‘Maybe I’m tired of being sensible.’
‘Maybe. And maybe I am sometimes also. But I am a police officer. And I must do my duty.’
Some faint nod of Fujisaki’s head was the signal for three men to leap on Max from the deep shadow of the wayside hedge. His reactions, slowed by the amount he had drunk, came far too late for him to evade them. His arms were yanked behind his back. He heard the click of handcuffs round his wrists as he cannoned against the side of the car. And then he heard Fujisaki’s voice, soft and regretful, close to his ear.
‘I am sorry, Maxted-san. You are under arrest.’
A SAKE/SHOCHU HANGOVER was not a pleasant thing to wake to. Max’s head also hurt because of a collision with the doorframe of the unmarked police car he had been bundled into. His throat was as dry and rough as sandpaper. The breakfast he had been roused to confront comprised brackish tea and over-boiled rice. And the cell he was in, deep in the basement of Tokyo Police headquarters, was as hot as an oven, with a mere wisp of marginally less hot air entering through a grille at ceiling height. All in all, Max felt a long way short of his best.
Sobriety and a new day – evident from sallow shafts of light admitted through the grille – cast his discoveries of the previous night in a fresh perspective. His determination to make Tomura suffer for what he had done had not weakened. But he knew – though he might be reluctant to admit as much to Fujisaki – that arresting him had been an act of kindness. It had saved him from himself as much as from Tomura.
Fujisaki’s kindness did not extend to the provision of comfortable accommodation, however. The cell was rank with the odour of former occupants, some of whom had scratched messages on the walls. They were all in Japanese, of course, and thus unintelligible to Max, though a sketch of a hanged man was successful in making its point.
Most of the morning had passed, according to Max’s watch, when the door of the cell was unlocked and opened for the first time since the removal of his breakfast cup and bowl. The guard signalled for him to come out and escorted him with a few prods of his truncheon by way of direction, along a corridor, up a short flight of steps and into another room.
It was about twice the size of his cell and was furnished with a table and two chairs. Windows set behind bars high in the wall stood open to a faint breeze. The guard gestured for Max to sit down, then closed the door and stationed himself by it, truncheon in hand.
A few minutes passed, then the door opened and Fujisaki came in, carrying a file, which he laid on the table before sitting down opposite Max.
‘Konnichi wa, Maxted-san,’ he said. ‘How was your night?’
‘Long. Am I still under arrest?’
‘Technically, yes. Although it is debatable whether you have been under arrest at all. There will be no official record of your detention. I hope you feel now that I acted in your best interests.’
‘Let’s say I do.’
‘Good. A smoke?’ Fujisaki proffered a pack of cigarettes. Max accepted one. Fujisaki lit it for him. Then he lit another for himself.
‘When can I leave?’
‘Do you still intend to harm Count Tomura?’
‘Yes. But not immediately. And not so clumsily.’
‘Then you can leave whenever you like. But I suggest we have a talk here first. There is no danger of being overheard.’ Fujisaki nodded to the guard. ‘He understands no English.’
‘All right. What’s in the file?’
‘Reports on events I must tell you about. Firstly, the dead bodies of two Western men were found in a sewage cart at Shibuya early this morning. Both had been shot. They were naked, so identification will be difficult. As far as we can establish, the sewage was collected from the Akasaka area of the city. Where you were, last night. I wonder, do you know who the men are?’
‘Dombreux and Monteith.’
‘You are very specific.’
‘They were killed on Lemmer’s orders. Probably at Tomura’s mansion.’
‘If that is true, it proves I was right to stop you entering.’
‘I suppose it does. From your point of view. A sewage cart, you say?’
‘Yes. It seems to me … contemptuous.’
‘Contemptuousness is something Lemmer and Tomura have in common.’
‘And you, of course. They have the problem you pose to them in common. I had a long conversation with Hodgson this morning. He told me everything he told you. About Count Tomura and the Farngolds … and you, Maxted-san.’
‘Then you know what I mean to make Tomura answer for.’
‘Yes. And as a Japanese man I cannot object to a son seeking to avenge his murdered mother. If she was murdered.’
