Tokyo Redux

by David Peace

  Any arrests?

  No, sir, not as far as I am aware, sir. It is my understanding that all threats were made anonymously.

  Okay, said the Colonel. Chief Evans –

  Chief Evans stood up, turned now to face Bill Betz, Susumu Toda and Harry Sweeney, careful not to be standing directly in front of Colonel Pullman: You are to drop all other cases or work with immediate effect. You are to focus only on this case until further notice. You are to assume that Shimoyama has been kidnapped by either railroad workers, trade unionists, Communists or a combination of the three, and that he is being held against his will in an unknown location, and you are to conduct your investigation accordingly until you receive orders to the contrary. Is that understood?

  Yes, Chief, said Toda, Betz, and Harry Sweeney.

  Toda, take your eyes and ears over to Metro HQ. I want to know what they know as soon as they know it, and what they’re going to do before they do it. Understood?

  Yes, sir. Yes, Chief.

  Mister Betz, go over to Norton Hall and see what CIC have got on these death threats. Be the usual big fat nothing, I reckon, but least no one can say we didn’t try.

  Yes, Chief.

  Sweeney, get yourself up to Civil Transport. Find out who we got there, find out what he knows.

  Yes, Chief.

  The Colonel, Lieutenant Batty, and myself will be in a meeting at the Dai-ichi with General Willoughby and others. But any information whatsoever you receive, pertaining to the whereabouts of Mister Shimoyama, then you call the Dai-ichi building immediately and you ask to be put through to speak to me as a matter of extreme urgency. Is that understood?

  Yes, Chief, said Toda, Betz, and Harry Sweeney.

  Thank you, Chief Evans, said the Colonel, coming round from behind his desk to stand beside the Chief, standing in front of William Betz, Susumu Toda, and Harry Sweeney, to look from one man to the other, to stare each man in the eye: General Willoughby wants this man found. We all want this man found. And we want him found today and found alive.

  Yes, sir, barked Toda, Betz, and Harry Sweeney.

  Very good then, said the Colonel. Dismissed.

  * * *

  —

  Harry Sweeney pushed his way through a crowd of people up to the third floor of the Bank of Chōsen building. The corridor was full of Japanese staff, running this way and that, in and out this door and that, answering telephones and clutching papers. He weaved his way toward Room 308. He showed his PSD wallet to the secretary outside the room and said, Sweeney, Public Safety Division. Colonel Channon is expecting me.

  The man nodded: Go right in, sir.

  Harry Sweeney knocked twice on the door, opened it, stepped into the room, looked at the flabby man sat behind a spartan desk, and said, Police Investigator Sweeney, sir.

  Lieutenant Colonel Donald E. Channon smiled. He nodded. He got up from behind his desk. He pointed to a chair in front of the desk. He smiled again and said, Take a load off, Mister Sweeney, and sit yourself down.

  Thank you, sir.

  Colonel Channon sat back down behind his desk, smiled again, and said, I know you, Mister Sweeney. You’re famous, you were in the papers: “the Eliot Ness of Japan,” that’s what they called you. That was you, right?

  That was me, sir, yes, sir. Before.

  Used to see you around town, too. Always some able Grable on your arm. Can’t say I’ve seen you recently, though.

  I’ve been away, sir.

  Well, we sure picked a fine day to finally hook up. Goddamn Bedlam out there. Like Grand Central Station.

  I saw that, sir.

  Been like this since old Shimoyama decided not to show up for work this morning.

  Why I’m here, sir.

  He sure picked his day, too. Goddamn morning after the Fourth of July. I don’t know about you, Mister Sweeney, but I was hoping for a quiet day. A very quiet day.

  I think we all were, sir.

  Colonel Channon laughed. He massaged his temples and said, Jeez, do I wish I’d taken it easy last night. Lucky I ain’t got the old katzenjammers.

  You and me both, sir.

  Colonel Channon laughed again: You look like you seen better mornings. Where you from, Mister Sweeney?

  Montana, sir.

  Hell, this must be a change of pace.

  It keeps me busy, sir.

