Hidden Nexus (23 page)

‘I neither understand nor condone any secrecy. I’m here to find out what happened to Yamada san and I don’t care who I trample across to get it.’

‘You might regret that statement later.’

‘Are you threatening me?’

‘No, no – not me, but it is wise not to make enemies as we walk.’

‘That's as maybe, but, okay – tell me what you can. Let me worry about what is wise and what is not.’

Ozawa paused for a moment and rearranged a few items on his desk. ‘I understand Yamada san left here at about five in order to meet up with me in Shinbashi. I met her outside Shinbashi station at about six fifteen. I went there by company limo.’

‘So you didn’t go together.’

‘No. I had some other business to attend to before that which didn’t involve Yamada san.’

‘And how did she appear when you met? Did she appear normal?’

Ozawa thought about this for a second, although Mori suspected this was purely a delaying tactic. ‘She seemed fine – quite normal. So anyway we attended the meeting. It began about six thirty and I’d say we were all through by seven thirty. I left her at that time and my understanding was that she returned by train back home. It was the last I saw of her.’

‘So why have your staff been so keen to impress on us that she left
here
at seven thirty.’

‘Like I said it’s sensitive, but from what I have read she was murdered in Kamioka. I had no reason to connect our meeting with that event and so saw no reason to gratuitously expose it to scrutiny.’

‘That’s for me to decide.’

‘Quite so, but nonetheless it’s also my job to protect my interests and those of my company and its clients.’

For a few seconds the two men held each other in each other’s gaze.

‘That’s all I know.’ Ozawa laid his hands flat on the table.

‘Don’t you mean, that’s all you want to say – there’s a difference!’

‘Have it your own way.’ Ozawa sniffed.

‘You don’t want to add anything else?’

‘There isn’t anything else.’

‘You’re lying, of course.’

‘Lying?’

‘We know for a fact that someone had sex with Yamada san that day and from what your staff tell us she didn’t leave her office at all, all day, and from what I have seen it seems highly unlikely that she had someone in that small room secreted away for her sexual gratification.’

An uncomfortable silence fell across the room. It was if their conversation had reached an impasse.

‘That would be me.’ Ozawa spoke in a steady voice.

‘You! When?’

‘After the meeting – in my limousine. It was a celebration – of sorts.’

‘Go on.’

‘There is nothing much else to say. I don’t suppose you need the details of our love-making. After we had, er... We went our separate ways. It was the last I saw of her.’

‘And so what time was that?’

‘Like I said it was seven-thirty.’

‘And there’s nothing else you want to add?’

‘No.’

Another silence fell between them. Ozawa unscrewed the top of a whiskey bottle that was on his desk and poured himself a measure. He didn’t offer one to Mori. He took a sip of his drink and then sat back in his chair. He had the look of a confident, self-satisfied man despite the questioning he was being subjected to.

‘Were you having an affair?’ Mori leant forward still mindful of the jealous husband motive.

‘No. That was our one and only time.’ He looked down at his hands and for a second his face was momentarily filled with sadness – only momentarily. He soon replaced his mask of implacability.

‘I’m still not convinced of the reason for all the subterfuge. Sounds like you wanted to protect your honour, not someone else’s.’

Ozawa pulled a wry smile. ‘I suppose it could look like that. You just have to believe me that it wasn’t for my benefit.’

‘Just for the record where were you between eight and nine o’clock?’

‘I was at home.’

‘Alone?’

‘No. I was with my father.’

‘He lives with you?’

‘Yes. Yes he does. It’s just me and him. I never married.’

Mori thought for a second, ‘You won’t mind if I take a DNA swab.’ he eventually added.

‘Am I a suspect, then?’

‘You were one of the last people who was with her – assuming that what you say is accurate, but no, the swab is purely for elimination purposes.’

Ozawa reluctantly picked up the flat wooden stick that Mori had slid over to him and scraped the inside of his cheek. He passed it back to Mori who carefully sealed it within a narrow capsule.

‘Thank you.’

Ozawa said nothing.

‘I think that will be all for now. We will of course be checking up on what you have told us. And you are quite sure you have nothing further to add. You know of no one who would want to murder Yamada Eri?’

Ozawa appeared to consider this for a moment or two. ‘Quite sure! As I am quite sure that you’ll find that her death had nothing to do with either me or my company. You’re wasting my time as well as your own.’

Once again Mori was amazed at the man’s complete lack of emotion or concern over the death of his former colleague. Something kept telling him that this wasn’t right. There was being detached and focussed and then there was this man. Something was wrong but he didn’t know what.

He exited the room to meet up with
Junsa
Saito and together they set off back to head-quarters and their meet-up with Inspector Saito.

It was only after the detectives had left that Ozawa finally came to recognise that events were moving faster than he was able to control. He fully regretted having to relinquish a DNA sample. He wondered how long it would take for that chicken to come home to roost.

