Tokyo Noir: The Complete First Season

by J. Scott Matthews

“Haven’t been around long enough to see it played. I’ve heard about it, though.”

  Kumagai sighed. “Yeah, well, looks like you’re playing tonight.”

  “What’s wrong?” Yunokawa said. “You don’t like the boss’s game?”

  “It’s a little … vicious, for my tastes.”

  “Oh, but that’s what makes it fun!”

  The conversation was cut short by the sound of an engine echoing through the parking lot. Satoshi looked up to see Osammy’s enormous sedan gliding towards them. It stopped short of the men, then slowly turned around and backed up right to the edge of the circle. Park, Osammy’s driver and main bodyguard, got out and opened the back door. Osamu “Osammy the Whale” Nakamura heaved his massive bulk out of the backseat and into the light.

  Osammy, as he liked to be called, was an enormous man standing over six feet tall and weighing close to four hundred pounds. He was born to an American serviceman stationed in Yokosuka and a Japanese mother. The man had a penchant for expensive suits tailored to fit his enormous bulk. The joke was that if his tailor was charging Osammy by the square foot, he’d be a rich man by now. Not that anyone dared to make fat jokes to Osammy’s face, given his status and reputation for ruthlessness. “The Whale” wasn’t just a crack about his weight, but also a reference to his outsized stature and influence within the syndicate.

  “Gentlemen, welcome!” Osammy said, his rich baritone booming against the bare concrete all around them. “To the season opener of Osammy Ball!”

  Some of the men whooped and cheered. Some of the men winced but kept quiet.

  Osammy popped the trunk of his car open, and Park dragged the bound and gagged man from it into the center of the circle. The man already had a gash on his forehead. Blood from the wound trickled down past eyes puffy from crying, now open wide in terror. It collected at the white gag tied around his mouth, where it formed a crimson stain. He got up and tried to run but was pushed back into the circle.

  “That guy looks familiar,” Kumagai said. “But I can’t seem to place him.”

  “He was the prosecutor at my trial a few months back. I figure it’s been long enough that they won’t think of me right away when he turns up missing. But it’ll make the next one think twice about coming after the king.”

  The man on the ground began sobbing around his gag.

  “We’ve got some newcomers, so let’s go over the rules again,” Osammy said as Park handed him a wooden baseball bat. “We go around in a circle, and everyone gets one swing at a time. Whoever lands the killing blow wins. Now, normally I’d let the newcomers go first, but I want first crack at this fucker.”

  This was met by cheers from some of the men.

  “Now, the record is two and a half rounds, if I recall,” Osammy said with a grin. “But there’s no need to go for speed here. Just take your time and have fun!”

  With that, Osammy shrugged out of his overcoat and suit jacket, which Park dutifully collected. He took a few practice cuts with the bat while Masa and Uemura coaxed the doomed man to his knees.

  “Play ball!” Osammy shouted as he swung the bat as hard as he could.

  It struck the man’s head with a horrific sound. The force of the blow was enough to send him sprawling on the ground in a fresh paroxysm of crying and gagging.

  While most of the others cheered, Satoshi thought he was going to vomit. He had seen Osammy’s particular brand of cruelty plenty of times before, but nothing this bad. He wanted no part of it.

  “Who’s new here?” Osammy said. “Ah, that’s right. Masa, you’re up.”

  Masa took the bat from him as Uemura forced the man back to his knees. Masa took a wild swing that was full of power, but lacking in accuracy. It struck the man in the side of the neck with a sickening thud, sending him sprawling again.

  “Good try, good try,” Osammy said. “Slow it down a little next time. This game is more about accuracy than power.”

  “Your turn, Satoshi,” Osammy said.

  Masa handed him the bat, which Satoshi took absentmindedly, looking at Masa

  , then at the man on the ground. The prosecutor was whimpering and pleading with his eyes.

  “This man doesn’t deserve this. He was just doing a job.”

  “Play ball, Satoshi,” Osammy said.

  Satoshi looked at the man, then back up at Osammy. “I won't do it.”