  You bet it does. I’m from Illinois, Mister Sweeney. Used to work for Illinois Central Railroad. Now I got the whole of Japan. Been here since August ’45. My first office was a carriage on a cargo train. I’ve seen the whole country, Mister Sweeney. Top to tail. Every goddamn station, I reckon.

  Some job, sir.

  Colonel Channon stared across his desk at Harry Sweeney. He nodded: You bet it is. But you didn’t come here for a history lesson, did you, Mister Sweeney?

  No, sir. Not today, sir.

  Colonel Channon had stopped smiling, stopped nodding. He was still staring at Harry Sweeney: Colonel Pullman send you over, did he?

  Chief Evans, sir.

  Same game, different name. You all answer to General Willoughby anyways. But they must be spooked if they’ve sent you over, Mister Sweeney. They’re worried, yeah?

  They’re concerned, sir.

  Well, swell as it is to finally meet you, Mister Sweeney, you could have saved yourself the trip here.

  Harry Sweeney reached inside his jacket. He took out a notebook and a pencil. How’s that, sir?

  Colonel Channon glanced at the notebook and the pencil, then looked up at Harry Sweeney: You a gambling man, Mister Sweeney? You ever like to take a bet?

  No, sir. Not if I can help it, sir.

  Well, that’s a shame, a real damn shame. Because I’d bet you a hundred bucks, a hundred of my US dollars, Mister Sweeney, that good old Shimoyama will make like Cinderella and be back home sweet home before midnight tonight.

  You sound very certain, sir?

  You bet I am, Mister Sweeney. I know the man. I work with him every day. Every goddamn day.

  He often go AWOL, does he?

  Listen, here’s the thing: last night my secretary comes in, he tells me he’s heard from someone in their head office that Shimoyama is going to jump. No surprise to me, Mister Sweeney. No surprise to you either, I’m guessing. You read the papers. The man is under pressure. He’s the President of the Japanese National Railroads for Chrissake. He’s firing over one hundred thousand of his own goddamn men. Shimoyama didn’t even want the job. Straight up, I didn’t want him either. Anyway, I get a jeep, go out to his place. Talk him back down.

  That would be his house in Denen Chōfu, sir?

  Somewhere out that way, yeah.

  And what time was this, sir?

  Sometime after midnight, I guess.

  And you saw him?

  You bet I did. His wife and his son were still up, so we went into this little old reception room they have. It’s a big house, you know. Nice place. So anyway, me and him, we go in there, just me and him, and we talk.

  He speaks English?

  Better than you and me, Mister Sweeney. But he was exhausted. The man was shattered. The pressure he’s under. But you see, this pressure is not from the union, not from the workers. There is that, but he can handle that. What he can’t handle is all the goddamn internal bullshit.

  Internal?

  Inside the Railroad. That place is a goddamn nest of vipers, I’m telling you. They could do with someone like you in there, Mister Sweeney. Clean the place up. Now old Shimoyama, he’s Mister Clean. But he’s not like you, he’s not like me, he’s no tough guy. See, this is why he didn’t want to be president. Why no one wanted him. Too goddamn clean.

  Someone must have wanted him?

  Yeah, right. But see, the feller who’s his deputy, Katayama, he’s the one they all wanted. Bu
t his wife’s father, he’s caught up in some bullshit scandal. Goddamn press would never have bought it. So they picked on good old Shimoyama. Thought he was easy, thought he was soft. They know they’re going to have to cut all these men. They figure old Shimoyama does the dirty work for them, then they’ll cut him, too.

  He took the job knowing all this?

  Yes and no, Mister Sweeney. Yes and no. See, cutting the work force is only one part of the goddamn mess. They’re losing money hand over fist. For my sins, I got to get them back on track. That’s me, Mister Sweeney: Colonel Back-on-Track. Then keep them on the goddamn rails. That means restructuring, massive restructuring. All the kickbacks, the handouts, the extra pay days and usual graft: all that’s got to go, got to stop.

  And they don’t like it?

  You bet they don’t, Mister Sweeney. They don’t like it one bit. So they’re freezing the guy out, giving him the shoulder, leaving him swinging. Him taking all the heat from the unions, him getting all the hate mail. All that crap on him.

