by Barry Lancet
The history and lore about Japanese swords are also accurate. The best Japanese blades command respect around the world. Practices for testing them mentioned in these pages are based on historical documents. Of course, most tests were not of the nature described here. The firearms test is factual. I was not able to confirm whether a koto sword passed between the “cousins,” although many items were exchanged, so people well grounded in Japanese history assure me it is well within the realm of possibility.
The tea bowls mentioned in these pages exist. I have seen one and have been informed there are more. As for the other Chinese objects in this narrative, scholars have documented the extensive collection of Chinese art assembled by the Qing Dynasty (1644–1912), as well as the organized transportation of thousands of trunks of art and other treasure in advance of the Japanese invasion. In addition, with the weakening of the Qing Dynasty, there were reports of massive amounts disappearing, much of it likely under the watchful eyes of the more powerful eunuchs in the Forbidden City, possibly beginning decades earlier.
During the war years, looting in China and throughout Southeast Asia was rampant not only by Japanese parties but also by many other local powers, from warlords and other warring factions to bandits and local politicos. The existence of substantial hidden treasure troves has been the subject of endless speculation and sparse reportage, though thorough documentation remains scarce.
All the history and lore about kendo is factual. The legendary tenth-dan kendoka Moriji Mochida (1885–1974) is a revered figure in the field. The Nakamura Kendo Club is a fictitious dojo, meant to be representative of the many dojos throughout Japan. The martial art is alive and well and plays a positive role in the mental and physical training of those who practice it, regardless of age.
Delving into the varied and quixotic history of Yokohama was a pleasure. All the facts about the Japanese port city, an easy thirty-minute train ride from Tokyo Station, are accurate. The city itself is vibrant, with a thriving Chinatown that plays host to residents and institutions from both Taiwan and mainland China. The Chinese cemetery was at one time the serene yet frayed-around-the-edges place depicted in these pages, although improvements are made periodically. The waiting dead were still on the grounds during my initial visit to the cemetery a number of years ago.
Wu’s adventures in China as a young doctor are fictional. His more arduous escapades are symbolic of the many atrocities of the time. His village, too, is imaginary, although it was drawn with a careful eye toward the records of similar villages from the same period. Chinese historical references, whether in the narration or a conversation between characters, are accurate.
Chinese “family groups” serve useful functions around the world. I’m told their structures vary depending on the size of the Chinese expatriate population. The back alleys of Yokohama Chinatown are there to this day, as are shops similar to the ones sketched in Tokyo Kill, although periodic spurts in prosperity tend to lessen the number of “colorful” stores and alleyways in the area.
The spycraft in this book is based in part on an accidental encounter I had with a Soviet spy in Tokyo during the last days of the Cold War. From what I can gather, aside from the fact that a spy’s arsenal has been enlarged to encompass the Internet and digital paraphernalia, face-to-face exchanges remain vital, and the underlying techniques unchanged.
Kazuo Takahashi, the fictional Kyoto art dealer in these pages, voices a lament dear to many Japanese I have talked with over the years, and one I thought worth recording.
On a lighter note, Gyoku-ryu, or Jewel Dragon, the saké of choice in the spy sequence, is shelved under the Tamagawa brand, which has a history of some one hundred and seventy years. The bewitching drink is conjured up at Kinoshita Brewery, in Kyoto Prefecture. The coffeehouse Chatei Hatou is a treasured hideaway for java hounds. It is tucked way down a side street in Shibuya, not too far from the Shibuya Police headquarters.
Bridgetown is the capital of Barbados, and the Accra Beach Hotel, Oistins Bay Gardens, and Turtle Beach are all actual destinations.
As many longtime residents of Miami know, the Biltmore, the Mayfair, GreenStreet, and Los Gallegos are real places. GreenStreet is a Coconut Grove institution. Once a modest coffeehouse for locals, a makeover put it squarely on the tourist trail as well. Happily, the old coffeehouse still puts in an appearance in the quieter moments of the day.
A FINAL NOTE
Two separate chance meetings with Japanese war veterans were the inspiration for this book. Each man, in his own way, was not unlike the senior Miura.
