Tokyo Redux

by David Peace

  I know. But it’s my job to say them.

  You a Communist, is that it?

  I’m a code clerk at the Soviet Mission, said Lee Jung-Hwan, raising his head again, showing his face again.

  In the middle of nowhere, on the back seat of the parked car, Harry Sweeney looked away from the windshield again, away from the grays and the rusts and the browns again, looked away to stare at the remains of the face of this man again, the broken nose and cheeks, the eyes swollen and shut, the ears twisted and torn, the blacks and the purples and the reds of the remains of the face of this man, so many shades of black and purple and red, and Harry Sweeney said, Can you prove it?

  Not now, not here, said Lee Jung-Hwan, pulling at his clothes, torn and stained with blood and oil, their pockets empty. But if you take me to your office, if you make some calls, if you check, then you’ll have your proof.

  First, tell me why I should, tell me what you know about the death of President Shimoyama.

  Now, here?

  Yes.

  Okay then, sighed Lee Jung-Hwan. Okay. Well, as a code clerk I’ve seen the official communications between Moscow and Tokyo about Shimoyama…

  Go on –

  So in April, I think it was, when the retrenchment program was first announced, you know, the mass dismissals, that was when the order came from Moscow. It was sent to Lieutenant General Derevyanko himself, ordering the Mission to gain the confidence of Shimoyama, by any means possible. The suggestion from Moscow was that the best way to do this would be to supply Shimoyama with confidential information, thus gaining his trust…

  On the back seat of the parked car, in the trapped, damp air of the car, Harry Sweeney reached inside his jacket, took out his notebook and pencil, opened his notebook, then, writing in his notebook, asked, You’re saying Derevyanko was in charge of this operation, in direct charge, personally?

  No, said Lee Jung-Hwan. Not personally, no. There’s a man called Rosenoff, he’s in charge of all covert operations at the Soviet Mission in Tokyo. But, of course, he reports to Lieutenant General Derevyanko, as well as to Moscow.

  So this man Rosenoff ran the operation?

  Yes, said Lee Jung-Hwan. But soon after, Moscow sent a man named Ariyoshi for the specific purpose of handling Mister Shimoyama. He was in day-to-day charge of the operation, reporting to Rosenoff and Moscow.

  You ever see this man?

  Yes, said Lee Jung-Hwan.

  Describe him –

  About the same age as me, I guess, early thirties. His features might be mistaken for Chinese, but I think he’s Japanese. Long face, thick lips, fairly heavyset, about two hundred pounds, I suppose, about five and a half feet, maybe a bit taller.

  Harry Sweeney turned the page of his notebook, still writing as he said, Go on –

  So Ariyoshi had this guy inside the union, the National Railways Union. This guy is a Communist, but a secret one, and so Ariyoshi gets this guy to make contact with Shimoyama, to start feeding him confidential reports, some of them true but most of them not. Meanwhile – and this is the bit your CIC are not going to like…

  Go on –

  There’s this member of the Kudan CIC, he’s also a member of the Communist Party of America. Simultaneously, this guy also approaches Shimoyama, requests Shimoyama start supplying him with any confidential information he receives from inside the union – you get it?

  Harry Sweeney stopped writing, looked up from the pages of his notebook, looked out through the windshield again, out into the grays and the rusts and the browns again, the grays and the rusts and the browns turning, turning and spinning, and Harry Sweeney nodded and said, Yep.

  They got Shimoyama going in circles, said Lee Jung-Hwan. Thinking he’s passing on union plans, Communist secrets, passing them on to CIC, on to your lot, CIC supposedly checking them, your lot supposedly thanking him. But all the time, day by day, they’re setting him up.

  In the trapped, damp air of the car, Harry Sweeney blinked and rubbed his eyes, squeezed the bridge of his nose, then looked back down at his notebook and began to write again, as he said, For the fifth of July –

  Yes, said Lee Jung-Hwan, quietly, slowly. Late June, the order came from Moscow, the order to terminate Mister Shimoyama and, specifically, to terminate Mister Shimoyama in a manner that would cause the utmost confusion, creating huge problems for both the Japanese government and GHQ, anticipating an extreme reaction against the Japanese Communist Party and the trade union movement, which would, in turn, lead the Communists and the unions to finally embrace the necessity of violent struggle and revolution, fighting back as the vanguard of an uprising by the Japanese proletariat.

