The Drowning God

by James Kendley

  “That’s right. And stress might have made a diving mask look like that face you saw in the water, like the drawings you made for Nakamura.” Ogawa’s horrible drawings came to Takuda’s mind.

  Yumi shook her head. “No, no, no. I’ll tell you again. I looked at hundreds of diving masks in every catalog I could find. There was nothing like that available in Japan.” She sat up with exaggerated care, as if it took all her strength to remain calm. “You remember the Kappa costumes for the old festival dances? Just before we left, they broke off the left forefingers. That was when the farmers lost their forefingers, too.”

  “I remember that.”

  “Well, those farmers believe in the Kappa even if you don’t. Even if you don’t believe your wife’s eyes and the scars in your own flesh. They believe. They aren’t worrying about bicycles and masks and clawed gloves. They cut off their own fingers in an act of devotion. That’s how you’ll recognize the ones who observe the old ways. Those men will be dangerous even if they’re old. Even the oldest dog still has one last bite.” The muscle jumped on the side of her jaw. “And if you have a choice between killing them and coming home, don’t kill them. Just walk away. Our family has gotten smaller and smaller. Don’t destroy it just for revenge.”

  CHAPTER 21

  The prefectural police department faced north, toward the sea. It had been built in the exhilarating years between the Tokyo Olympics and the Osaka Expo, when all of Japan had been looking toward the bright future overseas, toward Japan taking her rightful place in the family of nations. Of course such an imposing new building would face the sea.

  The bright future never materialized in that prefecture. The prefecture lay in the san-­in, the mountain shadow, so while the rest of Japan faced the bright future, the dark valleys held secrets that would always drag the prefecture backward.

  From the walkway to the entrance, Takuda could see the window-­sitters, five useless detectives who sat far from the action in the heart of the office. They showed up every day, even on this sunny Saturday morning. They would continue the formality of showing up until they could collect their pensions. This morning, one of the window-­sitters was trimming his toenails with his foot on the sill.

  Takuda sprang up the stairs. That window-­sitter would go, and another would take his place. Takuda pressed the elevator button. The “3” was almost worn away. Why think about the window-­sitters, of all ­people? Why today? There were bigger things at stake.

  Takuda realized why window-­sitters came to mind when the elevator doors opened and he walked down the familiar beige-­and-­gray hallway. In his own way, he had become worse than a window-­sitter. At least window-­sitters never make any trouble.

  Takuda exchanged the usual nods and grunts with the other detectives, but the office mood was anything but usual. Even with his deadened senses, Takuda could feel the chill.

  Superintendent Yamada was not at his desk. The conference room door was closed.

  Takuda didn’t even have to look at the conference room schedule. He went in. As expected, his boss, Superintendent Yamada, sat at the head of the table. Chief Nakamura sat in the seat of honor, facing the door. At Nakamura’s left sat Endo, the Zenkoku General counselor Takuda had met the night before.

  Only Endo rose to return Takuda’s bow. Takuda backed out for a moment to get his own chair.

  Nakamura started talking as soon as Takuda sat. “Certain questions have arisen about the official . . .”

  “This is not an official meeting.” The superintendent sat forward without a glance at Nakamura. “Chief Nakamura requested a meeting today, and he took it upon himself to bring an employee of Zenkoku General. Please, honored guests, let me first introduce one of our most decorated and experienced detectives.”

  As they introduced themselves, Takuda studied Endo. The suit was worth a month of Takuda’s salary, at least, but the man who wore it was brown and weathered. Even though his hands were hardened with practice, there were no broken knuckles, no scarring on the striking surfaces, and no swordsman’s calluses between the thumbs and forefingers. The stranger sized up Takuda as well. His eyes revealed nothing, but a slight smile played at the edges of his lips as they exchanged business cards for the second time.

  Nakamura cleared his throat and began again. “A tragedy of this level seems to speak of foul play, but experts who have viewed the site say it’s entirely possible that this underwater cave trapped bodies from upstream, perhaps from the vicinity of Eagle Peak Temple, for hundreds of years. There’s no telling where all these bones came from. Some of them are so old that they couldn’t have been put there by anyone alive today.”

  “Experts,” Yamada said.

  “Yes. These experts say the first skulls they examined are more than five hundred years old. There’s no telling how old this site is. The bones would have stayed in that cave forever had the detective and his friends not destroyed the shrine above it.”

  On the table before Nakamura lay a crime-­scene map hastily sketched on graph paper. Asterisks appeared at the sides of the cavern and at the end farthest from the entrance.

  Takuda pointed to Nakamura’s map. “Officer Mori plotted a detailed crime-­scene map. It was very different from this one.”

  Nakamura nodded. “We do what we can out in the country.”

  “The officer also put crime-­scene flags on distinct remains, starting with the bones that appeared newest. He started at the top of the heap, in the center of the cave, then moved downward and outward.”

  “He is very systematic,” Nakamura said. “However, such a system prevented us from getting to the lower levels of the crime scene.”

  “Testing remains from the farthest reaches of the cavern ensures that you’ll be testing the oldest remains first,” Takuda said.

  “What’s your point, Detective?”