When I returned to Japan to stay several decades ago, many veterans were still alive, and hopeful. Back then, if you stayed long enough to learn the language, you might run across these former soldiers—survivors haunted by the secrets they bore. A defeated nation had turned away from its military men at the end of World War II, and forced them into a soul-suffocating silence.
For years no one wanted to hear their stories. For years no one wanted to remember. Those few who attempted to speak out were soon silenced by embarrassed relatives or friends, or chastised by employers or government officials, sometimes severely.
Decades later, when China first opened its doors, and long before prosperity started to emerge in the bigger cities, many veterans returned to the villages their troops had occupied, and tried to undo some of the damage. The onetime conquerors brought gifts and food and money.
It was all they could think to do.
This book is for them. And to anyone, anywhere, willing to extend a hand across the water.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I mentioned in Japantown that it takes many hands to launch a publication, and the observation remains true in this second outing. And once again, I have been extremely fortunate in the people who have helped.
Sarah Knight, my hard-charging editor at Simon & Schuster, offered timeless advice, and her insights were as sharp as ever. Others on the S&S team continue to amaze me with their effort and expertise: Lance Fitzgerald champions foreign rights sales for the series; Molly Lindley worked to finish up some essential final touches; Jae Song produced a stunning jacket for Tokyo Kill that lives up to its predecessor; the production team of Lewelin Polanco, Kathy Higuchi, Anne Cherry, and James Walsh performed their magic during the final stages with admirable precision; Elina Vaysbeyn and Meg Cassidy are handling marketing and publicity for the book; Lauren Pires helped launch the audio book for the first Jim Brodie book; Kaitlin Olson helped with vital last-minute essentials. Asian sales manager Jill Su ably traversed Asian cities in support of the series and pulled off some minor miracles. And once again Jonathan Karp, Richard Rhorer, and Marysue Rucci lent their support to this book.
Robert Gottlieb, my agent at Trident Media Group, has been a stout voice of support from the outset and has never wavered. Erica Silverman, also of TMG, along with Brian Pike of CAA, placed the Jim Brodie series with J. J. Abrams’s Bad Robot Productions and Warner Bros. for a television drama. Also, a hearty thanks to Greg Pulis for handling the legal tangles. Back at Trident, Mark Gottlieb and Adrienne Lombardo lent their able hands to various aspects of the publishing process.
William Scott Wilson, renowned author and translator, and his wife Emily Wilson, teacher and editor, offered a guiding hand around Miami, as well as some memorable evenings and sights. Their gracious hospitality allowed Jim Brodie to follow in our footsteps. Their son Henry gets extra credit for being a good sport and granting permission for me to sit in on his kendo practice, in order that I might see how the traditional Japanese sport is practiced stateside.
One of the benefits of moving into a new arena—for me, the world of fiction—is the chance to meet new and interesting people, and make new friends. That has come in many forms and from many different directions. Among the most welcome of these new encounters has been the support of the International Thriller Writers (ITW), which really proved the “international” aspect of its name by welcoming this Tokyo-based American writer to thei
r annual ThrillerFest in New York City with warmth and graciousness. Among the many people in this organization I’ve been fortunate enough to meet are Kimberley Howe, Liz Berry, Anthony J. Franze, Jenny Milchman, and Melissa MacGregor, as well as a large number of established and talented up-and-coming authors too numerous to name—you all know who you are. And additional kudos to Anthony for his sage advice and friendship.
I owe a deep debt of gratitude to Shigeyoshi Suzuki, a Japanese Renaissance man and longtime friend, who knows traditional culture inside out and makes an ideal sounding board for my various plot lines and themes. For Tokyo Kill, I bounced ideas about Sengai and the Japanese sword off him. He also dug out some obscure historical details I requested with great good humor.
For a memorable afternoon photo shoot in the Shibuya area of Tokyo, I once again want to express my thanks to Ben Simmons for the portfolio of author photographs he took. The portraits he snapped on that sunny afternoon have seen publication far and wide, mostly with the photo credit intact. Please accept my apologies for the times when it did not appear. A partial selection of Ben’s work, as well as a link to his homepage, can be found on my website in the “Contact/media” section.
The legacy of the Japanese sword is long and complex, and a quagmire for the uninitiated. I knew something about the subject and still found myself sinking up to my knees at times. Paul Martin, sword expert online and off, generously provided a safe path through this historical quicksand. His is an amazing story, and his work in the sword world continues to grow. Author and sword expert Nobuo Nakahara was also instrumental, and graciously offered his expertise.
