The Gate of Sorrows (37 page)

“Hmm. Do your trips to the supermarket include West Shinjuku?” Kotaro asked.

“Sometimes. Not always.”

“Do you know that religious organization there? House of Light?”

“Are they in that neighborhood? Okay, that explains why there’s pamphlets in the mailbox sometimes.”

“Well, I advise you to stay away from them. Your parents would flip.”

“Who knows? Maybe they’re the real deal.”

“He’s right, Ko-chan. Maybe you should do some patrolling and find out,” Kaname said.

“Have you ever patrolled any cult sites?”

“Ayuko had me try it when I came to interview. Once was enough.”

“I didn’t even know we did that. Did you, Makoto?”

“Don’t ask me. I haven’t even met the president yet.”

“That’s right, she was already working on her new thing when you joined.”

“Maybe she was worried about me because I’m a woman,” Kaname said. “Some cults are pitching stuff girls like, like diet plans and yoga and aromatherapy, as a front.”

“You’re not attracted to stuff like that.”

“Who knows? If I was depressed, I might think about it.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll always make the rational decision.”

Makoto had just placed an entire jumbo crab croquette in his mouth and was reaching for his water when it happened.

Everyone’s phone rang at the same time—a doorbell for Kotaro, classical music for Kaname, and the sound of a car crash for Makoto.

“Mako-chan, you can do better than that,” Kaname laughed. They all stared at their phones and exchanged glances as if to say,
I knew it
.

They had all received the same mail. Everyone else in Kumar must have as well.

TO: ALL EMPLOYEES

CODE BLUE. REPORT TO THE TOKYO OFFICE IMMEDIATELY.

“What do you think it is?” Kaname buckled down on the last of the gratin. “Maybe there was a break in the amputator case?”

Makoto was already scanning the news. “I don’t see anything. Yet.”

“Was there another murder?” Kotaro loaded the empty plates onto a tray with a clatter. “Maeda told me there was a Code Blue when that guy with a knife went nuts in Akihabara.”

“Is this the first time for you guys?” Makoto asked.

“Yeah. It’s kind of a shock.”

Afterward, everything they said and did, every gesture and facial expression, remained vividly in Kotaro’s memory. Their silly jokes. Kaname blowing on the gratin so she could eat faster. The way Makoto slathered sauce on everything deep-fried. How everything seemed so funny, and how he almost dropped his chopsticks laughing. How they competed to see who could cram the most food in their mouth. How Kaname pointed to a grain of rice stuck to Makoto’s lip and said
You’ve got lunch on your face.
How hard Makoto laughed.
That’s great! Never heard that one before.

How they stared at each other open-mouthed when Kotaro’s phone went off.

Because that instant marked the borderline between light and darkness, between fullness and loss. A bright line that could never be erased, a border they could never cross again. The rupture between what lay on the near side of that line and what lay beyond was so deep that everything was utterly transformed. The world as it was just before the line was crossed was burned into Kotaro’s memory.

He looked at his phone. “It’s Maeda.” Maeda was the senior member of Drug Island, after Seigo. “Speak of the devil. I hope there wasn’t a murder for real.”

Kaname’s face clouded. Makoto was still glancing at his news feed as he ate. Kotaro exchanged glances with both of them and hit
TALK
.

“It’s Kotaro.”

“Where are you?”

Maeda was into martial arts and could be a bit scary, but Kotaro had never heard him sound like this.

“I’m on campus. With Kaname and Makoto.”

“Ah, right. I heard you guys talking about the cafeteria. Well, it’s good that you’re out and about.” He lowered his voice and spoke hurriedly. “Have you heard?”

“Heard what?”

Makoto’s scrolling thumb stopped.

“I’m glad you said that. Just get back here right now.”

Makoto’s face stiffened. Kaname noticed. She leaned over to peer at his phone and gasped.

Kotaro felt something cold on his neck.
What’s wrong with her eyes?

“Kotaro? Are you listening?”

