Then I heard Connor say, "Ah, shit!" and he broke into a run, sprinting across the studio toward the stairs. I stood up, surprised, dropped the phone, and followed him. As Connor passed Woodson, he said "You son of a bitch," and then he was taking the stairs two at a time, racing upward. I was right behind him. I heard Woodson say something like, "I had to."
When we got to the second floor hallway Connor shouted "Senator!" That was when we heard the single, cracking report. It wasn't loud: it sounded like a chair falling over.
But I knew that it was a gunshot.
SECOND NIGHT
☼
The sun was setting on the sekitei. The shadows of the rocks rippled over the concentric circles of raked sand. I sat and stared at the patterns. Connor was somewhere inside, still watching television. I could faintly hear the newscast. Of course, a Zen temple would have a television set on the premises. I was starting to become accustomed to these contradictions.
But I didn't want to watch TV any more. I had seen enough, in the last hour, to know how the media was going to play it. Senator Morton had been under a great deal of stress lately. His family life was troubled; his teenage son had recently been arrested for drunk driving, after an accident in which another teenager had been seriously injured. The senator's daughter was rumored to have had an abortion. Mrs. Morton was not available for comment, although reporters were standing outside the family townhouse in Arlington.
The senator's staff all agreed that the senator had been under enormous pressure lately, trying to balance family life and his own impending candidacy. The senator had not been himself; he had been moody and withdrawn, and in the words of one staffer, "He seemed to have been troubled by something personal."
While no one questioned the senator's judgment, one colleague, Senator Dowling, said that Morton had "become a bit of a fanatic about Japan lately, perhaps an indication of the strain he was under. John didn't seem to think accommodation with Japan was possible anymore, and of course we all know that we have to make an accommodation. Our two nations are now too closely bound together. Unfortunately, none of us could have known the strain he was really under. John Morton was a private man."
I sat watching the rocks in the garden turn gold, then red. An American Zen monk named Bill Harris came out and asked me if I wanted tea, or perhaps a Coke. I said no. He went away. Looking back inside, I saw flickering blue light from the tube. I couldn't see Connor.
I looked back at the rocks in the garden.
The first gunshot had not killed Senator Morton. When we kicked open the bathroom door, he was bleeding from the neck, staggering to his feet. Connor shouted "Don't!" just as Morton put the gun in his mouth and fired again. The second shot was fatal. The gun kicked out of his hands and went spinning across the tile floor of the bathroom. It came to rest near my shoes. There was a lot of blood on the walls.
Then people started screaming. I had turned back and I saw the makeup girl in the doorway, holding her hands to her face and screaming at the top of her lungs. Eventually, when the paramedics came, they sedated her.
Connor and I had stayed until the division sent Bob Kaplan and Tony Marsh. They were the detectives in charge, and we were free to go. I told Bob we'd give statements whenever he wanted them, and we left. I noticed that Ishiguro had already gone. So had Eddie Sakamura.
That had bothered Connor. "That damn Eddie," he said. "Where is he?"
"Who cares?" I said.
"There's a problem with Eddie," Connor said.
"What problem?"
"Didn't you notice how he acted around Ishiguro? He was too confident," Connor said. "Much too confident. He should have been frightened and he wasn't."
I shrugged. "You said it yourself, Eddie's crazy. Who knows why he does what he does." I was tired of the case, and tired of Connor's endless Japanese nuances. I said I thought Eddie had probably gone back to Japan. Or to Mexico, where he had said earlier that he wanted to go.
"I hope you're right," Connor said.
He led me toward the rear entrance to the station. Connor said he wanted to leave before the press arrived. We got into our car and left. He directed me to the Zen center. We had been there ever since. I had called Lauren but she was out of the office. I called Theresa at the lab but her line was busy. I called home, and Elaine said that Michelle was fine, and the reporters had all gone. She asked if I wanted her to stay and give Michelle dinner. I said yes, that I might be home late.
And then for the next hour, I watched television. Until I didn't want to watch any more.