Japanese saké is an endlessly fascinating topic, with an equally endless variety of offerings. To help me select a tipple that fit the character, dishes, and mood of an extended sequence in this book, I called on the services of longtime friend, author, and saké brewing master Philip Harper, who graciously worked with me to find an appropriate drink. In the process he may have inadvertently become the first literary saké sommelier in history.
For backing Jim Brodie on his Caribbean journey, my gratitude goes out to Joyce Abrams, Marilyn Knight, and Jean Sealey. They double-checked Brodie’s steps on those sandy shores.
For timely feedback on the Romanization and spelling of Chinese names and terms, I’d like to thank Jun Ma, Ge Gao (Simon Gao), and Jiali Yao. Their help was invaluable, their answers swift. Many thanks to each of you, wherever you may be at the time of publication.
For their support of Japantown and its debut author, many thanks to the following bookstores, their owners, and staff: to all the people at The Mysterious Bookshop, in NYC, and The Poisoned Pen, in Scottsdale, Arizona, for their graciousness and for selecting Japantown for their book clubs; to Steve Kott and Taeko Kobayashi of Good Day Books in Tokyo for their enthusiasm from the very beginning; to Barry Martin and Mary Riley of Book’em Mysteries in South Pasadena, California, for two memorable afternoons of book talk; to the people at Mysterious Galaxy, in San Diego and Redondo Beach, California—a great crew and great stores; to Diane’s Books of Greenwich, in Connecticut, for taking the Jim Brodie series under its wing; to Mystery Mike Bursaw and George Easter for their interest in the series and their warm welcome at Bouchercon; and to the staff at The Avid Reader in Davis, California, for their enthusiasm.
For much-appreciated help along the way, I wish to extend my thanks to all of the following people (in no particular order): to the inimitable Joan Hansen, as well as Cindy Woods, Katee Woods, and Jan Wilcox, for their warm welcome to the Men of Mystery event; to Ethel Margolin, “your greatest fan,” for rallying round the troops; to Victoria Magaw, for encouragement, support, and introductions to people in the Los Angeles Public Library system; to Jane Cohen, James Sherod, Sherry Kanzer, Leslie Chudnoff, Barbara Lockwood, Karilyn Steward, and Kerrie Mierop—all either with the LAPL or supporters of library events; to Beth Ruyak and Jennifer Picard for a great interview on Capital Public Radio (CPR) in Sacramento; to DeKristie Adams for helping to set up the radio interview; to Peter Goodman, publisher and editor supreme of Stone Bridge Press, for advice, support, and a place to stay; to John S. Knowlend for suggesting the name Tokyo no Tekken; to Mark Schreiber for his encouragement and for tracking down the answers to a couple of questions I had regarding the Tokyo police; to Kimberly Tierney, aka @kimiecat, for enthusiasm from the outset and for hosting a Cat’s Meow author’s night at Biscotti Tapas in Yoyogi-Uehara, Tokyo; to Shukla and Arnab Sakar for a memorable book event on the other side of the Pacific in Westhills, California; to Alan Brender, longtime friend in Tokyo and now dean of Lakeland College, for extending a hand and a good meal during a very dark hour; to Roger Grabowski for hosting an event at the Tokyo campus of Lakeland College; to two very special, long-lived book clubs—the SGPVJF Book Group (of Pasadena and the greater Los Angeles area) and the Bay Bridge Book Group (of San Francisco and the East Bay communities), for their wonderful hospitality, interest, and great book talk; to Rochelle Kopp for generously helping to lay tracks on which S&S could build; to Karen Catalona for a special guided tour and for introducing me to her friends working for the SFPD and the court system; to Maddee James and her crew for my well-designed website, which draws a continuous stream of compliments; to Michael Wyly and Lue Cobene of Solano Community College for arranging a pair of bracing events at the school; to Steve Turner, a British friend in Tokyo, for offering a second pair of eyes for all sorts of supplementary material when a fresh set was desperately needed; to Erin Mitchell for graciously lending a helping hand at the right time—on more than one occasion; to Räiner Perlitz, all around good guy, architect, coffee pro, and Japan enthusiast for pointing me in the direction of the Chatei Hatou in Shibuya; to founding editor of the Kyoto Journal John Einarsen for his enthusiasm and support; to Gavin Frew for his unfailingly sharp eye; to Richard Auffrey, on Twitter as @RichardPF, for advice on the fly; to Adrienne K. Di Giacomo for help from the desert sands; and to Mika Saito, a talented Japanese designer and now also a specialty farmer of Japanese tangerines (mikan) in Ehime Prefecture, Japan, for creating the wonderful bookplate on my website.