  So you’re aware of all the threats that have been made against him then, sir?

  You seen the posters all over town?

  Yes, sir.

  So you know, I know, the whole goddamn country knows. But like I say, that’s not why he wanted to quit, why he wanted to walk. Old Shimoyama’s tougher than he looks.

  You said he was no tough guy, sir?

  I mean not like you, not like me. You saw combat, yeah? Well, that was my second war, Mister Sweeney. Old Shimoyama, he sat the whole thing out behind his desk.

  But he’s tougher than he looks?

  Look, he can handle all the threats. No problem. It’s all this internal bullshit he can’t take. They all nod along, all agree with his plans. But then they just sit on their hands and scheme against him. Den of goddamn thieves, I’m telling you.

  But you went out to see him last night, sir?

  Yeah, like I say. I go out there. We talk. He tells me the burden’s too heavy. Apologizing away, but telling me he’s had a bellyful. So I give him the spiel, you know, how what he’s doing is so important for Japan, rebuilding his country. How if he resigned, it would screw the whole thing up.

  And he bought it?

  You bet he did, Mister Sweeney. I could sell a Bible to the Pope. We were laughing and joking when I left.

  And what time was that, sir?

  About two, I reckon. See, I’m guessing he didn’t sleep too good, so he’s just off resting someplace, waiting for all the heat to blow over. He’ll turn up, Mister Sweeney.

  You seem very certain, Colonel.

  You bet I am. A hundred bucks says I am, if you still want it? I know the man, Mister Sweeney. Work with him every day. See him every day. Every goddamn day of the week.

  Except today, sir.

  Colonel Donald E. Channon stared across his desk at Harry Sweeney. Then he glanced at his watch, stood up and said, I need the can, Mister Sweeney. Then I need to get back to running my railroad.

  Harry Sweeney put his pencil inside his notebook. He closed the notebook: May I use your telephone, sir?

  Knock yourself out.

  Thank you, sir.

  Colonel Channon stopped beside Harry Sweeney’s chair. He put a fat, wet hand on Harry Sweeney’s shoulder: Believe me, Mister Sweeney. He’ll turn up.

  I believe you, sir.

  * * *

  —

  Harry Sweeney could see Toda up ahead, standing outside Metropolitan Police HQ, smoking a cigarette next to a car. Harry Sweeney wiped his face and neck again, then lit a cigarette of his own as he came up to Toda: You got anything?

  Nothing new, said Toda. Both Rooms One and Two are on it, acting like it’s the biggest thing since Teigin. They’re putting it out on the radio at five. It’ll make the evening papers. So they’re just sitting around, waiting by the telephones.

  Harry Sweeney dropped his cigarette on the ground, stood on it, then pointed at the car: This for us?

  Yes, said Toda. You got something?

  Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know.

  Does the Chief know?

  He’s in a meeting.

  You should call him, Harry, tell him.

  Harry Sweeney opened the back door: Tell him what?

  Tell him where we’re going.

  Harry Sweeney got into the back of the car. He slid across the seat. He wound down the window. He leaned forward. He recognized the driver: Hey, Ichirō.

  Hello, sir.

  Harry Sweeney took out his notebook. He opened it, turned the pages, then said, 1081 Kami-ikegami, Ōta Ward.

  Yes, sir, said Ichirō.

  I don’t think that’s a good idea, said Toda, getting in beside Harry Sweeney, closing the door.

  Harry Sweeney smiled: You got a better one?

  * * *

  —

  It took thirty minutes to drive out along Avenue B to Senzoku Pond, then a couple more minutes to find the Shimoyama residence, down the hill from the pond, in a quiet, shaded street, one uniformed officer standing in front of the gate to the house. No crowds, no cars, no press, not yet.

  Nice neighborhood, said Toda. Must cost a fortune to live round here. A fortune, Harry.

  Harry Sweeney got out of the car. He wiped his face and neck. He looked up at a large British-style house, shielded by high hedges and tall trees.

  Harry Sweeney and Susumu Toda showed their PSD badges to the uniformed officer at the gate. They walked up the short drive, showed their badges to the officer at the door, then stepped inside the house, their hats in their hands.