It was almost dark. The sand was purple-gray. My body was stiff from sitting, and it was growing chilly. My beeper went off, I was getting a call from the division. Or perhaps it was Theresa. I got up and went inside.
On the television set, Senator Stephen Rowe was expressing sympathy for the bereaved family, and talking about the fact that Senator Morton had been overstressed. Senator Rowe pointed out that the Akai offer had not been withdrawn. The sale was, so far as Rowe knew, still going through, and there would not now be any serious opposition.
"Hmmm," Connor said.
"The sale is back on?" I said.
"It seems it was never off." Connor was obviously worried.
"You don't approve of the sale?"
"I'm worried about Eddie. He was so cocky. It's a question of what Ishiguro will do now."
"Who cares?" I was tired. The girl was dead, Morton was dead, and the sale was going forward.
Connor shook his head. "Remember the stakes," he said. "The stakes are huge. Ishiguro isn't concerned about a sordid little murder, or even the strategic purchase of some high-tech company. Ishiguro is concerned about Nakamoto's reputation in America. Nakamoto has a large corporate presence in America, and it wants it to be larger. Eddie can damage that reputation."
"How?"
He shook his head. "I don't know, for sure."
My beeper went off again. I called in. It was Frank Ellis, the watch officer at division headquarters for the evening.
"Hey, Pete," he said. "We got a call for Special Services. Sergeant Matlovsky, down at vehicle impound. He's asking for language assistance."
"What is it?" I said.
"He says he's got five Japanese nationals down there, demanding to inspect the wrecked vehicle."
I frowned. "What wrecked vehicle?"
"That Ferrari. The one in the high-speed pursuit. Apparently it's pretty ragged: the impact crushed it, and there was a fire. And the body was cut out with torches by the VHDV teams this morning. But the Japanese insist on inspecting the vehicle anyway. Matlovsky can't tell from the paperwork whether it's okay to let somebody look at it or not. You know, whether it's material to an ongoing investigation or not. And he can't speak the language to understand the Japanese. One of the Japanese claims to be related to the deceased. So, you want to go down there and handle it?"
I sighed. "Am I on tonight? I was on last night."
"Well, you're on the board. You traded nights with Allen, looks like."
I dimly remembered. I had traded nights with Jim Allen so he could take his kid to a Kings hockey game. I had agreed to it a week ago, but it seemed like something from my distant past.
"Okay," I said. "I'll handle it."
I went back to tell Connor I had to leave. He listened to the story and suddenly jumped to his feet, "Of course! Of course! What was I thinking of? Damn!" He pounded his hand in his fist. "Let's go, kōhai."
"We're going to impound?"
"Impound? Absolutely not."
"Then what are we doing?"
"Oh, damn it, I'm a fool!" he said. He was already heading for the car.
I hurried after him.
* * *
As I pulled up in front of Eddie Sakamura's house, Connor leapt from the car, and raced up the steps. I parked and ran after him. The sky was deep blue. It was almost night.
Connor was taking the steps two at a time. "I blame myself," he said. "I should have seen it earlier. I sho
uld have understood what it meant."
"What what meant?" I said. I was panting a little, at the top of the steps.
Connor threw open the front door. We went inside. The living room was exactly as I had last seen it, earlier in the day, when I had stood there talking to Graham.
Connor went quickly from room to room. In the bedroom, a suitcase lay open. Armani and Byblos jackets lay on the bed, waiting to be packed. "The little idiot," Connor said. "He should never have come back here."
The pool lights were on outside. They cast a green rippling pattern on the ceiling. Connor went outside.
The body lay face down in the water, naked, floating in the center of the pool, a dark silhouette in the glowing green rectangle. Connor got a skimmer pole and pushed Eddie toward the far edge. We hauled him up onto the concrete lip.
The body was blue and cold, beginning to stiffen. He appeared unmarked.
"They would be careful about that," Connor said.
"About what?"
