The Toyotomi Blades (Ken Tanaka Mysteries Book 2)

by Dale Furutani

  Junko had told me that the first segment was on a housewife from Osaka who had organized a group of other housewives to stop fraud from door-to-door vendors. She, her daughter, and her husband were also in the greenroom with me. They were all polite when I came in, but since they didn’t speak any English and we didn’t speak any Japanese, we really couldn’t have any conversation.

  It seemed like the time just crawled until the News Pop show started. Right before the start of the show, the housewife was taken from the greenroom to the set. Her husband and daughter waved good-bye to her like she was being taken off to be shipped to a penal colony on Mars.

  The opening credits of News Pop are computer graphics that take a fireworks display and swirl the exploding bursts until they form a couple of kanji that I assume mean News Pop. The kanji dissolve and reform over a map of the world. The segment on the Osaka housewife started with a video clip just as mine would and then they cut to the live interview.

  I can’t say I understood what the story of the Osaka housewife was all about. Mariko was as baffled as me. It had something to do with very aggressive street vendors who apparently sell Japanese futons, or quilts, door-to-door. It showed a clip of some kind of scientific lab taking a futon apart and measuring it and its contents, so I guess maybe people were being swindled and not getting the quality of quilt they thought they were buying.

  The housewife was not very lively during the interview. She sat at the desk with her hands folded demurely in her lap answering the questions with a hai, or yes, and occasionally giggling and putting her hands up to her mouth when Nagahara-san or Yukiko-chan cracked some kind of joke. It didn’t seem like much of a performance to me, but her husband and child seemed delighted. They were understandably glued to the television set in the greenroom, laughing when a joke was made and even clapping their hands together in a sort of applause to her hai’s, as if they were the most eloquent statements in the world.

  It’s great to have support and I appreciated Mariko being there. With the simultaneous translation, however, Mariko wouldn’t understand my interview. I’d be opening my mouth but Sugimoto’s voice speaking Japanese would be what was broadcast.

  I was pretty nervous when it was my time to go on the show. An aide came to get me out of the greenroom, and Mariko blew me a kiss. The show was in the midst of a commercial and Nagahara-san and Yukiko-chan both bowed politely as I sat down in my seat. I sort of dipped my head. The whole question of bowing is a really involved one, with all sorts of rules about how far you bow, who bows first, and what all the different kinds of bows mean. I realized that the three of us sitting at the desk looked Japanese, but with me the Japanese veneer was literally only skin deep and there were all sorts of things I didn’t know.

  The sword I’d brought with me was put on the counter in front of me as a prop. I took a look at it and it looked great. The handle had been rewrapped with glossy black silk cords.

  Technicians hooked me up with a mike to my lapel and fitted an earpiece to my left ear, which would be away from the camera. As soon as the piece was in my ear I heard Junko’s voice.

  “Are you nervous? Just nod ‘cause they’re not ready to do a sound check on your mike yet.”

  I nodded the affirmative.

  “Well you look good,” she said in my earpiece. “You shouldn’t be too nervous. You know what questions they’re going to start with, but I want you to know that I did talk to Nagahara-san about all the information you’ve dug up on the Toyotomi blades and he’s very interested in it. It’s likely that he’ll ask you some questions about it. He’s an old-time newshound, and if he senses a story he’s always interested in pursuing it.”

  There was a pause, and Junko said, “Why don’t you say something to me so we can get a sound check.”

  “Do you think he’ll ask many questions about the Toyotomi blades?”

  “I don’t know. We’re doing live interviews and one of the exciting things about live interviews is you can’t predict what will happen. Why don’t you say something else because we want to double check the sound levels.”

  “Okay. Testing one, two, three. Testing.”

  “Not very original.”

  “Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this sun of York.”

  “Still not original, but certainly classy.”

  Yukiko-chan, who evidently spoke some English, looked at me a little surprised and said, “Shakespeare.”