  A maid showed Harry Sweeney and Susumu Toda into a Japanese-style reception room. Detective Hattori from the MPD was there. He introduced them to another detective, one from the Higashi-Chōfu station, and then to Ōtsuka, the secretary to President Shimoyama. Ōtsuka bowed, thanked them for coming, then asked, Is there any news?

  No, said Harry Sweeney. I’m sorry.

  Ōtsuka sighed, Ōtsuka shrank. He was a young man, in his twenties, but aging fast.

  Harry Sweeney asked them all to sit back down, their knees at the low table. The maid brought in tea, the maid served the tea. Harry Sweeney asked, Where are the family?

  Upstairs, said Detective Hattori.

  Harry Sweeney looked across the low table at the young secretary. This anxious man, this nervous man. Harry Sweeney took out his notebook and pencil: Tell me about this morning, please. Mister Shimoyama’s schedule.

  Well, we were expecting the President at Headquarters as usual. The President usually arrives sometime between eight forty-five and nine o’clock. I was waiting for the President at the back entrance, as I always do. I waited there until about nine fifteen. Then I went back to my office and called Missus Shimoyama. She told me the President had left home as usual, at around eight twenty. Occasionally, the President does go somewhere before arriving at the office. So I thought maybe the President had gone to CTS, to the Bank of Chōsen building. But when I called there, they said the President was not there, and he’d not been there. So then for about the next hour or so, I was just calling any place I could think the President might have gone. I must have disturbed Missus Shimoyama three or four more times, to check if she’d heard from the President. Because by this time, we were worried, very worried. Then I met with Vice President Katayama and with two of the other directors. The Director of Security spoke with Lieutenant Colonel Channon, and I believe Vice President Katayama then visited GHQ. We also called the Metropolitan Police Headquarters, of course. And then, about three o’clock, I came out here to visit Missus Shimoyama and to meet these officers.

  Harry Sweeney stopped writing. He looked up from his notebook: But what appointments did Mister Shimoyama have scheduled for this morning?

  Well, apart from our morning meeting, the regular one we have every day, the Presid
ent had an appointment at GHQ with Mister Hepler, the Chief of the Labor Division.

  What time was that scheduled?

  Eleven o’clock.

  At GHQ?

  Yes.

  Has Mister Shimoyama ever failed to keep any appointments before?

  This young man, this anxious, nervous man, shifted on his knees, looked down at his hands, and said, Not usually, no.

  But sometimes, yes?

  Ōtsuka looked up from his hands, Ōtsuka looked across the table at Harry Sweeney: The President has a very difficult job. His work is very demanding, his work is extremely tiring. For these past few weeks, the President has been working without rest. These past few weeks, there have been occasions when the President has had to suddenly adjust his schedule at short notice. The President has often been summoned to the CTS, or to GHQ, and at very short notice. It is a very difficult time for us all, and for the President more than anybody. We are having to dismiss over one hundred thousand members of our staff. Over one hundred thousand men. The President carries this weight personally, feels this responsibility, this burden. Every day. It’s a very difficult time for him.

  Harry Sweeney nodded: We are aware of how difficult the present situation is for Mister Shimoyama. That is why we are here. Thank you for answering my questions.

  Harry Sweeney turned to Detective Hattori and said, I’d like to speak with Missus Shimoyama.

  Detective Hattori led Harry Sweeney and Susumu Toda out of the room, up the stairs to another, larger Japanese room. There was a wooden desk, there was a large wardrobe. An elderly woman, two teenage boys, and a middle-aged woman in a somber kimono were sitting in the room. Detective Hattori introduced Harry Sweeney and Susumu Toda. He asked the elderly woman and the two boys to come downstairs to wait with him. The boys looked to their mother, the mother smiled at her boys. The boys followed their grandmother and Detective Hattori out of the room. Harry Sweeney and Susumu Toda knelt down at another low table. Harry Sweeney said, Excuse us for disturbing you in this way, Missus Shimoyama.

  Missus Shimoyama shook her head: You are very welcome, Mister Sweeney. But do you have any news for me?