  With that, Satoshi dropped the bat. It clattered loudly against the concrete parking lot and rolled away, coming to rest by Masa.

  Osammy glowered at Satoshi. “Pick it up.”

  Satoshi made no move to comply.

  “Pick it up—or we’re going to play two rounds of Osammy Ball tonight.”

  Satoshi remained defiant.

  “Fuck’s sake, Satoshi,” Masa said. He picked the bat up and held it out to Satoshi. “Just play the game.”

  “Listen to your friend,” Osammy said. “Masa’s a good soldier. I’ll bet if I told him to bash your skull in, he wouldn’t even hesitate.”

  Satoshi looked at Masa, but Masa’s expression gave nothing away on that score.

  “Of course, if you play the game here, we won’t have to find out the answer to that.”

  Satoshi took the bat, then he looked at Osammy.

  “Look, if you want him dead, I’ll shoot him now. It’s cleaner that way. No need to make him suffer.”

  “No, Satoshi, you’ll play the game your coach tells you to play, for as long as it takes. Understood?”

  Satoshi hesitated again without replying.

  “There’s fun and games,” Osammy said. “And then there are orders. We’re past the games part, now I’m giving you an order.”

  “I can’t just shoot him and end it, I have to use the bat?”

  Osammy nodded. Satoshi could feel the eyes of the other men on him. He had no doubt that half of them wouldn’t hesitate to play Osammy Ball on him. The other half wouldn’t enjoy it, but that wouldn’t stop them if it meant staying out of the circle themselves. Satoshi reached his decision.

  “Sit up,” he said, dragging the prosecutor to his knees. “Come on, on your knees.”

  The man started bawling but complied. Satoshi’s gaze flicked around at the men. He saw a subtle smile creeping onto Osammy’s face, and a look of relief on Masa’s.

  “Sorry, friend, but you heard the boss,” Satoshi said, positioning the man just so. “Orders being orders, and all. Looks like it’s just your time.”

  The man blubbered and cried, but didn't resist.

  “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt. I’ll make sure of that.”

  Some of the other men snickered their disbelief at that. Those who had been with Osammy awhile had seen games go on for up to an hour.

  “Any last words?” Satoshi said, pulling the man’s cloth gag out. “Any messages?”

  “Tell my wife … tell my wife …” The man broke down sobbing.

  “I’ll tell your wife you loved her,” Satoshi said softly.

  The man nodded, tears still streaming down his face.

  “Close your eyes.”

  The man did so. Satoshi stepped back and took a few practice cuts with the bat, checking the distance between them and the angle. When he was satisfied, he took up a batter’s stance.

  Only he didn’t swing the bat. In one fluid motion, Satoshi slapped the bat into his other hand and brought it down over his knee, splintering the wood at its weak point. Tossing half of the bat to the ground, he placed his free hand on the back of the man’s head. Then in one lightning-quick motion, he drove the jagged edge of the bat through the man’s right eye. The prosecutor twitched once, then fell over dead.

  Satoshi’s gaze found Osammy’s, and the two locked eyes.

  “Looks like I win,” Satoshi said flatly.

  Osammy’s jaw quivered in rage, but after some effort he got it under control. He smiled, then began chuckling darkly. “I suppose you won this game. But don’t forget that the season goes on for as long as I say it does.”
r />   Chapter One

  Satoshi sat in the interrogation room, staring placidly at his interrogators. They glared back at him intimidatingly. It wasn’t their phony tough-guy bravado that had him scared, though. It was the camera up in the corner. More specifically, the fact that the red light wasn’t lit told him this interrogation wasn’t being recorded. He knew what that meant.

  “Now, Mr. Ishiyama, you’re going to—”

  “Satoshi.”

  “What?”

  “Just Satoshi. No need to stand on formality.”

  The cop who called himself Ina glowered at him, then glanced at the other one, Kato.

  “You believe the fuckin’ balls on this guy?”

  “Tough guys think they’re above the law. No respect for hardworking cops.”