  I laughed and nodded. She laughed too. It was just what I needed to put me at ease. On one of the monitors, set in front of the desk, I could see that the piece about the murder was coming to a conclusion. I started to settle down, but then remembering what Junko told me, I slid to the edge of my seat, turned my body slightly, and tried to look bright and charming.

  Nagahara-sun started speaking and Junko starting translating simultaneously in English. It was sort of a weird experience and I learned that I could follow things much better if I tried to ignore what Nagahara-san was saying and just listened to the translation in my ear.

  We went through the prepared questions rather quickly and I tried to give what I thought were complete and interesting responses. It’s hard to know how successful I was, but I was determined that I wasn’t going to just sit there and say “yes” like the housewife.

  It seemed like I had been answering questions forever, but during a short pause when Nagahara-san was talking to Yukikochan, Junko said, “We still have several minutes to fill. Nagahara-san is telling Yukiko-chan a little bit about the Toyotomi blades mystery you’re now involved in.”

  Nagahara-san turned back to me and, through Junko’s translation, said, “I understand that you’ve been working on another mystery in the time you’ve been in Japan.”

  “Yes I have. It’s kind of a strange mystery that’s tied into Japanese history.” I launched into the story of the Toyotomi blades, adding what Junko had found out about the robberies and murder in New York as well as the robberies in Rotterdam and in Tokyo.

  I picked up the sword in front of me and slid it from its scabbard, showing Nagahara-san and Yukiko-chan the pattern on the blades. Throughout my dissertation, Nagahara-san and Yukiko-chan had been making encouraging comments, such as “Is that so,” “How interesting,” and “Really.” This is a speech pattern in Japanese that they often use on the telephone to encourage the speaker. Even though I knew this was just a polite convention, I actually found it comforting that they were murmuring these encouragements.

  When I finished recounting what I knew about the history of the blades as well as the current goings on, Nagahara-san said, “You found all this out in less than a week here in Tokyo?”

  “Yes. I got help from Sonoda-san in Kyoto as well as the News Pop research staff. When I get back to Los Angeles, I intend to work on the mystery a bit more because I find it a fascinating one.”

  “I think it is extremely interesting, too,” Nagahara-san said. “But wouldn’t it be easier to work on the mystery in Tokyo instead of Los Angeles?”

  “Yes it would, but unfortunately I’m scheduled to return to Los Angeles tomorrow.”

  “If News Pop paid your expenses and perhaps got you some additional research help, could you stay in Tokyo another week and spend some more time investigating the mystery of the Toyotomi blades?” Nagahara-san said to me.

  That took me by surprise, but I figured what the hell, I was unemployed and had no pressing engagements in Los Angeles. My girlfriend was here in Tokyo, anyway, and I’d gotten used to maid service, laundry service, limos, and restaurant-cooked meals paid for by someone else during my stay in Tokyo.

  “I think I can stay,” I said. “And with the help of the News Pop staff I also think that we can unravel a bit more of this particular mystery. I can’t promise to solve it in a week, but I’m sure that with a little bit more time we can uncover more information about the Toyotomi blades and the treasure that they’re supposed to be the key to.”

  “All right then,”
Nagahara-san said. “Please consider that we’ve given you an invitation to stay another week in Tokyo at our expense, and please come back on the show next week and tell about how much progress you’ve made.”

  “That’s a generous offer,” I stammered. “I’ll certainly do my best.”

  18

  Okay, I’ve got a big mouth. Sometimes it starts working before my brain is in gear. As soon as the closing credits for News Pop started crawling across the monitor screens in the studio, I knew I just had a major meltdown. I had an image of gears popping out of my ears as I tried to figure out why I had taken on this challenge.

