The Drowning God (11 page)

 

CHAPTER 21

T
he prefectural police department faced north, toward the sea. It had been built in the exhilarating years between the Tokyo Olympics and the Osaka Expo, when all of Japan had been looking toward the bright future overseas, toward Japan taking her rightful place in the family of nations. Of course such an imposing new building would face the sea.

The bright future never materialized in that prefecture. The prefecture lay in the
san-­in
, the mountain shadow, so while the rest of Japan faced the bright future, the dark valleys held secrets that would always drag the prefecture backward.

From the walkway to the entrance, Takuda could see the window-­sitters, five useless detectives who sat far from the action in the heart of the office. They showed up every day, even on this sunny Saturday morning. They would continue the formality of showing up until they could collect their pensions. This morning, one of the window-­sitters was trimming his toenails with his foot on the sill.

Takuda sprang up the stairs. That window-­sitter would go, and another would take his place. Takuda pressed the elevator button. The “3” was almost worn away.
Why think about the window-­sitters, of all ­people? Why today?
There were bigger things at stake.

Takuda realized why window-­sitters came to mind when the elevator doors opened and he walked down the familiar beige-­and-­gray hallway. In his own way, he had become worse than a window-­sitter.
At least window-­sitters never make any trouble.

Takuda exchanged the usual nods and grunts with the other detectives, but the office mood was anything but usual. Even with his deadened senses, Takuda could feel the chill.

Superintendent Yamada was not at his desk. The conference room door was closed.

Takuda didn't even have to look at the conference room schedule. He went in. As expected, his boss, Superintendent Yamada, sat at the head of the table. Chief Nakamura sat in the seat of honor, facing the door. At Nakamura's left sat Endo, the Zenkoku General counselor Takuda had met the night before.

Only Endo rose to return Takuda's bow. Takuda backed out for a moment to get his own chair.

Nakamura started talking as soon as Takuda sat. “Certain questions have arisen about the official . . .”

“This is not an official meeting.” The superintendent sat forward without a glance at Nakamura. “Chief Nakamura requested a meeting today, and he took it upon himself to bring an employee of Zenkoku General. Please, honored guests, let me first introduce one of our most decorated and experienced detectives.”

As they introduced themselves, Takuda studied Endo. The suit was worth a month of Takuda's salary, at least, but the man who wore it was brown and weathered. Even though his hands were hardened with practice, there were no broken knuckles, no scarring on the striking surfaces, and no swordsman's calluses between the thumbs and forefingers. The stranger sized up Takuda as well. His eyes revealed nothing, but a slight smile played at the edges of his lips as they exchanged business cards for the second time.

Nakamura cleared his throat and began again. “A tragedy of this level seems to speak of foul play, but experts who have viewed the site say it's entirely possible that this underwater cave trapped bodies from upstream, perhaps from the vicinity of Eagle Peak Temple, for hundreds of years. There's no telling where all these bones came from. Some of them are so old that they couldn't have been put there by anyone alive today.”

“Experts,” Yamada said.

“Yes. These experts say the first skulls they examined are more than five hundred years old. There's no telling how old this site is. The bones would have stayed in that cave forever had the detective and his friends not destroyed the shrine above it.”

On the table before Nakamura lay a crime-­scene map hastily sketched on graph paper. Asterisks appeared at the sides of the cavern and at the end farthest from the entrance.

Takuda pointed to Nakamura's map. “Officer Mori plotted a detailed crime-­scene map. It was very different from this one.”

Nakamura nodded. “We do what we can out in the country.”

“The officer also put crime-­scene flags on distinct remains, starting with the bones that appeared newest. He started at the top of the heap, in the center of the cave, then moved downward and outward.”

“He is very systematic,” Nakamura said. “However, such a system prevented us from getting to the lower levels of the crime scene.”

“Testing remains from the farthest reaches of the cavern ensures that you'll be testing the oldest remains first,” Takuda said.

“What's your point, Detective?”

