Death Sentences (6 page)

There were six rooms to a floor.

Three of the six were occupied.

An ear to the door gave a pretty good idea of what was going on in there.

In two of the rooms they were clearly doing it.

One room was oddly quiet. Number 302.

The sound of the television indicated that someone was in there.

(Here goes nothing!)

The room key gave him a good sense of the hotel system.

The doors had cheap automatic locks.

Steeling his nerves, Sakamoto slid an appropriate master key into the lock.

A couple of twists and the lock popped open.

He bolted in.

In a single motion, as he pulled the gun from his jacket, he shut the door behind him.

A middle-aged man sat on the bed watching TV, necktie loosened, suit coat thrown aside.

It was Sagara.

Caught unawares, he sat there bewildered, mouth open.

As soon as he saw what was in Sakamoto's hand, he threw back his head.

"Sachi!"

A shrill cry escaped his mouth.

"Don't move!"

Sakamoto strode over to the bed.

He took him by the collar and pinned him to the bed.

"We know everything. Better cooperate!"

"Who are you? What the hell is this?!"

Sakamoto replied with the back of his hand, knocking Sagara flat.

Sagara screamed and rolled around on the double bed. Blood gushed from his split lip.

Sakamoto quickly switched the gun to his left hand and with his right pulled out his pale-green badge.

He stuck it in Sagara's face.

Sagara groaned. Then he bared his teeth, yellowed with tobacco. He wasn't giving up. He started shouting back.

"What the hell?! What the hell do you think you're doing?! I haven't done anything. I'm just here with a woman. . ."

Sakamoto slapped him hard across the other cheek. Sagara went on rolling around on the bed.

"I asked you to cooperate. When I want you to talk, I'll ask. Get it?"

"Hey, this isn't funny. I got my-"

Sakamoto gave him another punch as soon as he spoke. With a yelp, Sagara fell back on the bed, face in his hands. He kept his mouth shut, though.

"Good. That's better. Now, don't move."

Sakamoto slowly transferred the gun to his right hand.

He had a compact automatic, a Browning .380. The short muzzle was threaded to mount a silencer.

Its simple mechanism meant there was no risk of jamming, even with the silencer.

The gun was not actually loaded. It worked to make people think twice, though.

Because of its design, you couldn't tell by looking at it if it was loaded or not.

Most Japanese didn't know anything about guns, anyway. The sight of one was enough to stop them dead in their tracks.

So you didn't even have to use it. Just wearing one had quite an effect. Every cop was now packing something. And they could use it however they wanted.

"Where's the woman?" Sakamoto asked, looking around the room.

"What woman?"

Sagara bobbed his head stupidly.

Sakamoto asked again, "Where is Miura Sachiko?"

Sakamoto knew without asking that there was only one place she could be. He'd already noticed Sagara's eyes darting anxiously toward the bathroom.

"Miura? I don't know! Never heard the name. This is some woman I just picked up. I didn't ask her name. She's some whore. What do I care who she is?"

Lies poured out of him.

Sakamoto said, "That's a shitty way to talk about someone you've paid good money to keep quiet."

Surprise showed on Sagara's face.

"Wait! Just wait!"

Ignoring him, Sakamoto grasped the handle of the bathroom door.

He twisted the knob and kicked open the door.

There she was, Miura Sachiko.

She had probably just gotten out of the shower.

She'd pulled on some clothes without drying.

The thin blouse clung to her breasts, showing her nipples.

She stood there shivering, clutching her bag.

"Out there."

Sakamoto gestured with his gun.

Miura Sachiko started cursing at him.

"Who the hell are you?! I warn you, I'll really scream."

The corner of Sakamoto's mouth twisted slightly, but he spoke calmly.

"Go on, scream all you want. But it'll be the end for both of you."

"What does that mean? You plan to kill us?"

Sakamoto shook his head.

"Our policemen have the place surrounded. If they hear something, they'll come running. If that happens, I'm not going to be able to hold them back. You get my meaning?"

Sagara opened his mouth to speak.

But Miura Sachiko cut him off with a shrill voice.