Kaname covered her mouth with both hands. Wide-eyed, Makoto scrolled quickly down.

“Maeda-san, what’s going on?”

Makoto answered before Maeda could. “The amputator just claimed his fifth victim.”

Maeda heard this. His voice went up an octave and tightened. “Don’t check the news! Just get over here, all three of you!”

Kaname’s face was bloodless now, her voice trembling. “Ko-chan, there’s a video. Someone shared it.”

Makoto was about to say something, but he stopped when he saw Kaname’s expression. He put his smartphone in the pocket of his jeans. “Let’s get going.”

Maeda was calling to Kotaro. Shouting at him. He’d taken his phone away from his ear without noticing.

“Kotaro! Kotaro!”

“We’re leaving now.”

Kaname burst into sobs and squatted on the floor. Makoto sat in front of her and hugged her.

“Is that Ashiya?” Maeda’s voice was breaking too.

Kaname wasn’t just crying. She had begun to gag. She was about to lose her lunch. Makoto rubbed her back.

“Oh my God.
Oh
my
God
.” Her face was creased with pain as she gagged and sobbed. Makoto was nearly as pale.

“Take care of her,” Maeda said.

“We’ll get there somehow,” Kotaro answered.

He hung up, squatted next to them and pulled Makoto’s smartphone out of his back pocket.

“I’m gonna be sick.” Kaname’s eyes widened and she gagged deep in her throat. She was right on the edge. She covered her mouth with both hands.

Makoto pulled her to her feet. “It’s over there.” They stumbled quickly toward the
RESTROOM
sign.

Makoto had paused the video before he put the phone in his pocket, but the frozen image alone was enough to make Kotaro go limp. He toppled over into a sitting position.

It was the upper half of a woman’s body. She was lying in thick weeds, face up, torso twisted slightly to the right, eyes open, lips parted. Her long hair was spread in a halo around her head. Some of it lay across one cheek. There was no mistaking the face.

It was Ayuko Yamashina.

Her black suit was off one shoulder. Her blouse had been ripped open at the neck, which was ringed with purple bruises. A fly perched on one of her eyeballs.

Kotaro hit play. The camera shook badly as it moved across the body. Her skirt had been pushed all the way up, leaving her completely exposed. She was barefoot. Her limbs were splayed in all directions, like a broken doll.

Who the hell took this? Why’d he upload it? Why’s the host letting people see this?

There was an edit and the camera focused in on the right hand, then the left.

All ten fingers were missing.

The shot went on forever. Kotaro dropped the phone, threw back his head and howled again, and again, and again.

“Don’t worry. The police already have the kid who took the video.”

This was the first thing Maeda said to Kaname. Her face was a mask. She’d exhausted herself crying.

When they’d arrived at Kumar, three-quarters of the Drug Island team were already there. The rest were outside Tokyo and couldn’t get back right away.

Most people from other teams were there too, but Seigo was nowhere to be seen. The island chiefs were handling things, with each one briefing his team. Maeda had stepped in for Seigo.

Before they arrived at the office, Kaname had been so upset that she’d collapsed on the sidewalk. Makoto had carried her the rest of the way on his back. Now she was leaning on him for support. Many women on the other teams were clinging to each other and crying. There were suppressed tears among the men too. When he opened the door, Maeda’s eyes were red and swollen. Narita, the chief of School Island, daubed at his eyes with a tissue as he walked by.

But anger was stronger than sadness. Those who were crying now would soon be just as furious as the rest. How could this have happened? How could their president, loved by all, giving her all for society, become the victim of such an outrageous crime, her body mutilated grotesquely and left for everyone to see?

“Maybe the bastard who shot the video is the killer.”

“It’s completely perverted.”

Maeda raised a thickly muscled arm, as though pushing back the wave of anger that was about to crest.

“The killer didn’t shoot the video. It’s disgraceful, but the perp is just a kid. He’s in the eighth grade.”