‘I hold Count Tomura responsible for her death. I don’t intend to let him get away with it. It’s as simple as that.’
‘Yes. I understand.’ Fujisaki extinguished his cigarette and lit another. He offered Max one. Max declined with a shake of the head. ‘Hodgson also told me you have exposed Lemmer’s spy organization. That means his scheme to sell his organization to the Japanese government has failed. A disaster for him. And a defeat for Tomura. This is true, yes?’
‘I’m not sure how much of a defeat it is for Tomura. He may actually welcome getting Lemmer out of his hair.’
‘Which will only increase your determination to attack him.’
‘It’ll make no difference to it, Commissioner.’
‘No. Of course not. That was stupid of me. Tell me, do you think Lemmer knows yet what you have done to him?’
‘Probably not. But he soon will.’
Fujisaki paused for a slow draw on his cigarette, then said, ‘I ask because of the other event I must tell you of. Anna Staun – Anna Schmidt – was found dead in her room at the Imperial Hotel this morning. She had slit her wrists in the bath.’
‘Good God.’ Why? Why should she do such a thing? It made no sense to Max. She was doing all she could to secure her son’s release. For her to kill herself at such a time was incomprehensible. ‘Did she leave a note?’
‘No. That is, no note was found. But it is interesting that Frederik Boel – Lemmer – had already booked out of the hotel by then. We do not know where he is now. He told the hotel manager he planned to travel to Kyoto.’
‘Kyoto?’
‘That is what we have been told he said. And he did not need to say anything. So, is it a message?’
‘Maybe. But what it means … I don’t know.’
‘The collapse of Lemmer’s plans makes him no longer a useful ally for Count Tomura. I suspect Tomura will desire a period of … discretion … in which to recover political credit. This will finally make certain all charges against Morahan, Djabsu and Ward are dropped. Also the charges against Miss Hollander and Mr Twentyman. Their deportation would be the obvious solution to Tomura’s problem. What you have discovered is not something that can be used to destroy him, I regret. It is a personal matter between you and him.’
‘Yes. It’s certainly that.’
‘But if you try to settle it personally, Maxted-san, I fear I will have your death to investigate as well as all the others.’
‘I don’t know how I’ll move against him, Commissioner, although I promise you I won’t be as bull-headed as I was last night. But I can’t walk away. And I’m not going to pretend I’m willing to.’
‘No. You are frank, Maxted-san. You are clear. I understand. I even approve. But still …’ Fujisaki stubbed out his second cigarette and turned to the guard. ‘Itte kudasai.’ The guard nodded and left the room.
‘I thought he couldn’t speak English,’ said Max.
‘He cannot. But there is a name it may be best he does not hear. A man came here a few hours ago. French, I think. He said he wanted to speak to you.’
‘How did he know I was here?’
‘I asked. He did not explain. He did not explain much at all. I refused to allow him to see you. He seemed not to be surprised. He asked when you would be released. I did not deny that it would b
e today. He seemed not to be surprised by that either. He said he would call at your hotel later.’
‘He knows where I’m staying?’
‘Evidently he does.’
‘What name did he give?’
‘He insisted I should tell you his name, actually, which is interesting, I think. Laskaris. Viktor Laskaris.’
WELL DONE. MUCH REGRET SUBJECT DROWNED. RECOMMEND YOU LEAVE ASAP. BROWN
MAX STOOD IN the foyer of the Tokyo station hotel, staring at the telegram that had been waiting for him. He could only imagine Eugen Hanckel had drowned during an escape attempt while being transported across Lake Geneva. It was a terrible turn of events. Max knew how badly Appleby must have taken it. He had certainly never intended the boy to come to any harm.
But to harm the boy had come. Eugen was dead. Anna Schmidt had given away the names of Lemmer’s spies for nothing. The news of the drowning must have reached her. That was why she had killed herself. Of the two people she loved most in the world, she had lost one and betrayed the other.