  If you’re raised with an Asian background, the consequences of a big mouth can be dire because of the problem of face. Face is the notion that your life is tightly entwined with your family, your ancestors, your clan, your village, your company, and your country. When some disgrace or insult falls on you, it also falls on all the entities to which you’re connected. The shame is magnified a thousandfold. Face is often used to excuse all sorts of ridiculous behavior in books and movies. Unfortunately, it’s also a motivator for some equally ridiculous real-life actions.

  A few years ago the captain of a cargo vessel had the misfortune to get caught in a severe mid-Pacific storm. The captain might have avoided the worst of the storm by taking a longer route, but he was anxious to reach his destination. His ship was stuffed with Mazda automobiles and during the storm some of the cars broke free from their tie-downs and caused considerable damage. Almost one hundred cars were damaged.

  Other captains might have been able to shrug off the incident. The marine insurance would pay for the damage and no people were injured. But this captain was Japanese, and he had lost face. So when the vessel finally came into port he went to the deck where the worse damage occurred and tried to commit seppuku, which is a ritual suicide vulgarly known as hara kiri (slit the belly). Unfortunately for the captain, his archaic gesture turned from tragedy to farce because of one little detail: He didn’t bring a big enough knife. In the old days they committed seppuku with a short sword. The captain brought a pocketknife.

  He stabbed himself over twenty times. Stabbing yourself in the abdomen can be a painful and slow death, so seppuku usually involved an assistant who would cut off the head of the person committing the suicide. The captain had no assistant, and despite the number of stab wounds he had inflicted on himself, the crew was able to find him and get him to a hospital before he bled to death. Instead of dying to apologize for his lack of ability, the captain confirmed this lack in his botched suicide.

  I didn’t have a penknife, but my mouth was able to inflict all the damage necessary. I was supposed to uncover more information about the Toyotomi blades by staying in Japan another week. The truth was that for all I knew I could stay in Japan another year and still not find out any more information. When I thought of it, most of what I had now was given to me by Sonodasan or Junko. My major contribution was figuring out that the blades might fit together to form a map, and I wasn’t even sure if that was accurate.

  By agreeing to the challenge I ran the risk of embarrassing myself in a culture where embarrassment can be acute and serious. Of course, it wasn’t as if all my friends and neighbors would know what I had done. But I would know. The Japanese part of my Japanese-American heritage would be mortified by the loss of face if I didn’t come through with something.

  Junko and Sugimoto joined us in the studio. Yukiko-chan and Nagahara-san seemed very excited after the show. Sugimoto looked glum, as if Nagahara-san’s interest in the story was somehow a personal slight against him. Forming the Yin to Sugimoto’s Yang, Junko was simply beaming and basking in what I took to be praise from Nagahara-san and Yukiko-chan.

  When I asked Junko what they were telling her, she just smiled and said, “They’re very enthused about this story. We’re going to give it a big buildup over the next week. We got a pretty good response from the Sansei detective angle we played this week in our promos and next week should be even better because every school kid knows about Hideyoshi Toyotomi. This would be just like an American audience finding out about a treasure hidden by George Washington or Abraham Lincoln.”

  “But I’m not sure that I can find the treasure,” I protested. “I just said that I’d try to get more information about the blades by next week’s show.”

  “Oh, we know that,” Junko said airily. “Nagahara-san doesn’t expect you to solve the mystery. He just wants you to do your best over the next week. Whatever you come up with we’ll put into the most positive light possible. The big pull for next week’s show will be to find out what you came up with. You had a highly rated show in the States about Al Capone’s vault. When they opened it on live television they found a bunch of dirt and a few old bottles. The sponsors got their audience, though, which was the real point of the show.”

  “But I’m going to need some help to work on this. I don’t want to end up looking stupid on next week’s show.”

  “I called one of the executives at Nissan. The staff hunted down his home phone number for me. We discussed your need for help with computer enhancement and he agreed to get Nissan to help you.”

  “But wouldn’t it be easier to get originals sent from Rotterdam or New York?”