Monday 3rd January 4:00pm

Inspector Saito sat uncomfortably at the back of the conference hall wondering whether or not it had been a huge mistake to attend the YBP Shareholder’s meeting. It all appeared to have been an enormous waste of time - and time was something he simply didn't have.

It had taken him a devil of a time to locate the building, not least as he’d left the precise address scribbled on his note pad in the office and so consequently he’d spent a frustrating time walking round in circles in what was a particularly uninviting area of town. Eventually he’d located the place, a good two blocks down from where he thought it should have been, only to be barred at the entrance by a pair of burley bouncers keen to have only ‘invited guests’ pass by them. A heated argument ensued, for some reason they were unimpressed with his officer’s badge, until finally one of the men relented and allowed Saito to sit at the back – provided that was all he did.

One hour in and Saito was coming to wish that the bouncers had enforced their will. He’d found the whole set up to be interminably dull and excruciatingly long-winded and dominated by solemn-faced men with deep, monotone voices. To keep himself awake he scanned the individuals within the hall and estimated that there must have been approximately a hundred people – predominately men who mirrored the complexion and countenance of those on the main platform. To all intents and purposes it appeared to be a fairly innocuous group – a group who nonetheless sat forward in their seats apparently hanging onto every word that was being spoken, perhaps not surprisingly as they had a vested interest, after all. In all fairness it was to be expected. In all fairness if he were a shareholder it was what he would probably be interested to hear.

So far he had sat through a detailed explanation of the company’s accounts, had noted without emotion that the bottom line had slipped since the previous year and that the company’s gearing, the degree to which it was dependent on loans, had notched up a touch. Then there were various reports from the subsidiaries, of which there were numerous, ranging from a paper mill company and cardboard box makers to a plastic moulding company. It appeared that YBP was both vertically and horizontally diversified to a point that began to stretch belief.

He carried on waiting patiently, for what he knew not, and hoped that when the Deputy Chief Executive came to speak he would have something to say, perhaps about his predecessor, perhaps about the merger and in the meantime read through the glossy shareholders report for a hundredth time attempting to determine how much of the blurb was company spin and how much was genuine achievement. Obviously the report was out of date and the serious, unsmiling face of Noboru Nakasone was prevalent throughout.

When the time came for the Deputy Chief Exec to make his speech Saito stirred himself and prepared to pay a little more studied attention. He needn’t have bothered and was left with vague disappointment clouding his mind. There were of course a few remarks about the unfortunate death of Nakasone, a series of practical points about how the company would operate
inter regnum
until new and suitable premises could be procured, a whole barrel-load of pledges to carry on the work of the late leader in particular and the ethos of YBP in general. The one noteworthy point of interest was that he did mention Niigata Kyubin and that he did seem to offer the possibility of re-kindling the merger talks between the two. To Saito’s understanding that was a deal that was no-longer on the table, one unequivocally rejected by Nakasone, so he felt that this was a significant concession and one that seemingly contradicted the promise to carry on the work of Nakasone and the ethos of YPB – not that it was for him to harp on at the apparent contradictions. Aside from this slither of information nothing much was said. There was no talk of aggressive expansion, no talk of bold strategy or retaliation. Perhaps he had misjudged the nature of shareholder meetings. He had expected a little more cut and thrust. He’d expected questions from the floor with management put under pressure to justify their approach. He hadn’t expected this carefully managed production. Perhaps he should have known better. If he was a betting man however, he didn’t think much of the future for YBP. He wasn’t enamoured with the new man. He hadn’t met Nakasone, to be fair, but from what he could see on the platform in front of him, he was not looking at a great leader of men or an inspirational strategist.

The meeting broke up just before six but Saito hung back still hoping that some innocent chit-chat might reveal a tit-bit or two. He kept his eye on the Deputy who after some initial talk with his companions on the podium came down into the belly of the hall and surprisingly made a bee-line in Saito’s direction stopping short to greet a man to Saito’s left. Saito quickly clocked the man – he was cocksure, tanned and casually dressed and looked out of place amongst the more serious-looking shareholders.

‘How was that?’ asked the Deputy in subdued tones.

‘Fine,’ replied the man gruffly. ‘You kept your word so we kept ours.’

‘I was expecting the other man-’

‘He couldn’t make it.’

‘Yes, well. I’m just pleased everything went smoothly.’

‘There is honour amongst thieves, you know! And the-’

‘We’ve set up an account, don’t worry.’

‘I don’t think we are the ones that need to worry, are we?’

‘No, no – I suppose not. And the other man - will he be coming back?’

‘Perhaps – that’s for us to decide.’ The second man then grabbed the Deputy by the shoulder in a gesture of mock reassurance. It was only then that Saito noticed the unmistakeable ‘signature’ of the stunted little finger.

There were moments when it was best not to have eye-contact. There were moments when a look of understanding was best not transmitted.

It was only a second – less than that even, that Saito’s eyes met those of the man that the Deputy had been speaking to.

Both had understanding in their eyes.