And what of that other? What would Lemmer do now? He would surely seek revenge. Appleby was out of his reach, but Max and Malory and Sam and Morahan were all in Tokyo. Lemmer’s rage at such a moment would be a fearsome thing. Max felt sure he would come after them. Appleby clearly thought likewise. Hence his urging. Leave as soon as possible.
But Max had no intention of leaving. He was also set upon revenge. And the threat from Lemmer was not going to deflect him.
Malory and Sam were a different matter, however. He would do his best to persuade them to leave. He headed up to his room, meaning to telephone them from there.
But, bemusingly, the telephone was ringing as he entered the room. Cautiously, he picked up the receiver.
‘Yes?’
‘Mr Maxted. This is Laskaris.’
‘Where are you?’
‘Downstairs. But I suggest we meet on the station. I will wait for you on the main platform.’
The line went dead. Laskaris, it was clear, did not entertain the possibility that Max would refuse to meet him.
The station was deep in mid-afternoon torpor. Passengers awaiting trains drifted between patches of shade. The women flourished parasols. The men wore wide-brimmed straw hats. The clack-clack of their wooden sandals came at a heat-slowed pace, like the ticking of a clock that needed winding.
The man on the double-sided bench, facing the station building, was the only Westerner of the right age to be Viktor Laskaris, business partner of the late Alphonse Soutine. He was clad in a three-piece cream suit of immaculate cut, though it needed pressing. On his head he wore a smart panama. He was white-haired and generously moustachioed. His face was babyishly soft, as if he had seldom sat out in the sort of sunshine now bathing the platform. He was smoking a fat cigar, with every impression of relish.
On the other side of the bench, behind him, a boy wearing a school cap and red and white check yukata was immersed in a comic book. He had slipped off one of his sandals and was flicking it up and down with his toes, producing a sound like the clop-clop-clop of a horse’s hoof.
Max sat down next to the white-haired man and nodded towards him. ‘Viktor Laskaris?’
‘C’est moi.’ Laskaris touched his hat. ‘A pleasure to meet you, Mr Maxted.’
‘It’s more of a surprise to meet you. I thought you didn’t exist.’
‘A sleeping partner is not a non-existent partner. Alphonse liked to confuse people about such matters. He was not a naturally honest man.’
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Speaking to you.’
‘I meant what are you doing in Japan?’
‘The same as you. I am here to avenge a dead man.’
‘Soutine?’
‘Mais oui. Un cigare?’ Laskaris took out a case and offered Max a choice of aromatic Havanas.
‘No thanks.’
‘Smoke a cigarette if you wish. I will not be offended.’
‘Perhaps I will.’ Max lit up. ‘How did you know where to find me?’
‘Seddik is with me, Mr Maxted. You know him as le Singe. You will be aware he can find things – including people – that are to others … elusive.’ Laskaris smiled. ‘We travelled here on the same ship as Lemmer and the Tomuras. They know me as Eugène Quinquaud, porcelain collector. They saw nothing of Seddik, though he saw a good deal of them. Since we arrived, I have made extensive enquiries regarding Count Tomura and his collaboration with Lemmer. Seddik has assisted me ably, as you may imagine. I have contacted you because your arrest last night and the death this morning of Anna Schmidt, alias Staun, suggest to me that a crisis is approaching. And I would not want you to meet it … unprepared.’
‘Le Singe – Seddik – has saved my life twice, monsieur. I’d like to have the chance to thank him.’
‘He requires no thanks. He bears some responsibility for your father’s death. Alphonse should not have allowed him to work for Tarn. But Alphonse always cared for money more than he should have. Helping you to kill Tarn and to escape being killed by Dombreux were honourable actions, however. I hope you agree?’
‘Of course. But—’
‘Seddik is watching us now. Can you see him?’
Max looked around. ‘No.’
‘You observe the signal gantry at the end of the platform?’
Max peered towards it, but saw nothing of le Singe. ‘Yes.’
‘What do you notice?’
‘Nothing.’
‘That is what you may expect to notice when Seddik watches you. We did not teach him to be so. He was born so, I think. With a gift not to be seen. You, of course, are rather more visible. Which may not be to your advantage.’
‘You seem very sure you know what brought me to Japan, monsieur.’