“If you dig the older remains out from under the newer ones, the media attention will disappear. No one will even be thinking about the site when you get to the freshest remains.”

“That's nonsense.”

Endo cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, may I have a few words?”

All eyes turned to Endo.

“This is a matter of mutual concern. The Zenkoku family of companies has financial interests in the Naga River valley. However, we have deeper relationships to the land and to the ­people. As Japanese, all of us here today understand these deeper relationships.” He began to interweave his fingers: “Our ­people, our land, our faith, and our culture.” He ended with his hands clenched above the table. “These are all interconnected to make us strong, especially when we all work together for the common good.”

Yamada scratched his ear. He looked as if he might fall asleep.

Endo smiled and spread his hands on the conference table. “Chief Nakamura was kind enough to bring me here today precisely because we all wish to serve the common good. You wish to keep the peace. You wish to protect the ­people of this prefecture. We want to help in any way you choose. Because of our various holdings here in your prefecture, including the Zenkoku Fiber plant in the Naga River valley, we are part of the prefecture. Part of your larger family if you will. We also need your help and protection.”

Takuda sat forward. “Do you want us to come in and solve the water safety question? We could do that.”

“That's enough, Detective.” The superintendent regarded Takuda from under heavy eyelids.

“We could start with the canals and work our way down to the spillways and the runoff pond.”

Nakamura leapt to his feet. “That's preposterous! That's completely off-­limits! You could find yourself in huge trouble there, Detective!”

Endo tugged gently on the chief's sleeve. Nakamura collapsed into his chair without a word.

The superintendent was still looking at Takuda. He looked bored, but Takuda knew better. Finally, the superintendent sighed in resignation and sat forward. “Who am I talking to? Zenkoku General or Zenkoku Fiber?”

Endo bowed. “In this matter of our mutual concern, I am honored to represent the corporation as a whole.”

Yamada bowed without a trace of sarcasm. “So, does the corporation as a whole have any information for us?”

“Perhaps we can lend our support. It's not generally known, but we have holdings reaching far back into our country's medieval past, long before we were unified under the Zenkoku banner. We were still doing brisk business with the Vietnamese in Hoi An when the Dutch set up shop at Nagasaki, so you might call us the oldest continuously operating multinational corporation. Over time, we have developed specific methods of balancing progress against the preservation of important cultural assets.”

“What does that mean?”

Endo didn't smile. He could read the superintendent, too. “Japanese history is under our feet every day, gentlemen. Every time the Zenkoku family puts up a building or digs a tunnel, we find archaeological sites that must be preserved. We have partners at most major universities, both here and abroad. These men and women drop what they're doing when we find something interesting. They can quickly and easily evaluate most situations. That way, we can effectively help local governments make difficult decisions.”

“But it's a crime scene,” Takuda said.

“Actually, the head of the archaeological department at your own university here in the city has written a brief position paper on that very topic.”

He whisked it from his briefcase.

“He believes the remains are all more than seven hundred years old, not five hundred. That's older than much of the Zenkoku family itself, gentlemen, and we are quite old.”

Yamada was frighteningly still. “So you shipped in an academic to trespass on a crime scene.”

“The land belongs to Zenkoku Development. We have clear title since 1937, I believe. My presence could hardly be called trespassing, as I was invited to consult on this matter even before I ran into my old friend the regional director general. From what I was told, there was some doubt as to whether this was a crime scene at all.”

The superintendent turned to Nakamura. “So you pulled in your corporate friends to reclassify a crime scene as an archaeological site.”

Nakamura squirmed under his gaze. “Well, we don't have the resources to deal with this kind of thing, even to guard the site. We weren't sure what to do.”

“You could have left it to the prefecture.” Yamada's expression was blank.

“Left it to the prefecture? Your maniac detective here was trying to tie it all together. But it's preposterous! The skeletons in the cavern have nothing to do with the pervert Ogawa. The pervert Ogawa has nothing to do with the tragic drowning of the Zenkoku English teacher. Only the drowning is related to the water safety question, which has shown steady improvement since Zenkoku first came to our valley, I might add.”