  “If you dig the older remains out from under the newer ones, the media attention will disappear. No one will even be thinking about the site when you get to the freshest remains.”

  “That’s nonsense.”

  Endo cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, may I have a few words?”

  All eyes turned to Endo.

  “This is a matter of mutual concern. The Zenkoku family of companies has financial interests in the Naga River valley. However, we have deeper relationships to the land and to the ­people. As Japanese, all of us here today understand these deeper relationships.” He began to interweave his fingers: “Our ­people, our land, our faith, and our culture.” He ended with his hands clenched above the table. “These are all interconnected to make us strong, especially when we all work together for the common good.”

  Yamada scratched his ear. He looked as if he might fall asleep.

  Endo smiled and spread his hands on the conference table. “Chief Nakamura was kind enough to bring me here today precisely because we all wish to serve the common good. You wish to keep the peace. You wish to protect the ­people of this prefecture. We want to help in any way you choose. Because of our various holdings here in your prefecture, including the Zenkoku Fiber plant in the Naga River valley, we are part of the prefecture. Part of your larger family if you will. We also need your help and protection.”

  Takuda sat forward. “Do you want us to come in and solve the water safety question? We could do that.”

  “That’s enough, Detective.” The superintendent regarded Takuda from under heavy eyelids.

  “We could start with the canals and work our way down to the spillways and the runoff pond.”

  Nakamura leapt to his feet. “That’s preposterous! That’s completely off-­limits! You could find yourself in huge trouble there, Detective!”

  Endo tugged gently on the chief’s sleeve. Nakamura collapsed into his chair without a word.

  The superintendent was still looking at Takuda. He looked bored, but Takuda knew better. Finally, the superinte
ndent sighed in resignation and sat forward. “Who am I talking to? Zenkoku General or Zenkoku Fiber?”

  Endo bowed. “In this matter of our mutual concern, I am honored to represent the corporation as a whole.”

  Yamada bowed without a trace of sarcasm. “So, does the corporation as a whole have any information for us?”

  “Perhaps we can lend our support. It’s not generally known, but we have holdings reaching far back into our country’s medieval past, long before we were unified under the Zenkoku banner. We were still doing brisk business with the Vietnamese in Hoi An when the Dutch set up shop at Nagasaki, so you might call us the oldest continuously operating multinational corporation. Over time, we have developed specific methods of balancing progress against the preservation of important cultural assets.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Endo didn’t smile. He could read the superintendent, too. “Japanese history is under our feet every day, gentlemen. Every time the Zenkoku family puts up a building or digs a tunnel, we find archaeological sites that must be preserved. We have partners at most major universities, both here and abroad. These men and women drop what they’re doing when we find something interesting. They can quickly and easily evaluate most situations. That way, we can effectively help local governments make difficult decisions.”

  “But it’s a crime scene,” Takuda said.

  “Actually, the head of the archaeological department at your own university here in the city has written a brief position paper on that very topic.”

  He whisked it from his briefcase.

  “He believes the remains are all more than seven hundred years old, not five hundred. That’s older than much of the Zenkoku family itself, gentlemen, and we are quite old.”

  Yamada was frighteningly still. “So you shipped in an academic to trespass on a crime scene.”

  “The land belongs to Zenkoku Development. We have clear title since 1937, I believe. My presence could hardly be called trespassing, as I was invited to consult on this matter even before I ran into my old friend the regional director general. From what I was told, there was some doubt as to whether this was a crime scene at all.”

  The superintendent turned to Nakamura. “So you pulled in your corporate friends to reclassify a crime scene as an archaeological site.”

  Nakamura squirmed under his gaze. “Well, we don’t have the resources to deal with this kind of thing, even to guard the site. We weren’t sure what to do.”

  “You could have left it to the prefecture.” Yamada’s expression was blank.

  “Left it to the prefecture? Your maniac detective here was trying to tie it all together. But it’s preposterous! The skeletons in the cavern have nothing to do with the pervert Ogawa. The pervert Ogawa has nothing to do with the tragic drowning of the Zenkoku English teacher. Only the drowning is related to the water safety question, which has shown steady improvement since Zenkoku first came to our valley, I might add.”

  The superintendent glanced at Takuda.

  The chief puffed out his chest. He thought he was winning. “Your man Takuda has been driven insane by shame. He wants to tie all our problems together, but it’s preposterous, isn’t it? That would mean that the pervert Ogawa is a seven-­hundred-­year-­old killer who can slip out of his jail cell at will. At seven hundred, he would be too feeble for that, ha!” Nakamura straightened his tie and sat erect in his chair. “In my professional opinion, Detective Takuda is no longer fit for duty. He wants to make sense of the tragic events in his family’s history. Unfortunately, misplaced blame cannot bring back his brother, his son, or his parents. He should put aside blame and face his own shame. He has failed his family, first as an older brother, then as a father, and finally as a son. Perhaps shame has driven him to failure as an officer of the law as well.”

  Nakamura held his chin up, but his eyes shifted quickly from Yamada to Takuda to Endo.

  The silence stretched on. Takuda had nothing to say. As far as his failures were concerned, Nakamura was right. He had failed his family in every possible way, and he fully intended to fail as an officer of the law. However, there was still work to do.