‘I am. Lemmer, of course. Service of your country. Le patriotisme. But also Tomura … and the Farngolds.’
‘Did you tell Seddik to write their name on the wall in London?’
‘Non, non. I was in Tunisia when all that happened. Attending to my interests. Seddik had seen the name in the documents he stole from Marquess Saionji. Or more correctly the document Marquess Saionji allowed him to steal. Seddik has, ah … une mémoire visuelle exceptionelle. He knew Alphonse had drawn your father’s attention to references in those documents to the Farngold family. He knew it was important to your father. And therefore to you.’
‘How much do you know about the Farngolds?’
‘Oh, everything. Everything that can be known, I think. I have the advantage of you. I have read the letter Jack Farngold sent to your father in Petrograd in October 1917. Seddik took it from the villa in Marseilles on my orders. It was actually why I sent him there. Sir Henry had spoken of it to Alphonse. It seemed likely it would give me the answers to many questions.’
‘Dombreux said it didn’t reveal Tomura’s secret.’
‘He lied. Which was as natural to him as breathing.’
‘You know he’s dead?’
‘I do. Also I know Matilda Tomura was your mother. I suspect you have discovered that only recently. Perhaps yesterday. Was that why you went to Tomura’s house last night?’
‘Yes.’ Max drew reflectively on his cigarette. For the first time since learning the truth about his parentage, he felt a measure of calm when contemplating the fact that the woman he had always regarded as his mother was not the woman who had given birth to him. ‘It came as rather a shock.’
‘This is English understatement, I assume.’
‘Will you give me the letter, monsieur? I am the son of the man it was addressed to, after all.’
‘It is rightfully yours, I agree. And I will give it to you. But first a word about the future. The immediate future. Do you know why Lemmer has left Tokyo?’
‘I think so, yes.’
‘Is it because you have succeeded in identifying his spies, leaving him with nothing to sell to the Japanese government?’
Max looked at Laskaris in some surprise. The man
really did seem to know everything.
Laskaris nodded, taking Max’s silence for confirmation. ‘I thought it must be so. Is that why Anna Schmidt killed herself?’
‘In part.’
‘So, Lemmer will be like us now – looking for revenge?’
‘Quite possibly.’
‘But this will not do enough damage to Tomura to satisfy you?’
‘Not nearly.’
‘Perhaps it will help you to know that I have already devised a scheme that will hurt Tomura – considerably.’
‘What sort of scheme?’
‘Noburo Tomura met an attractive young Frenchwoman on the voyage from Marseilles and became infatuated with her. Her name is Delphine Pouchert. She works for me. As does Louis Pouchert, who will shortly arrive in Tokyo, looking for his wife. Noburo does not think his mistress is married, of course. Pouchert will play the part of the outraged husband. He will challenge Noburo to a duel.’
‘A duel?’
‘French husbands can be old-fashioned in such matters. Duelling is illegal in Japan, as elsewhere, but what is the law where honour is at stake? Noburo will have a choice. Refuse to fight and be shamed. Or fight and be killed. Pouchert is an expert swordsman. The outcome is certain. So, Noburo will have to choose between disgrace and death. And his father will have to advise him what to do. The hero of two wars and the son who struts in his shadow. They will have to decide the value of their reputation. Difficult, I think.
‘But their difficulties do not end there. Count Tomura knows of Noburo’s relationship with Delphine. He regards it as harmless. I think he approves of his son keeping a foreign mistress. But he would not approve of the sport she has with his son. Delphine has enhanced the pleasure she gives Noburo during their encounters by persuading him to take various drugs, including the one his father makes so much profit out of selling to the Koreans: morphine. Noburo is addicted to that now as well as to Delphine. His ruin has already begun.
‘When it is complete, I will ensure Count Tomura understands why it has happened. If Noburo had simply killed Alphonse, I would not be here. My friend played too many clever games. They were always likely to lead him to his death. But to torture him as Noburo did? I cannot allow that. So, I will torture Noburo – and his father – in return.’
James Maxted 03 The Ends of the Earth Page 22