The superintendent glanced at Takuda.

The chief puffed out his chest. He thought he was winning. “Your man Takuda has been driven insane by shame. He wants to tie all our problems together, but it's preposterous, isn't it? That would mean that the pervert Ogawa is a seven-­hundred-­year-­old killer who can slip out of his jail cell at will. At seven hundred, he would be too feeble for that, ha!” Nakamura straightened his tie and sat erect in his chair. “In my professional opinion, Detective Takuda is no longer fit for duty. He wants to make sense of the tragic events in his family's history. Unfortunately, misplaced blame cannot bring back his brother, his son, or his parents. He should put aside blame and face his own shame. He has failed his family, first as an older brother, then as a father, and finally as a son. Perhaps shame has driven him to failure as an officer of the law as well.”

Nakamura held his chin up, but his eyes shifted quickly from Yamada to Takuda to Endo.

The silence stretched on. Takuda had nothing to say. As far as his failures were concerned, Nakamura was right. He had failed his family in every possible way, and he fully intended to fail as an officer of the law. However, there was still work to do.

He spoke slowly into the silence. “Chief Nakamura, when Lee Hunt disappeared, and also when his body was found, you referred to him as a tourist. When I asked why he was in the Naga River valley, you said he was on holiday with his wife. Just now, you referred to him as a Zenkoku English teacher. Was he in the employ of Zenkoku? If so, why did you keep this information from us?”

 

CHAPTER 22

T
he blood drained from Nakamura's face. He sputtered to the superintendent: “The detective was out of control. I didn't tell him the foreigner was working for Zenkoku because I didn't remember—­I didn't have enough personnel to deal with the details.” He cut his eyes at Endo. Takuda couldn't tell if he was begging Endo for help or for forgiveness.

Endo's black eyes glittered. He relished Nakamura's squirming with some base pleasure beyond simple amusement.

The superintendent cleared his throat. “Can the Zenkoku General representative help us with this? What was the foreigner doing there?”

Endo tore his eyes away from the tortured police chief. “Ah. Yes, yes, of course. I may be able to assist here in several ways. Let me say at the outset that we at Zenkoku have no opinion on Detective Takuda's fitness for duty. If we did, we would communicate our concerns through the appropriate channels.” He smiled at Takuda with large, yellow teeth. “My superiors would see to it personally.”

Takuda bowed in acknowledgment. He did not look forward to the day when Endo's masters took an interest in his career.

Endo stood and buttoned his beautiful suit coat. “On behalf of the Zenkoku family of companies, I would like to clarify two misunderstandings. First, the foreigner was not a Zenkoku employee. He was an employee of ActiveUs, a teaching and testing firm that we retain for corporate training. He had just completed teaching the spring intensive English course for new employees. Like so many of us, he found Naga River valley charming, and he brought his pretty young wife along to enjoy it. Unfortunately, his Japanese skills were poor. He obviously misunderstood warnings about the cold, swift flow from the spring thaw.”

Takuda sat forward. “And what about his liver? What about his intestines?”

Endo bowed. “I regret my inability to make definitive statements about the individual internal organs of foreign workers.” He addressed the entire table. “At any rate, it should come as no surprise that this unfortunate accident victim had indirect ties to our corporate family. The Zenkoku companies and their various holdings employ only a tiny fraction of the population, not even four percent, but we eventually touch the lives of everyone in Japan.”

“I'm beginning to believe that,” Takuda said.

“The other point that requires clarification is the assumption that our academic friends could reclassify a crime scene as an archaeological site. That would take a court injunction.” He drew a large, official envelope from his briefcase. “It's unusual for someone like me, a simple salaried worker, to act as an officer of the court. However, the judge felt that urgent action was needed to preserve the archaeological integrity of the site. Copies have already been sent to your superiors, but they will want the original, of course.” He offered the envelope with a bow to the superintendent. “If you would, please accept this injunction to cease all activities in the cavern or the shrine above. The consequences of trespass on the site are listed here, with references to national and prefectural statutes on the protection of antiquities.”