  “None at all,” Ina agreed. “But I have a feeling he’s going to have some more respect for us before he leaves this room.”

  “Why? Because you’re going to beat me?” Satoshi said.

  “I guess we’ll see,” Ina said, getting up close in Satoshi’s face. He smelled like stale sweat and tobacco.

  “I guess,” Satoshi said.

  He pulled up on the handcuffs chaining him to the table. Yup. Still there.

  “Well, let’s start with an easy one. Where were you the night Yukari Sato was murdered, last Saturday?”

  That was the night I came across an old accomplice’s dead body and chased his killer along the train tracks.

  “I was at home all night. My girlfriend came home at ten from her shift at the hospital. She can corroborate.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, we’ll be checking with her. What about May fourteenth? Where were you that night?”

  Oh, let’s see. That night some friends and I tried to pull a heist on a moving armored vehicle.

  “I was working. Down at Takara Industries, taking inventory. I’ve got a number you can call.” The number routed directly to an answering machine for a dummy corporation. When a call was received, Kameko or someone else would call back. They would then verify that, yes, Satoshi was one of their employees and that he had been working that night. Why do you ask?

  Kato took the number from Satoshi and began dialing. Ina continued with his questions.

  “Let’s try May tenth, then. The night that Alyona Petrov was murdered.”

  Yes, that night, I remember it well. As I recall, I was on a boat smuggling contraband into Japan. At least, until the boat exploded.

  “Also working.”

  “Of course.”

  “Answering machine,” Kato said, hanging up the phone.

  “So you’ve got people who will vouch for your whereabouts. Still doesn’t explain the knife we found in your apartment. We’re testing it for DNA as we speak. Should have a match any minute now.”

  Satoshi had to try hard not to roll his eyes. This guy was one of the worst liars he had ever seen.

  “You said the knife was ‘right where he said it’d be.’ Who?”

  “We’re asking the fucking questions here, you’re answering them,” Kato said.

  “So you got a tipoff, saying where a knife would be in my apartment, from an anonymous source. How did this guy know I had a knife there? Where was it, by the way? In my bedroom somewhere? You really think I’d keep a bloody knife in my bedroom, where this guy would know where it was? Or you think maybe it was planted there?”

  Kato didn’t answer that. Satoshi looked at Ina, who looked away. After a moment, Kato smiled. It wasn’t a warm smile. Then he turned to Ina.

  “All these guys who come through here think they’re so fucking clever. They think they can reason their way out. Show us the error of our ways.” He turned to Satoshi, the smile falling from his face. “But you’re in our world now. Here, we create the logic.”

  “We’re not interested in clever games,” Ina said. “We’re interested in hearing your confession.”

  “The sooner we get that, the less you’ll suffer,” Kato said. “Of course, the longer you hold out …”

  As he trailed off, he turned to his partner and shrugged. Then the shrug turned into a fist that shot out straight towards Satoshi’s head. But Satoshi saw his shoulder drop and his weight shift to throw the punch in advance. He was ready for it. He dodged far to the right, the fist missing him by a hair. As Kato rotated through the punch over him, Satoshi brought his knee up into his ribs as hard as he could. Kato went down hard.

  Ina was already coming around the table towards him. Satoshi used the point where his hands were chained to the table as a fulcrum and launched himself at Ina in a looping kick. It connected with his face, sending him sprawling. Without much range of motion, Satoshi landed on the table. Kato was coming back, and Satoshi caught him with a hard kick to his face.

  This wasn’t how Satoshi wanted this to go. Even now, he knew that every blow he landed was just racking up a debt. One that would be paid in pain. In facial contusions, broken blood vessels, and cracked ribs. Just as soon as they could pin him down long enough to collect on it. And considering the enclosed space and his immobilized arms, that wouldn’t be long. Yet even knowing that, he tried to put it off as long as he could in the hopes that someone or something might intervene.

  It didn’t take them long to gain the upper hand. One mistimed kick at Ina left him exposed to Kato, who was able to pull his other leg out from under him. When Satoshi came down, his head hit the side of the table. His arms were still handcuffed to a point up on the tabletop, which stretched his arms and shoulders painfully.