"How would we know? We're not doing anything, so cut the crap!"

The television, still on, emitted a series of ecstatic moans.

Porn videos were running on the hotel cable channel.

"Listen here."

Sakamoto lowered his voice.

"We're after the stuff, not you. Cooperate with us, and I'll do everything I can to get you off. Think about it! This is it! My job is to get the stuff. Anyone buying or selling it, we take them to the station. But I don't need any scores. Get my drift? Now, if the whole squad finds you here, nothing much I can do. Some of the boys are pretty tough. Some of the young ones are just itching to take over for me. I just want you to know that there's not much hope for you if they come up here."

"That's crap!"

She railed back.

"You're full of crap. I know your game. But it won't work with me. Stuff? Give me a break. And just where is it? Huh? I'd like to see it."

(Damn!)

Sakamoto clucked his tongue.

Maybe he had rushed it. Maybe they weren't ready yet for the transaction.

And yet, if that were the case, why all the secrecy, why go to such lengths?

Could this really just be about sex?

The afflicted tended to lose all sex drive, though. It was unlikely that Miura Sachiko was after that.

So this had to be about something else.

"Out there!"

Sakamoto gestured again with his gun.

Miura Sachiko complied, but very reluctantly.

She went into the bedroom clutching her bag.

Her panties and stockings lay on the bathroom floor where she'd dropped them. She hadn't had time to put them back on.

Sakamoto tried to figure things out.

What had she been doing in the bathroom?

Was she freshening up for a romp in bed? Maybe she just felt like a bath?

He leaned over to examine the panties and stockings. Nothing unusual. He just got a good whiff of her.

She hadn't dropped anything else.

Chewing his lower lip, Sakamoto entered the bedroom.

4

Miura Sachiko's coat hung from a hook.

He rifled through the pockets. He turned up a handkerchief.

"Hand it over."

Sakamoto wrenched the purse from her hands. She made no effort to resist.

He opened the bag and dumped the contents on the floor.

Not a peep out of her.

Most of the stuff was cosmetics. There was a wallet and a passport. She must have just gotten the passport, not a mark in it. He found the wallet stuffed with bills. All of them were big bills, fifties and hundreds.

No doubt about it. She was planning to fly the coop. But he hadn't found what he was looking for. Only one key in her key holder, probably for her apartment.

Sakamoto tossed the bag aside.

Miura Sachiko sneered at him.

She looked certain of herself. This didn't sit well with him.

Sakamoto issued a command.

"You, Sagara. Off with the clothes. Shoes, too. Toss me the jacket."

Sagara cast a couple of glances at the woman, as if uncertain. She didn't bat an eye.

Sagara handed the jacket over with a sigh. He started pulling off his pants.

A plane ticket turned up in the pocket of his jacket. Singapore Airways bound for Hong Kong. Departure, tomorrow. Passenger's name, Miura Sachiko.

"I take it this was part of your deal."

With these words, Sakamoto ripped the ticket in half. Then he tore it to shreds.

That got a rise out of her.

She screamed at him.

"What the hell, you creep! You don't get it, do you? Whatever you're looking for, we don't have it. Leave us the hell out of it!"

She suddenly started ripping off her skirt and blouse.

"Here you go! Do what you want! Why don't you rip up these, too? You're really getting off on having us naked, aren't you? Pervert! Think I'm hiding something?"

She wasn't wearing a thing underneath. Her body was still wet. The thick tuft of pubic hair looked at odds with her youthful body. That was the only sign of her age.

She hurled the bundle of clothes at Sakamoto.

It suddenly occurred to him that she was trying to draw attention away from Sagara.

Sagara still wore a shirt, underwear, and socks.

Maybe Sagara was hiding something, and she'd stripped, thinking her body would distract Sakamoto.

Even so, that would only buy her a couple of minutes.

In any case, Sakamoto was planning on stripping Sagara and checking inside his anus. Good place to stuff-

(That wasn't it!)

Sakamoto had a burst of inspiration.

She had something else in mind. She was trying to draw attention away from herself.

