Mo Hayder - The Devil of Nanking aka Tokyo

‘Yotsuya.’ I waved my hand in the vague direction. ‘The big building in Yotsuya. The black one.’

‘Ah, yes,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Yes, I do know.’

Something in his voice made me look up. But he wasn’t looking at me, instead his milky eyes were focused in mid-air, as if he was thinking about something very puzzling.

‘Professor Shi? Have you come to tell me about the film?’

He inclined his head, his eyes still distant. It wasn’t a yes, and it wasn’t a no. I waited for him to continue but he didn’t, he seemed for a while to have forgotten that I was there. Then he said suddenly, in a quiet voice, ‘Do you know? To conceal the past is not such a rare trick.’

‘What?’

He regarded me thoughtfully, as if he was thinking not about Nanking but, rather, about me. I stared back at him, my face getting redder and redder.

‘ What? ’

‘It’s not such an unusual thing. It’s a trick that relies only on silence.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

He reached inside his pocket and produced what looked like a small origami crane about the size of a matchbox, made from vivid red and purple washi paper. Its head was held back, its wings were extended dramatically. ‘Look at this – this perfect bird.’ He put the crane on my palm. I stared down at it. It was heavier than it looked; it seemed to be bound round the base with a complex structure of rubber bands. I looked up at him questioningly. He was nodding, his eyes on the little bird. ‘Imagine that this, this calm little bird, is the past. Imagine.’

I looked down at the crane, not understanding. Then I saw something was happening. It was quivering. I could feel the tremor in my wrist, my arms, all over my skin. The purple wings were shivering. I opened my mouth to say something, but the bird seemed to explode. From its centre leaped something red and terrifying, like a jack-in-the-box: the hideous face of a Chinese dragon shooting up at me, making me drop it and jump to my feet. My chair toppled over and I stood trembling, my hands out, staring down to where the odd, paper-accordion dragon twitched and twisted on the ground, the rubber bands unwinding.

Shi Chongming hooked it up on his cane, catching it and crumpling it into his pocket. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not a magician.’

I glanced up at him, my face red, my heart pounding.

‘It’s only a children’s trick. Don’t look so bewildered. Please, sit down.’

After a while, when I was sure the dragon wasn’t going to leap from his pocket, I picked up my chair and sat, looking at him warily.

‘I mean you to understand that when you talk about the past it is like putting a ball of phosphorous out under a cloudy sky. The past has transforming energy. The energy of wind or fire. We need to have respect for something so destructive. And you are asking to walk straight into it without a thought? It is a dangerous land. You have to be sure that you want to go ahead.’

‘Of course I am,’ I said, still watching him guardedly. ‘Of course I want to.’

‘There was a professor who wanted to do his best for his university in China.’ Shi Chongming sat holding his teacup primly, his feet close together. As he spoke he didn’t let his eyes meet mine, but addressed his words to the air. ‘I hope you understand my meaning. This professor heard that there was a company in Hong Kong, a manufacturer of Chinese medicine, that wanted to join with a university to cast a scientific eye over traditional cures. He knew how important it was that his university win this partnership, but he also knew that his research team would have to find something special to interest the company.’ Shi Chongming sat forward and lowered his voice: ‘Then one day he heard rumours, through strange and unnamable networks, whispers of a tonic that had remarkable effects. It was rumoured, among other things, to cure chronic diabetes, arthritis, even malaria.’ He raised his eyebrows at me. ‘Can you imagine how astounding it would be if it were true?’

I didn’t answer. I was still uncomfortable, still wary of Shi Chongming and the paper dragon in his jacket. I didn’t know what I had expected from this meeting – his acquiescence, maybe, or simply more obstinacy. What I hadn’t expected was the focused, determined look on his face now as he spoke.

‘The professor knew that if only his university could find the ingredients in this tonic they would have a chance of winning the partnership deal. It took him much hard work and many secretive enquiries, but at last he tracked down someone who was said to be in possession of the tonic. There was only one problem. That person lived in Japan.’

He put down his cup and sat up a little straighter in his chair, placing both hands stiffly on his thighs as if he were a small child in a confessional. ‘I have not been completely honest with Todai University. They are under the impression that I am interested in what Chinese traditions the Japanese Army brought home. And, largely speaking, that is true. But there is a little more to it than that. I secured my post at Todai for one reason: to get to Japan and track down the ingredients.’

‘You lied, you mean. You lied to them to get your fellowship.’

He smiled wryly. ‘If you want to put it like that. Yes, I lied. The truth is that I am in Tokyo to secure the future of my university. If I could find what this mysterious substance is, things would change – not only for me but for hundreds of others.’ He rubbed his eyes wearily. ‘Unfortunately my arrival in Tokyo was not the end of the hunt. Rather, it was the beginning. The man I want to talk to is very elderly, more than eighty years old, and he is one of the most powerful men in Japan. He is surrounded by people who are absolutely forbidden to talk and most information that comes out is rumours and superstition.’ Shi Chongming smiled. ‘To put things in brief, I have come up against a wall.’

‘I don’t know why you’re telling me this. It’s got nothing to do with me.’

He nodded, as if for once I was right. ‘Except that when he is feeling well he sometimes visits the hostess clubs in Tokyo. Yes. And one of the places he is sometimes seen is the very club that you work in. Maybe now you can understand the way my mind is working.’

I paused, the cup up to my lips, my eyes on his. Things were becoming clearer. Shi Chongming was talking about Junzo Fuyuki.

‘Yes?’ he said, rather archly, taking in my surprised look. ‘What is it? Have I upset you?’

‘I know who you mean. I think I’ve met him. Junzo Fuyuki.’

Shi Chongming’s eyes gleamed, intelligent and acute. ‘You’ve met him,’ he said, sitting forward a little. ‘My instincts were correct.’

‘He’s in a wheelchair?’

‘Yes.’

‘Professor Shi.’ I lowered the cup slowly. ‘Junzo Fuyuki is a gangster. Did you know that?’

‘Of course. That is what I have been telling you. He is the oyabun, the godfather of the Fuyuki gumi.’ He picked up his cup, took a few delicate sips of tea and returned it to the table. He seemed to draw himself up to his full height, to his formal, military-parade bearing. ‘Now, this is what I am going to ask you. Fuyuki is sometimes friendly with the hostesses in the clubs. He entertains sometimes, at his apartment, where I am sure he keeps the ingredient we are discussing. He likes to drink too, and I am certain that sometimes he lets down his guard. I think maybe he would talk to you. I think you will be able to discover the true nature of the ingredient.’

‘I’ve already seen it. I mean I’ve seen him taking something. Something – a…’ I held my thumb and forefinger an inch apart to indicate the size of the Nurse’s phial. ‘A fluid. With a brownish powder in it.’