“So, you're a corporate lawyer as well,” the superintendent said

“I have the great fortune to serve the Zenkoku family in multiple capacities.”

There was nothing more to be said. Endo bowed to Detective Takuda and Superintendent Yamada, and then he strolled out with Chief Nakamura following. Nakamura was grinning, and he turned to say something to Takuda, but a touch on the shoulder from Endo made him fall in line.

As the door swung shut, the superintendent turned to Takuda. “You disappear just when I need you on the ground in that valley. You stumble into a cave full of bones. Then I start getting the phone calls. Everyone except the prime minister has called me about this nasty business. Maybe he did. I haven't checked my messages for fifteen minutes now.”

“You told me to stay out of the way.”

“You're making a rotten mess of it. Your reports are perfect, but they don't say anything. I can't even tell ­people what you're doing because I don't know.”

“I'm not sure I do, either.”

“Okay, Detective, what do you know?”

“The suspect Ogawa was attempting to kidnap the Kawaguchi girl. He has been incarcerated too long to be involved in the drowning of Lee Hunt.”

A muscle jumped in the superintendent's jaw. “The foreigner whose intestines interest you so deeply.”

The clock ticked loudly.

Yamada said, “What else do you have? Tell me you have more.”

There was more, but he couldn't tell the superintendent any of it. He wasn't sure he understood it himself.

“Takuda, here's what they tell me. They tell me that you're misrepresenting your position as a detective. They tell me that you're interfering with regular investigations. They tell me that you had Mori illegally retrieve evidence from Ogawa's apartment. Now, here's what I know firsthand. You aren't coming in, you aren't staying in touch, and your paperwork is suddenly textbook perfect. You did a half-­baked interview with Ogawa's ex-­wife, and your report for that one is missing altogether. Now she's disappeared. We may never know what she could have told us.”

Takuda didn't allow himself to smile.

“Takuda, you let a Buddhist priest pray over the body of a foreign national.”

“He had the wife's permission.”

“It was a bad idea in the present circumstances. ­People are asking me what our policy is on such matters. Now I have to find a policy. For review. I don't know whose review. Way, way up, maybe not even in the prefecture. I can't see that far.”

“Reverend Suzuki happened to be there. It was a humanitarian act.”

“The governor's office asks if we consider Japanese religion better than foreign religion.”

Takuda shook his head. “That's stupid.”

“They ask why you didn't call a Catholic priest.”

“Reverend Suzuki just happened to be there.”

“As he just happened to be there when you found the shrine?”

“The cavern might not have been found otherwise.”

“No one will soon forget that fact, Detective. They tell me that you two have partially destroyed an important cultural artifact, some altar at the shrine above the cavern, and that you allowed the priest to trespass on a crime scene. Or you thought it was a crime scene.”

“How did they know we broke the altar?”

“So you admit it.”

“There were a lot of human remains. I thought the prayers of a priest were as appropriate as Officer Mori's crime scene flags.”

“Takuda, don't bring up Mori in my presence. Just don't say a word about him. If you've got some sort of mania about that valley, that's your problem, but you're dragging him down with you.”

“I don't understand.”

“You know that he's been following you around for a year now, and you've got him staked out as your personal driver.”

“He's a very bright young man.”

“He's smarter than both of us put together, and we're lucky that a man like him wants to be a detective. He could have been a damned fine one, too, but you've probably already ruined his chances.”

“How have I done such a thing?”

“Takuda, you had him steal evidence. Right in front of a sergeant, apparently. I have to deliver the papers back to Nakamura. With an apology.”

“Shouldn't I return them?”

“You won't be going back there. You're useless in that valley, Takuda.”

“I was only asking simple questions. Why are they so upset? Isn't that strange?” Takuda leaned forward. “What about this counselor, Endo? He has friends in high places. Is the pressure coming from him?”