"About not letting anything show. But I'm sure we can find the proofs . . ." He got out his penlight and peered inside Eddie's mouth. He inspected the nipples, and the genitals. "Yes. There. See the rows of red dots? On the scrotum. And there on the side of the thigh . . ."
"Alligator clips?"
"Yes. For the electric shock coil. Damn!" Connor said. "Why didn't he tell me? All that time, when we were driving from your apartment to the television station to see the senator. He could have said something then. He could have told me the truth."
"About what?"
Connor didn't answer me. He was lost in his own thoughts. He sighed. "You know, in the end, we are just gaijin. Foreigners. Even in his desperation, we're excluded. And anyway, he probably wouldn't tell us because . . ."
He fell silent. He stared at the corpse. Finally, he slid the body back into the water. It floated out again.
"Let somebody else do the paperwork," Connor said, standing up. "We don't need to be the ones who found the body. It doesn't matter." He watched Eddie drift back to the center of the pool. The head tilted down slightly. The heels bobbed on the surface.
"I liked him," Connor said. "He did favors for me. I even met his family when I was in Japan. Some of his family. Not the father." He watched the body rotate slowly. "But Eddie was okay. And now, I want to know."
I was lost. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I didn't think I should say anything. Connor looked angry.
"Come on," he said finally. "We have to move fast. There's only a couple of possibilities. And once again, we have fallen behind events. But if it's the last thing I do, I want to get that son of a bitch."
"What son of a bitch?"
"Ishiguro."
☼
We were driving back to my apartment. "You take the night off," he said.
"I'm going with you," I said.
"No. I'll do this alone, kōhai. It's better if you don't know."
"Know what?" I said.
We went on like this for a while. He didn't want to tell me. Finally he said, "Tanaka went to Eddie's house last night because Eddie had the tape. Presumably, the original."
"Right . . ."
"And Tanaka wanted it back. That's why they had an argument. When you and Graham came, and all hell broke loose, Eddie told Tanaka the tape was in the Ferrari. So Tanaka went down there, panicked when he saw the police, and drove the car away."
"Right."
"I always assumed the tape was destroyed in the crash, and the fire."
"Yes . . ."
"But obviously it wasn't. Because Eddie wouldn't dare be so cocky around Ishiguro unless he still had a tape. The tape would be his ace in the hole. He knew it. But he obviously didn't understand how ruthless Ishiguro would be."
"They tortured him for the tape?"
"Yes. But Eddie must have surprised them. He didn't tell them."
"How do you know?"
"Because," Connor said, "otherwise, there wouldn't be five Japanese nationals asking to inspect the wreck of a Ferrari in the middle of the night."
"So they're still looking for the tape?"
"Yes. Or evidence of the tape. They may not even know how many are missing, at this point."
I thought it over.
"What are you going to do?" I said.
"Find the tape," Connor said. "Because it matters. People are dying for that tape. If we can find the original . . ." He shook his head. "It'll put Ishiguro in deep shit. Which is just where he belongs."
I pulled up in front of my apartment building. As Elaine had said, all the reporters were gone. The street was quiet. Dark.
"I still want to go with you," I said again.
Connor shook his head. "I'm on extended leave," he said. "You're not. You've got your pension to think of. And you don't want to know exactly what I am going to do tonight."
"I can guess," I said. "You're going to retrace Eddie's steps from last night. Eddie left his house and went to stay with the redhead. Maybe he went somewhere else, too— "
"Look," Connor said. "Let's not waste more time, kōhai. I have some contacts and some people I can lean on. Leave it at that. If you need me, you can call me on the car phone. But don't call unless you have to. Because I'll be busy."
"But— "
"Come on, kōhai. Out of the car. Spend a nice night with your kid. You did a good job, but your job is finished now."
Finally, I got out of the car.
"Sayonara," Connor said, with an ironic wave. And he drove off.
"Daddy! Daddy!" She ran toward me, arms outstretched. "Pick me up, Daddy."
I picked her up. "Hi, Shelly."
"Daddy, can I watch Sleeping Beauty?"
