlie was dead and not trying to find her.’ Tony got up. ‘Want a cup of coffee? I’m parched.’

  ‘Tea, please …’ Sarah stared out of the window, her face seeming to shiver, almost like a badly tuned TV picture, ready to fall apart. ‘D’you think he’s right? That we haven’t been trying hard enough to find her? I still want to kill the little shit for taking off without saying anything, but if he’s right I’m sort of glad he’s there … that someone’s there …’

  ‘No, I don’t think he’s right, but I know what you mean about someone being there. I just hope he’s being careful …’

  Before making his way to the Gaspanic, Adam had gone in search of an Internet café. He wanted to send Suzy another email, not that there was a whole lot to tell her, but he needed to download to someone about what had happened, about Alice running away and that what she’d said about Charlie leaving the club with a customer possibly not being true.

  Tucked away on the second floor of a narrow building on the Higashi-dori he found what he wanted. The place was like a corridor, with a line of keyboards and flat screens, a wall of vending machines and a bored-looking man sitting behind a desk, smoking and taking the money. Adam paid and took one of the spare seats, logging on and checking his email. No reply from Suzy. Odd … what made her life so busy she couldn’t take a moment to say even just hi? Whatever. He wrote a quick résumé of his day, sent it and left.

  Coming out of the Internet café he realised he was hungry, that if he didn’t eat something he’d get rat-arsed the moment he started drinking. Not a good plan. Not if he still wanted to be in fairly reasonable condition at three in the morning. Opposite, just down the street, he could see a set of golden arches all lit up but didn’t want any more of that, and he knew there was an English pub quite nearby that he’d passed earlier, noticing its sign outside advertising ‘fish’n’chips, ham’n’eggs & welsh rabbit’. Somehow, no.

  Walking down the street he spotted a noodle bar and stopped outside. Perfect … when in Japan, eat Japanese fast food. The place turned out to be part vending machine, part restaurant, but as there were no instructions in English, Adam had to hang around for what seemed like for ever, watching other customers, until he worked out how the system operated and felt he had a better than good chance of getting the dish he wanted.

  Once he got his plate, it took almost less time to eat the meal than he’d spent trying to figure out how to make a purchase, but the meatballs and thick noodles in a kind of spicy soup were both tasty and filling and he felt ready for some down time. He deserved at least a bit of R&R.

  * * *

  The Gaspanic was a dive, like the guide had said, but it was a dive that certainly knew how to cook. Ten thirty and the place was already packed, loud and so smoky Adam felt like he’d had half a pack without lighting a single cigarette.

  Adam was on his third, maybe fourth beer, and was with a group of Canadian backpackers, en route for Goa he seemed to remember one of them saying. They were friendly, they were funny and they were buying rounds; he was enjoying himself, more relaxed than he’d felt since Alice had called, what, ten, or was it eleven days ago? One or the other.

  About 11:15 he found himself surrounded by a mixture of Americans and South Africans. He bought them a round because it seemed like the decent thing to do and then he found himself with two beers in each hand because he’d won a competition for the person whose name meant something in Japanese when you said it backwards. Adam – or mada, which someone told him meant ‘not ready’ – didn’t even realise there’d been a competition.

  This was when he completely lost track of time and some guy, whose name he thought might be Tommy or Timmy or maybe Frank, introduced him to another guy, this one Japanese, called possibly Itchy. The music was very loud, very buzzy and he wasn’t really
concentrating. Anyway, this Itchy bloke was with another group of people and Adam joined them because they were laughing a lot and there was this one Japanese girl who was SO pretty Adam thought she was AMAZING. Really! She seemed to like him too, but as, from what he could make out, she didn’t speak English, it was difficult to be absolutely sure. Then his four beers had gone, he didn’t know exactly where, and Itchy, was that his name? Nice man, anyway, because he gave him another one.

  There was something he was supposed to be doing, Adam was sure there was, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember what it might be; couldn’t have been that important, right?

  The cordless handset had been on the arm of the chair Tony was sitting in as he watched the early evening news. When it started to ring he jumped, and only just stopped it from falling on to the floor.

  ‘Hello, 2671.’

  ‘Tony? Chris Barrett, Suzy’s dad.’

  ‘Right, Chris … hello …’

  ‘Thought you’d want to know, Suzy’s had another email from Adam. I told her, pain of death, she had to tell me the moment she got one.’

  ‘What does it say?’

  ‘She’s just printing it off – d’you want me to get her to forward it to you as well?’

  ‘Could you?’

  ‘Soon as we’ve finished. She hasn’t emailed him, like we said, so he doesn’t know the game’s up yet. What are you – oh, here’s Suzy …’

  Tony heard muffled voices at the other end of the line and could hear the thump of his heart, beating in his ears. ‘Chris?’

  ‘Sorry, Tony, I’ve got it …’ Papers rustled. ‘He says, “Hi Suzy, weird day today. I saw Alice and she saw me, but she ran away. Totally not what I expected …” Alice is your daughter’s friend, right, the one who phoned?’

  ‘Yeah, the one who told us about Charlie.’ Tony looked round for the remote that would let him turn down the sound on the TV but couldn’t find it; he stood up. ‘What else does he say?’