  He tried to regain his footing, but they were already over top of him. Blows rained down on him from all sides. He tried shielding himself with his arms as best he could, but that provided little relief. There was nothing he could do to stop it.

  His debt had come due.

  Now it would be paid in full.

  Chapter Two

  “Shit!”

  Kameko said as she and Jun both leapt to their feet and sprinted for the stairwell. They had just received a transmission from the Toymaker that the killers were already inside the building. How the fuck had that happened with them outside the entire time?

  “I’m coming!” Jeremy shouted over the intercom.

  By the time Kameko and Jun made it into the building, they could hear Jeremy already ahead of them on the stairs. They sprinted up to the third floor and joined Jeremy, who was panting as he peered into the office room from the hallway. It was mostly dark, and visibility was limited except for the light from the windows at either side of the room. From what she saw, there appeared to be three aisles in the center of the room, and another aisle to either side of the room where the partitions stopped. In front of them was an open space of about fifteen feet, with a meeting table against the wall and a kitchenette in the corner. She listened carefully. She could hear some scuffling sounds, but nothing definitive.

  “What’s the situation?” Kameko said. She put her thumb in her mouth.

  Without turning to face her, Jeremy said. “I can’t see any of them. But guessing they haven’t found him yet because it’s quiet in here.” He turned to look at her. “Aren’t you a little old for that?”

  Kameko ignored him and turned to Jun. “What do you think?”

  “Wait here. Cover the exit. I’ll flush them out.”

  Before Kameko could protest, Jun slipped into the office.

  “I hate when he does that.”

  Kameko hunkered down next to Jeremy, both of their guns drawn. Waiting.

  Jun ran to the far wall. There was no one in the far aisle, and no one in the kitchenette. He started his sweep. At each cross aisle, he would peer down first before darting across. He was hoping to sneak up close enough to the killers to take them out with a knife, because as soon as he fired his gun he would have two other men instantly converging on him in the dark. He didn’t see anything in the first two aisles, but he heard something at the third one. He moved down it, carefully checking each side as he went. He heard a noise from one of the cub
icles and quickly brought his gun to bear on the target.

  He stopped himself just as he was about to squeeze the trigger, when he realized he was looking at the Toymaker’s terrified face. The Toymaker looked like he was about to say something, but Jun silenced him with a finger to his lips.

  Just then, he caught a glimpse of motion from the corner of his eye. He saw someone moving from a corner that was two aisles away. And they saw him too, because the person dove forward for cover, behind the same cluster of partitions they were now in. Jun tried to gauge the man’s current position, then fired three shots through the partition board. But he wasn’t the only one with that idea, judging from the bullets coming his way. “Stay down!” he hissed at the Toymaker. He shot out from the cubicle into one two down on the other side, giving him a view of the one he had just exited.

  He waited in silence, his heart pounding in his ears, never taking his eye off the spot. Not even when he heard shots fired from elsewhere in the office.

  “Fuck this, I’m going in,” Jeremy announced when they heard the shots.

  Kameko grabbed his arm and yanked him back.

  “No, you’re not. Too many shooters in there, too much confusion. Wait for Jun to flush them out.”

  Just then, she saw someone run out of the partitions at a crouch, heading straight for them. It wasn’t Jun and it wasn’t the professor, so she fired. Three shots, all center mass, all hit home. The assailant was knocked backwards, gasping audibly, but somehow found his way to his feet. Damn, maybe there was something to Jun’s strategy of using a big gun. Her caliber looked like it had winded the guy through his vest, but that was it.

  The man began sprinting towards the windows on the far side of the room. Jeremy fired after him, but his shot went wide. The man never hesitated or even slowed on his way out the window, the glass shattering outward as his momentum carried him through. Then both the man and the glass were gone, presumably raining down on the pavement below.

  “Son of a …,” Jeremy said, taking off running. He crashed out the window after him, leaving Kameko to cover the exit alone.