  “Sure, but that would cut into several minutes of video tape showing Nissan’s technological prowess. They’re one of our main sponsors and that kind of piece won’t hurt them and it certainly won’t hurt the show.”

  “But what if I don’t find out anything new about the blades in the next week?”

  “Oh, I’m sure you will.” Junko looked almost effervescent. She had an expression on her face that said the possibility that I wouldn’t find anything more about the blades was unthinkable. Unfortunately, that was all I could think of.

  When I got back to the greenroom, Mariko gave me a big kiss. “We don’t have to worry about your makeup now! You looked great, but I didn’t understand what was going on. You opened your mouth and all this Japanese came out. I started giggling. It looked like one of those badly dubbed kung fu movies. The two anchors seemed extremely pleased at the end.”

  “They should be pleased. I told them I’d stay another week in Tokyo and solve the mystery of the Toyotomi blades for them.”

  “You what?”

  “Well, actually I said I’d work on the mystery and see what I could come up with. But it’s obvious that they’ve got pretty high expectations.”

  “Ken, why would you say you’d solve the mystery?”

  “I didn’t say I could solve the mystery. I said I would work on the mystery. I don’t know if the mystery can be solved. It will let me stay another week with you here in Tokyo.”

  “But what about the Yakuza who are after you?”

  “I’d forgotten that little detail,” I said. “Thanks for reminding me.”

  19

  The world headquarters for Nissan Motors occupies two imposing towers on the outskirts of the Ginza district. It was walking distance from the Imperial Hotel, but I took a cab. The talk of the Yakuza the previous night did not go unheeded.

  In a small courtyard outside the front entrance of the building were a series of ancient building blocks projecting from the stone floor of the courtyard like weathered dragon’s teeth. They looked centuries old and appeared to be pieces from some ancient castle. Just a few feet away was the lobby and showroom for Nissan, with new cars basking under lighting that made them look positively glossy. The dichotomy of old and new is the prevailing theme in Japan.

  A crew from News Pop was there to film me walking into the Nissan building. They made me do it three times so they could get different angles of me walking into the building with the single camera they brought. It made me feel silly, especially as a small crowd gathered, and I was grateful when the camera crew left so I could go about the business of trying to enhance the fax images.

  In the lobby I was greeted by a pleasant young woman sitting at a reception desk. Her English was we
ak, but good enough to understand that I was there for a meeting with a Mr. Kiyohara. I cooled my heels for a few minutes looking at the new cars and another young woman appeared to take me to an elevator. Once we were on the working floors of the building, the shiny newness of the lobby was left behind and the halls and decor became very austere. The office she took me to was very much like the others I had seen in Japan, with rows of tiny desks facing each other, all jammed together. The desks were cluttered with papers, little souvenirs, photos, and people. Although several employees looked up as I entered, most seemed hard at work.

  At the end of each row was a slightly larger desk positioned so that the person sitting at it could look down the rows. Here the supervisor or manager sat. It gave the office a crowded but intimate atmosphere and allowed management to know almost through osmosis who was diligent and working hard and who wasn’t.

  Mr. Kiyohara was a tall, thin man with a soft-spoken manner. He was quite handsome, with sharp cheekbones and a square-cut chin. His eyes sparkled with intelligence. His English had a mumbled quality to it, as if he wasn’t quite confident of his command of the language and didn’t want to speak out, but I found it very understandable.

  “The television program explained what you’re trying to do. I hope we can help,” Kiyohara said after we had introduced ourselves. He seemed to be in his mid-forties and his face had a serious demeanor that I’ve noticed on other adult Japanese, but with Kiyohara I got the impression that the seriousness was a mask and underneath there was a lively sense of humor to match the intelligence shown in the eyes.

  Kiyohara led me to a conference room. Like the rest of the office, it was positively spartan, with a gray metal table with chairs of green vinyl and metal. He introduced me to several younger Japanese whom he identified as team members who worked in the area of photo enhancement, and I noted that two of the team members were women.