  Harry Sweeney stopped writing, looked up from the pages of his notebook again, out into the grays and the rusts and the browns again, staring into the grays and the rusts and the browns again as he said, All beginning with the abduction and assassination of President Shimoyama.

  Yep, said Lee Jung-Hwan.

  In the middle of nowhere, on the back seat of the parked car, Harry Sweeney turned sharply, spun from the grays and the rusts and the browns to the blacks and the purples and the reds of the remains of the face of this man, turned to this beaten and bloody, bowed and broken man and said, An abduction and assassination you were a fucking part of –

  No, said Lee Jung-Hwan. No, no! I just saw the communications, just encoding or decoding them.

  Not what your brother says –

  He’s got nothing to do with this, said Lee Jung-Hwan. Nothing to do with any of this –

  So why’d you bring him into it then? Why’d you get him to steal that car for you?

  I didn’t, he didn’t, said Lee Jung-Hwan, looking at Harry Sweeney, pleading with Harry Sweeney, then turning to the window of the door, looking out at Akira Senju and his men. I don’t know what car they’re talking about, what car you’re talking about, please –

  Outside Mitsukoshi?

  Please, said Lee Jung-Hwan, turning back to Harry Sweeney, shaking his head at Harry Sweeney, his beaten and bloody head. It’s all a mistake, he’s made a mistake. Please just let me see him, let me to talk to him…

  Okay, calm down, said Harry Sweeney. You just calm down. I’ll be back in a minute –

  And Harry Sweeney got out of the back of the car, walked round the back of the car, back toward the warehouse, the shadows of the warehouse, the smile of Akira Senju –

  Quite a story, eh, Harry, said Akira Senju. Quite a story he tells, yeah? I trust you’re impressed, Harry-san?

  Where you got his brother?

  Impressed and grateful, I hope, Harry…

  In the shadows of the warehouse, before its open doors, Harry Sweeney stared at Akira Senju and said, I asked you where the brother is? I need to talk to him.

  Well now, Harry, that might be a little difficult.

  You’re fucking joking?

  That’s exactly what I said, Harry, said Akira Senju, when the boys told me what happened. I said, You’re fucking joking, boys? What kind of fool throws himself from the back of a moving truck into the river, the Sumida River, when his hands are tied? What kind of fool does that? I mean, I know the kid was a chonko, but you’re fucking joking, right?

  In the shadows of the warehouse, before its open doors, among the grays and the rusts and the browns, all stained black against the same, Harry Sweeney turned to look back at the parked car, at the face at the side window of the parked car, the remains of a face staring up, out at Harry Sweeney –

  You want to tell him, Harry, or shall I?

  In this place that was nowhere, in the middle of this nowhere, with its stench of salt, with its stench of shit, Harry Sweeney turned back to Akira Senju, and Harry Sweeney looked at Akira Senju, and Harry Sweeney clenched his teeth, then said through his teeth, his clenched teeth, Harry Sweeney said, Nobody’s going to tell him
anything. I’m going to take him back to Public Safety, and you’re going to drive us.

  Sure thing, Harry. You’re the boss.