Kotaro shook his head. That hit close to home. What a dumbass thing to do. Makoto was shaking his head too. There were no words.

“I’m sure the cops have him turning blue right now,” Maeda added.

Ayuko’s body had been dumped in a corner of a vacant lot in a dense residential area of southern Meguro Ward. The old residence that once stood there had recently been torn down, and the lot was for sale. Over the months the weeds had grown thick on the property.

“The crime scene is a typical old Tokyo neighborhood. Lots of narrow streets packed with houses and wood-frame apartment buildings.”

The body had been discovered that morning around five thirty, when a woman living next door took out her trash.

“She started yelling and a lot of people heard her. A crowd formed pretty quickly. It took about five minutes for the police to get there. That was long enough for the kid to make his damn video.”

The teenager had probably been beside himself with excitement.
Awesome! If I upload this, I’ll get a million page views. Everyone will watch it. I’ll be famous! No, I’ll be a god!
He’d been so excited that he hadn’t actually seen the horror in front of him. He’d been too busy videoing.

The Internet is an open space where everyone can express themselves, but it’s also a playground for idiots with a thirst for attention. Kotaro suddenly began to feel nauseated.

“Why didn’t someone stop him?” Makoto asked.

“They probably didn’t know what he was doing. Everyone was confused and distracted. There were a lot of people milling around in that empty lot.”

“Didn’t they know enough to leave a crime scene alone? They might’ve destroyed some evidence,” another member muttered bitterly.

“Still, I have to admit … It’s hard to say this, but …” Maeda grimaced. “One of our patrollers found the video. That’s how we knew it was Ayuko. We notified the police immediately. I hoped it was just a mis— A mis—” Maeda’s tongue stopped working for a moment.

“A mistake,” he said, his voice breaking. “Someone who just looked like her. Without the video, we might not even know something’d happened to her yet.”

Ayuko’s favorite black bag, her smartphone and laptop, her purse with her business cards—everything that might have helped identify her was missing. All the police would’ve reported initially was the discovery of a corpse in an empty lot.

The senior woman on the team spoke up sharply. “Wasn’t anyone keeping track of her? When did she come to Tokyo? Why was she alone? Wasn’t anyone managing her schedule?”

The question was on everyone’s mind. Maeda winced and nodded.

“She was supposed to be in Nagoya all this week. I got that straight from Seigo. But something must’ve come up. She arrived at Tokyo Station at eight last night and went to her condo in Azabu. She was supposed to be here at noon.”

“She took the bullet train alone?”

“No, Morohashi was with her as usual. He put her in a taxi at Tokyo Station.” Morohashi was Ayuko’s personal assistant in the Nagoya office. He was around thirty and fairly athletic.

Before she’d entered the public eye, Ayuko usually traveled alone, unless there was some need to bring Morohashi along. People in Tokyo rarely saw him. But things had changed, and recently Morohashi was always with Ayuko when she traveled. If he saw Morohashi, Kotaro knew she was in the office even if he hadn’t seen her. Kaname called him the “president’s bodyguard.”

No one had seen Ayuko from the time she parted with her “bodyguard” at Tokyo Station until she was found that morning in Meguro Ward.

“I think most of you know, or probably suspected, that Seigo and Ayuko have been very close for a long time,” Maeda said, looking around the room.

For the past year they’d been living together. They just hadn’t made it official yet. Ayuko spent a lot of time traveling between Nagoya and Tokyo, but they were planning to marry and live in Nagoya after the Tokyo office closed.

“Ayuko was planning to have Seigo take over as president so she could concentrate on her nonprofit. He wasn’t too keen on that, but since he mentioned it at one of our meetings, I guess it was a done deal.

“So there was a lot going on,” he added, again sounding apologetic, as though he shared some portion of responsibility for Ayuko’s death. “She had to wear different hats and juggle a huge amount of work, and she’d started planning her wedding. Morohashi told me recently that he sometimes had trouble keeping track of her. But how was she supposed to travel absolutely everywhere with him?”