I want to thank all my supporters on Twitter who have sent me encouraging and/or entertaining messages, retweeted comments, and favored posts, and in general been such a great bunch individually and sometimes in groups. Barring glitches on the site, which do occur, I believe I see each and every one of your messages and respond to as many as I can. Occasionally one slips through the cracks, for which I apologize. All much appreciated. In like manner, I wish to thank my Facebook followers on both the Author and personal page for their support and comments and for coming along for the ride.
A special thanks is due to longtime friends Naoko and Hideo Horibe for their friendship over the years, and for many memorable evenings in Tokyo and abroad in Cambodia, France, Belgium, Germany, and Switzerland. Bits and pieces of our travels have found their way into the first two books and will no doubt surface in future efforts.
Thanks to Mio Urata and Ayako Akaogi for applying their talents to translating the Japanese section of my website. And a special nod of gratitude to all my Japanese publishing colleagues who showed up for the memorable surprise launch party/bonenkai (year-end party) in Tokyo’s Marunouchi district.
I owe a large debt to my brother, artist Marc Lancet, and his wife, Annette De Bow, a speech pathologist with a golden touch, for hosting me not once but twice during the book tour in Northern California for Japantown and while I put the finishing touches on the present volume. Their guest room became a home away from home.
And last, as before, family rallied around. So, many thanks to Bob and Lenny Lancet, Scott and Rosaleen Lancet, Marilyn Firestone, Melbourne and Teresa Weddle, Lilllie and Jose Reines, Margie and Mike Wilson, Debbie and Tom Hertzberg, Lincoln and Choi Lancet, Linda and Bruce Miller, Stuart and Wendy Firestone, as well as the next generation: Daryanna, Daniel, Evan (with her endless supply of stickers to decorate my computer), Bob and Christine Wilson, Hayley and Eloise Mi
ller, and Lloyd and Lindsay Miller. On the Japan side are my wife Haruko, daughter Renee, son Michael, and the extended family: Hozumi and Masako Horiuchi, Masaharu and Hiroko Nagase, Hirotake Nagase, and Chikako and Shinya Ishioka, with their latest addition Yamato.
To each and everyone above, and those not mentioned who have hosted events, offered words of encouragement, and lent support, my deepest gratitude and thanks.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
© PHOTOGRAPH BY BEN SIMMONS
Barry Lancet’s first thriller in the Jim Brodie series, Japantown, was selected as a Best Debut of Year by Suspense Magazine and by renowned mystery critic Oline H. Cogdill in her annual roundup. It has also been optioned by J. J. Abrams’s Bad Robot Productions, in association with Warner Bros.
In his twenties, Lancet moved from California to Tokyo, where he has lived for more than two decades. He landed a position at one of the country’s top publishing houses, and spent twenty-five years developing books on dozens of Japanese subjects from art to Zen—all in English and all distributed in the United States, Europe, and the rest of the world.
His unique position in the Japanese capital gave him access to many inner circles in cultural, business, and traditional fields most outsiders are never granted. However, it was an incident of an entirely different nature that started him on his present course. Early on in his tenure in Japan, Lancet was directed by the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department to come down to the stationhouse for a “voluntary interview.” The MPD proceeded to interrogate him for three hours.
The police grilling evolved into one of the most intensive psychological battles of cat-and-mouse Lancet had faced up to that point in his stay in Asia, and caused him to view many of his experiences, past and future, in a whole new light. The reason for the confrontation turned out to be a minor, noncriminal infraction. But even before they informed him of this, Lancet’s initial anger had given way to a fascination with the encounter itself, and soon after sparked the idea for a thriller based on his growing number of unusual experiences in Japan. Tokyo Kill is the second book in the series. The third is on the way.