  * * *

  —

  In the NYK building, on the fourth floor, in Room 402, the office of Colonel Pullman, before the Colonel seated behind his desk, sat beside Chief Evans, Bill Betz, and Susumu Toda, Harry Sweeney nodded, looked back down at the statement, and began to read aloud: On the morning of the fifth, President Shimoyama arrived in his car at the south entrance of the Mitsukoshi department store and then proceeded on foot to the north entrance, where Ariyoshi, Oyama, Kinoshita, and Chin were waiting in two black sedans. I think they were cars Nine and Ten – a black Chevrolet and a black Buick – belonging to the Soviet Mission. The plates had been made specially for this purpose, and one was 1A2637, but I do not recall the other. Ariyoshi and Oyama guided President Shimoyama into the first car, seating him between them. The cars proceeded through Ginza and Shimbashi to a property in the Azabu area, close to the Soviet Embassy, occupied by Russian personnel. Before approaching the property, Oyama struck President Shimoyama in the vital organs, using a karate technique, knocking him unconscious. Once inside the property, President Shimoyama was murdered through an injection in his right arm. Immediately following confirmation of his death, his body was stripped and placed in the bathtub, and a blood vessel on his right arm was cut to drain the blood. His body was then put in a rubber bag and placed in the garage to the side of the property. In order to confuse the investigating authorities, an individual with similar features to President Shimoyama was employed as a decoy. The man’s name is Nakamura, and he is approximately the same height as President Shimoyama. I do not know where this man lives, but I believe it is in the Kansai area. He comes to Tokyo at least once a week and meets with two men called Tokuda and Nosaka. At the property in Azabu, he was given the clothes which President Shimoyama had been wearing and was then sent to the area where the body was later found. About 9 p.m., the body of President Shimoyama was placed in the trunk of one of the original cars and then driven toward the scene of the incident, first stopping at an unknown location, but arriving at the scene of the incident at approximately 10:30 p.m. The car stopped under the railroad tracks of the Jōban line, near to Kosuge Prison. Here the man called Nakamura arrived in order to change clothes so that the body could be dressed. After this was done, Nakamura left the scene in the car. The body was then placed on a portable cart and taken to the place where it was to be found later. The body was positioned so that the arm which had had the injection was placed on the rail. As soon as this was done, three members left the scene with the cart. Three other members remained in the vicinity until they had seen the train run over President Shimoyama’s body. Those that were at the scene were Ariyoshi, Oyama, Kinoshita, Chin, a Russian, and a Ukrainian. Those that remained at the scene were Ariyoshi, the Russian, and the Ukrainian. In order that the car would not be stopped in transit, all those other than the Russian wore American uniforms and carried falsified CIC credentials. A car returned to pick up the last three at an agreed time and place, but I do not know where and when that was. I have described the men I have named – ARIYOSHI, OYAMA, KINOSHITA, & CHIN – on the separate, attached page, and I have told you all I know. Signed, Andorushin, R.J.K.C. 125 (name and number used in Soviet Mission); real or birth name, Lee Jung-Hwan.

  Harry Sweeney stopped reading, looked up from the statement, and waited, the sound of the clock ticking on the wall, and waited, the sound of minutes passing, until –

  Well, that is some story, Harry, said Colonel Pullman. Quite the story. What d’you say, Chief?

  I don’t know, sir, said Chief Evans, shaking his head. So I say we pass this up the chain, sir, to the General, sir.

  Really, said the Colonel. To General Willoughby?

  If you’re asking me, sir, yes, said the Chief. I mean, this isn’t a Public Safety matter, sir, this is CIC.

  Really, said Colonel Pullman again, sitting forward at his desk, looking across the desk, first at Bill Betz, then at Susumu Toda, then at Harry Sweeney, asking, How about the rest of you? Any of you believe it?

  Bill Betz nodded: I know it all sounds kind of far-fetched, sir – draining the blood, using a decoy – like something from the movies, sir, but it also kind of fits.

  You think so, laughed Susumu Toda, turning to look at Bill Betz. Fits with no evidence, is the only way it fits.

  Hey, you were the one going on about the stolen car, about all them sightings of big, black cars…

  On different roads, said Toda. At different times.

  Bill Betz shook his head: So what if some of the details don’t quite match up? Maybe a witness gets the wrong time, the wrong street – it happens, and you know it happens. Or maybe what these Commies wrote in their report to Moscow ain’t quite how it was, or maybe Mister Code-Clerk ain’t remembering it right? Got himself confused in the telling – so what?

  So what, said Toda. He could be a compulsive liar, a complete fantasist, is what he could be.

  Bill Betz shook his head: So like the Chief says, we let CIC work it out, what his story is. Not our problem.

  Harry, said Colonel Pullman. He’s your baby, son. You brought him into the world. What do you say?