Stripping naked was intended to make him think she wasn't hiding anything-

Tramping over her clothes, Sakamoto went right over to Sagara.

He jammed the gun in his pocket, stripped a belt out of one of the hotel bathrobes, and tied up Sagara with it.

Caught by surprise, Sagara didn't protest. He let himself be tied up and thrown onto the bed.

Miura Sachiko screamed instead.

"You creep! You're some kind of pervert!"

Sakamoto went for her now.

He wrenched an arm behind her back.

She doubled over in pain and fell to the floor.

"Cut it out! You're breaking it! My arm-"

She spread her legs as she struggled.

Sakamoto stuck his other hand between her legs.

He probed with his fingers.

"Stop it! No! You pervert!"

He probed deeper.

Pinning her down, he wriggled his fingers deeper.

Finally, he felt something.

(What the ... ?!)

Something soft and squishy.

Grunting like an animal, Sakamoto managed to pinch it between two fingers.

He tugged.

It slipped right out. It was a condom, slick and shiny. The end was tied off.

Something was in it.

Sakamoto leapt to his feet and tore open the condom.

A key fell to the floor with a clink.

There was a round tag on it, with 326 engraved on it.

Without warning-

Miura Sachiko grabbed him and started wailing.

"Give it back, please, please!"

Sakamoto knocked her to the bed with his shoulder. She fell on top of Sagara.

He held up the key and spoke evenly.

"So it's in a coin locker. Not a bad place to hide it."

Sachiko burst into tears. Probably just an act.

"So where is it?" he asked. "Where's the locker?"

"I'd never tell you!"

"Have it your way. We'll find it easy enough."

She looked up at him.

"Okay, then, what the hell. The locker is in the underground at Shinjuku station, by the west exit."

She glared defiantly at him, and her laugher rang with confidence.

"You see, it doesn't matter how hard you try to track down every copy. We'll just go on making them. It's all up here now."

With these words, she pointed at her head.

She threw back her head defiantly and burst into laughter.

Sakamoto nodded.

"We know that. Yeah, we know all about that. That's why we eradicate it at the source."

Sakamoto calmly pulled the Browning out of his pocket. He extracted a silencer from the other and began screwing it onto the muzzle.

At first Miura Sachiko watched with disbelief, and then her eyes went wide.

". . . shit, you're full

"No shit," he said, shaking his head. He loaded the slugs. "This is the real thing."

He raised the Browning, aimed square at her forehead, and squeezed the trigger.

With a sound no louder than a cough, the g mm ball blasted from the gun.

Eyes wide open, Miura Sachiko slumped to the floor, dead in a second.

Sagara started to protest in a tremulous voice.

"Wait. Hold on just a second. I don't know anything. You see? I just needed cash. I never read it. Never! I didn't read any of it. It's got nothing to do with me. I don't know a thing. I didn't even look at it! You got to believe me. It's the truth."

Hands tied behind him, he fell off the bed trying to wriggle away.

He kept whining.

"See? You got to help me! It's got nothing to do with me, I swear. I'm begging you. She tricked me into this. She wanted money from me. You got to understand. I beg you-"

The Browning coughed again.

Red blood trickled from the small hole in his temple.

Sakamoto untied the belt around his wrists. He removed the silencer and slipped it back into his pocket. He placed the gun in Sagara's hand.

That's how it had to be.

There was no other way to prevent the destruction of the world.

Sakamoto stood over the two, looked down, and joined his hands in prayer for a moment.

He'd made it look like a lovers' suicide.

The police would take care of the rest.

He took the elevator to the first floor.

Looking flustered, a woman called to Sakamoto from the window.

"Leaving so soon? Is there something wrong?"

"No, no, nothing wrong. People on the third floor were making so much noise that it sort of turned me off."

"I'm really sorry. Please accept my apologies. The third floor? I'll make it half price for you."

Sakamoto paid and left the hotel.

The Corolla was waiting for him around the corner.

The passenger door opened, and Sakamoto climbed in.

"Shinjuku station, west exit."

The Corolla moved out.