  He spoke slowly into the silence. “Chief Nakamura, when Lee Hunt disappeared, and also when his body was found, you referred to him as a tourist. When I asked why he was in the Naga River valley, you said he was on holiday with his wife. Just now, you referred to him as a Zenkoku English teacher. Was he in the employ of Zenkoku? If so, why did you keep this information from us?”

  CHAPTER 22

  The blood drained from Nakamura’s face. He sputtered to the superintendent: “The detective was out of control. I didn’t tell him the foreigner was working for Zenkoku because I didn’t remember—­I didn’t have enough personnel to deal with the details.” He cut his eyes at Endo. Takuda couldn’t tell if he was begging Endo for help or for forgiveness.

  Endo’s black eyes glittered. He relished Nakamura’s squirming with some base pleasure beyond simple amusement.

  The superintendent cleared his throat. “Can the Zenkoku General representative help us with this? What was the foreigner doing there?”

  Endo tore his eyes away from the tortured police chief. “Ah. Yes, yes, of course. I may be able to assist here in several ways. Let me say at the outset that we at Zenkoku have no opinion on Detective Takuda’s fitness for duty. If we did, we would communicate our concerns through the appropriate channels.” He smiled at Takuda with large, yellow teeth. “My superiors would see to it personally.”

  Takuda bowed in acknowledgment. He did not look forward to the day when Endo’s masters took an interest in his career.

  Endo stood and buttoned his beautiful suit coat. “On behalf of the Zenkoku family of companies, I would like to clarify two misunderstandings. First, the foreigner was not a Zenkoku employee. He was an employee of ActiveUs, a teaching and testing firm that we retain for corporate training. He had just completed teaching the spring intensive English course for new employees. Like so many of us, he found Naga River valley charming, and he brought his pretty young wife along to enjoy it. Unfortunately, his Japanese skills were poor. He obviously misunderstood warnings about the cold, swift flow from the spring thaw.”

  Takuda sat forward. “And what about his liver? What about his intestines?”

  Endo bowed. “I regret my inability to make definitive statements about the individual internal organs of foreign workers.” He addressed the entire table. “At any rate, it should come as no surprise that this unfortunate accident victim had indirect ties to our corporate family. The Zenkoku companies and their various holdings employ only a tiny fraction of the population, not even four percent, but we eventually touch the lives of everyone in Japan.”

  “I’m beginning to believe that,” Takuda said.

  “The other point that requires clarification is the assumption that our academic friends could reclassify a crime scene as an archaeological site. That would take a court injunction.” He drew a large, official envelope from his briefcase. “It’s unusual for someone like me, a simple salaried worker, to act as an officer of the court. However, the judge felt that urgent action was needed to preserve the archaeological integrity of the site. Copies have already been sent to your superiors, but they will want the original, of course.” He offered the envelope with a bow to the superintendent. “If you would, please accept this injunction to cease all activities in the cavern or the shrine above. The consequences of trespass on the site are listed here, with references to national and prefectural statutes on the protection of antiquities.”

  “So, you’re a corporate lawyer as well,” the superintendent said

  “I have the great fortune to serve the Zenkoku family in multiple capacities.”

  There was nothing more to be said. Endo bowed to Detective Takuda and Superintendent Yamada, and then he strolled out with Chief Nakamura following. Nakamura was grinning,
and he turned to say something to Takuda, but a touch on the shoulder from Endo made him fall in line.

  As the door swung shut, the superintendent turned to Takuda. “You disappear just when I need you on the ground in that valley. You stumble into a cave full of bones. Then I start getting the phone calls. Everyone except the prime minister has called me about this nasty business. Maybe he did. I haven’t checked my messages for fifteen minutes now.”

  “You told me to stay out of the way.”

  “You’re making a rotten mess of it. Your reports are perfect, but they don’t say anything. I can’t even tell ­people what you’re doing because I don’t know.”

  “I’m not sure I do, either.”

  “Okay, Detective, what do you know?”

  “The suspect Ogawa was attempting to kidnap the Kawaguchi girl. He has been incarcerated too long to be involved in the drowning of Lee Hunt.”

  A muscle jumped in the superintendent’s jaw. “The foreigner whose intestines interest you so deeply.”

  The clock ticked loudly.

  Yamada said, “What else do you have? Tell me you have more.”

  There was more, but he couldn’t tell the superintendent any of it. He wasn’t sure he understood it himself.

  “Takuda, here’s what they tell me. They tell me that you’re misrepresenting your position as a detective. They tell me that you’re interfering with regular investigations. They tell me that you had Mori illegally retrieve evidence from Ogawa’s apartment. Now, here’s what I know firsthand. You aren’t coming in, you aren’t staying in touch, and your paperwork is suddenly textbook perfect. You did a half-­baked interview with Ogawa’s ex-­wife, and your report for that one is missing altogether. Now she’s disappeared. We may never know what she could have told us.”

  Takuda didn’t allow himself to smile.

  “Takuda, you let a Buddhist priest pray over the body of a foreign national.”

  “He had the wife’s permission.”