“Don't worry about where the pressure comes from.” The superintendent folded his hands neatly on the table. “The pressure comes from me, Detective.” He regarded Takuda with dead, expressionless eyes. “The only pressure you ever need to think about comes from me.”

It was a bad time to ask questions, but Takuda was beyond caring. If he was going down, he might as well go down swinging.

Just as Takuda opened his mouth, the superintendent's phone rang. Yamada looked at the phone's tiny screen for several seconds before motioning Takuda out of the room.

Takuda stood outside. Detectives passing him in the hallway returned his greetings but did not look him in the eye.

The superintendent called him back in. “You're off the hook, Takuda. There was an accidental release from the southern dam, and the water has sluiced out the cavern. Washed it clean, apparently, and the walls have collapsed. It would have been a mess anyway, so it doesn't matter, whatever you and Mori and that half-­homeless priest did up there.”

Takuda blinked. “An accidental release.”

The superintendent nodded. “Don't start, Detective. You're thinking like an insurance adjuster, not a policeman. The real question would be why Zenkoku ever built a plant there to start with, but that's not our job.”

Takuda sat without being asked.

“So that leaves us with the question of what comes next. I remember when you were a rookie, and you patrolled the bar district. Do you remember that?”

Takuda nodded.

“Mori is taking his exam pretty soon, and I expect that he'll be an assistant detective. I'm partnering you two for the bar district. You'll bring a lot of stability to that area.”

“The gangsters bring stability to that area. You send us there, and your stability will be gone.”

“Steady, Detective, steady. It's not war, not since the new gang laws went into effect. You'll be surprised at how things have changed. This is the best way to keep Officer Mori's record clean and to bring him up through the ranks. Brushing elbows with thugs in the bar district can teach him a thing or two without plunging him straight into anti-­gang work. You know there are several ways to temper a sword, and we want to be careful with Mori. We want to bring him in smoothly.”

“And where will I fit? Do I end up window-­sitting, with a nice view of the water?”

The superintendent rolled his eyes as if hearing an old joke. “We can do it that way if you choose, Detective. It's all up to you.” He laid his hands flat on the table. “You know why you never got ahead? Why no one ever tapped you for bigger things?”

Takuda paused. “I noticed that I was passed over for a few things, but no, I never knew why.”

Yamada looked at his hands. “You were passed over for everything. Did you wonder why the Organized Crime Division sent you back early?”

Takuda said, “I thought you requested my return.”

Yamada didn't smile. “I pulled enough caseload from other detectives to make it look that way. They requested that I take you back. You were quite the hero. Leading every single big bust, the first one through the door every time, on the front line against the most hardened criminals in the country. It looked like leadership at first, but after a few busts, the guys backing you up got a little nervous. After a few more, they started thinking you were reckless. Finally, they started to think you didn't want to go home. They thought you wanted to die. Were they right? ”

Takuda was silent.

Yamada sighed. “It's a hard pill to swallow, but there it is. Take Mori to the bar district. Don't get him killed. Help him get his feet wet and keep his nose clean. Then we'll see if you have a career.”

Takuda rose from his seat. He turned to go, but something struck him. “You remember everything about my loan to the Organized Crime Division, but do you remember the name of my hometown?”

The superintendent frowned. “Some little village to the south, as I recall. I remember you were pretty green when you got here, even after a few years in a local force. Why do you ask?”

Takuda said, “Who said you should let me go to the Naga River valley? Who told you I was a good man for the job?”

“You volunteered to go, didn't you? Did you ask for this?”

“You never forget an assignment. You never forget anything. But you've forgotten twice that I grew up in the Naga River valley. Now you forget whether I volunteered or not. You don't think it's odd that your mind is so foggy about this?”

“I'm not foggy about anything, Takuda. I want you in the bar district until you get settled, you and Mori. Now get to it, and don't let me hear a word from you until you're in. Do you hear me?”