  Harry Sweeney shrugged: I’m sorry, sir, but I agree with everyone, everything they’re saying. I mean, we got no real evidence, no proof, as Susumu says. But like Bill says, bits of it, they sound like they might make some sense. So I’m with the Chief, sir, I’d let the General and CIC sort it out, sir.

  Really, said Colonel Pullman, getting up from his chair, coming round from behind his desk, taking the statement from Harry Sweeney, looking down at the statement by Lee Jung-Hwan, and shaking his head. Really…

  Chief Evans, Bill Betz, Susumu Toda, and Harry Sweeney looking up at the Colonel, waiting, the sound of the clock ticking on the wall, waiting, the sound of minutes passing, more minutes passing, until –

  See, the difference between you all and me, said the Colonel, is you all are civilians and I’m a soldier. An old soldier, but still a soldier. And see, I can’t decide if this story here is horseshit or gospel. I just can’t tell, I just don’t know. But what I do know, what I can tell you, is that if I pass this on up the chain, like you all are so keen I do, if I give this to General Willoughby, then we’ll be goddamned lucky if we all ain’t fighting World War fucking III by sundown.

  Chief Evans started to stand up, to say, I’m sorry, sir. We can just set it to one side, forget we…

  Hold on there, Chief, said the Colonel. That’s not what I’m saying, not saying that at all. I just want to be certain, when I do pass this on up the chain, when the General does start calling for Soviet heads, demanding Commie blood, I just want to be certain it ain’t horseshit we’re feeding him.

  Chief Evans nodded: Of course, sir. Absolutely, sir. You want evidence, sir, of course, sir.

  Evidence and discretion, said the Colonel. That’s what I want, Chief. So I’m going to hang on to this here statement, and I’m going to make some calls, some discreet calls, see if I can find any record of any of these here names. Meanwhile, you men are going to go back through the police reports, the witness statements, and see if you can find any descriptions which might match either the men or the cars mentioned in this statement.

  Chief Evans nodded again: And if we do, sir?

  Hell, then you go goddamn interview them, is what you do, Chief. Is that understood? Are we all clear?

  Yes, sir, barked Chief Evans, Bill Betz, Susumu Toda, and Harry Sweeney. Understood and clear, sir.

  Very good then, said the Colonel –

  Harry Sweeney said, Sir…?

  What is it, son, asked the Colonel.

  Harry Sweeney asked, And if you don’t, if we don’t? Don’t find any record, don’t find any corroboration? Then what, sir? What we going to do with him?

/>   Then he’s not our problem, son, said the Colonel. Then we let him go, or we turn him over to the Japanese police, let him take his chances with them. Either way, he’s not our problem. That clear, son? Understood?

  Yes, sir, understood, sir.

  Very good then, said the Colonel again. Dismissed!

  * * *

  —

  I don’t know, said Kazuko Kawada, sat at the table by the door, in the empty Coffee Shop Hong Kong, the customers gone, the shop closed, the manager and the waiter and the cook at the next table, waiting to be allowed home, wanting to go home, glancing at Harry Sweeney and Kazu-chan, listening to Kazu-chan say again, But I don’t think so. I’m sorry.

  Harry Sweeney looked down at the descriptions of the four men and the decoy which Lee Jung-Hwan had given in his statement, then Harry Sweeney looked back up at this pretty girl, still in her black dress and white apron, and Harry Sweeney said, But you still think the man you saw that morning, you still think that man could have been President Shimoyama?

  I think so, yes, said Kazuko Kawada. Because of his Harold Lloyd-style glasses, because of the way his eyebrows sloped downwards. I think it might’ve been, yes.

  Harry Sweeney nodded, tapped the paper on the table, the statement by Lee Jung-Hwan, and said again, But you really don’t think these descriptions match either the man who was sitting with President Shimoyama or any of the men who were sat at the table across the aisle that morning?

  I’m sorry, said Kazuko Kawada again. The men you’ve described, they’re all much younger.

  Harry Sweeney nodded again, then lowered his voice as he said, And the man who used the telephone that morning, you still can’t remember what –

  No, said Kazuko Kawada, her head shaking, her eyes blinking. No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ve tried, but I can’t.

  Harry Sweeney reached out across the table to touch her hand, to pat her hand: That’s okay, that’s okay.