"I don't know. Have you had dinner yet?"
"She ate two hot dogs and an ice cream cone," Elaine said. She was washing dishes in the kitchen.
"Jeez," I said. "I thought we were going to stop feeding her junk food."
"Well, it's all she would eat," Elaine said. She was irritable. It was the end of a long day with a two-year-old.
"Daddy, can I watch Sleeping Beauty?"
"Just a minute, Shelly, I'm talking to Elaine."
"I tried that soup," Elaine said, "but she wouldn't touch it. She wanted a hot dog."
"Daddy, can I watch Disney channel?"
"Michelle," I said.
Elaine said, "So I thought it was better that she eat something. I think she was thrown off. You know, the reporters and everything. All the excitement."
"Daddy? Can I? Sleeping Beauty?" She was squirming in my arms. Patting my face to get my attention.
"Okay, Shel."
"Now, Daddy?"
"Okay."
I put her down. She ran into the living room and turned on the TV, pushing the remote without hesitation. "I think she watches too much television."
"They all do," Elaine said, shrugging.
"Daddy?"
I went into the living room and plugged in the cassette. I fast-forwarded to the credits, then let it run.
"Not this part," she said impatiently.
So I fast-forwarded to the beginning of the action. Pages turning in a book.
"This part, this part," she said, tugging at my hand.
I let the tape run at normal speed. Michelle sat in the chair and started sucking her thumb. She pulled her thumb out of her mouth and patted the seat beside her. "Here, Daddy," she said.
She wanted me to sit with her.
I sighed. I looked at the room. It was a mess. Her crayons and coloring books were scattered over the floor. And the large Tinkertoy windmill.
"Let me clean up," I said. "I'll be right here, with you."
She popped her thumb back in her mouth, and turned to the screen. Her attention was total.
I cleaned up the crayons and put them back in the cardboard box. I folded up her coloring books and set them on the shelf. I was suddenly tired and sat down for a minute on the floor next to Michelle. On the screen, three fairies, red, green, and blue, w
ere flying into the throne room of the castle.
"That's Merryweather," Michelle said, pointing. "She's the blue one."
From the kitchen, Elaine said, "Can I fix you a sandwich, Lieutenant?"
"That'd be great," I said. I found I just wanted to sit there and be with my daughter. I wanted to forget everything, at least for a while. I was grateful that Connor had dropped me off. I sat and watched the TV dumbly.
Elaine brought in a salami sandwich with lettuce and mustard. I was hungry. Elaine looked at the TV, shook her head, and went back into the kitchen. I ate my sandwich, and Michelle insisted on a few bites. She likes salami. I worry about the additives in it, but I guess it's no worse than hot dogs.
After I had the sandwich, I felt a little better. I got up to finish cleaning up the room. I picked up the Tinkertoy windmill and started taking it apart, putting the sticks back into the cardboard tube. Michelle said, "No this, no this!" in a pained voice. I thought she didn't want me to take apart the windmill, but that wasn't it at all. She was cupping her hands over her eyes. She didn't like to see Maleficent, the bad witch. I fast-forwarded past the witch, and she relaxed again.
I dismantled the Tinkertoy windmill and put everything back into the tube container. I put the metal cap on the tube and set it on the lowest shelf of the bookcase. That was where it always went. I like to keep the toys low, so Michelle can get to them herself.
The tube fell off the shelf, onto the carpet. I picked it up again. There was something on the shelf. A small gray rectangle. I knew at once what it was.
It was an eight-millimeter video cassette, with Japanese writing on the label.
☼
Elaine said, "Lieutenant? Do you need anything else?" She had her coat on; she was ready to go.
"Hang on a minute," I said.
I went to the phone, and called the switchboard downtown. I asked them to connect me to Connor in my car. I waited impatiently. Elaine looked at me.
"Just another minute, Elaine," I said.
On the TV, the prince was singing a duet with Sleeping Beauty while birds chirped. Michelle was sucking her thumb.
Michael Crichton - Rising Sun Page 31