David Peace - Tokyo Year Zero

I bow. I apologize. I make my excuses. My report –

But Adachi doesn’t care. He’s not listening. Adachi is not looking for the others. He’s looking for Detective Fujita –

No one is who they say they are …

I scratch my skull and suck in air. I shake my head and I say, ‘Detective Fujita has gone back to Atago police station, sir.’

*

Back at Atago, one hour later, and Chief Inspector Adachi is staring at me. No Fujita . The First Team, the Second Team and all the uniforms from the other stations are gathered in the First Team’s room at Atago. Adachi is staring at me. No Fujita . I am stood up at the front of the room beside Adachi, Kanehara and Kai, the four of us facing the First Team, the Second Team and the uniforms. But Adachi’s eyes are turned to the side and fixed on me –

No Fujita. No Fujita. No Fujita. No Fujita …

‘Attention!’ shouts the sergeant –

‘Bow!’ he shouts. ‘At ease!’

Everyone stands at ease now or sits down except Inspector Kai and me. Kai has a piece of paper in his hand; Kai reads out the findings from Dr. Nakadate’s preliminary autopsy report on the first body; the physical description of the victim and her estimated age, the time of her death and the cause of her death. But I am not listening. I am looking for the face of Detective Fujita in the faces at the back and sides of this room –

‘Inspector Minami!’ says Adachi again. ‘If you wouldn’t mind giving us your report…’

I bow. I apologize. I begin to read aloud the findings of the preliminary autopsy report on the second body; the physical description of the victim and her estimated age, the time of her death and the cause of her death. But I am not listening to my own words. I am still looking for the face of Fujita in the faces at the back and sides of this room, still looking for Fujita when I see Ishida –

‘Attention!’ shouts the sergeant again –

Ishida here, his face to the floor …

‘Bow!’ the sergeant shouts –

His back bent …

‘Dismissed!’

He runs …

I run.

*

Down the Atago stairs, through the uniforms, to the doors, but I am too late. Too late. Too late. Too late . The hand on my arm. I jump. I jump. I jump . I spin round but it’s not Ishida. Not Fujita –

The desk sergeant asks, ‘Did you speak to Detective Fujita?’

‘No,’ I tell him. ‘Where is Detective Fujita?’

‘Hayashi of the Minpo paper…’

‘What about him?’ I ask –

‘He was here…’

‘When?’

‘This afternoon,’ says the sergeant. ‘Hayashi was looking for you, but you were up at Keiō, so he asked to see Detective Fujita…’

‘And was Detective Fujita here?’

‘Yes,’ says the desk sergeant. ‘He was waiting to see you too, kept asking me what time you were due back from Keiō…’

‘And so when did you last see Detective Fujita?’

‘I haven’t seen him since he met Hayashi…’

‘When?’ I ask him. ‘When was that?’

‘It must have been about 3 p.m….’

‘Where? Where did they meet?’

‘They were here first,’ says the sergeant. ‘In reception, but then they stepped outside and…’

‘And what?’ I ask –

‘And I haven’t seen Detective Fujita since he stepped outside with Mr. Hayashi.’

*

Past the pots and the pans, the kettles and the cans. Down the alleys and the lanes, the shadows and the arches. Up the stairs and through the doors. I kneel down on his tatami mats. I bow. I say, ‘I’m sorry.’

Senju Akira selects a new toothpick. Senju slips it between his teeth and chews. He spins his new electric fan my way and says, ‘You always smell of corpses, always stink of death, detective.’

I say again, ‘I’m sorry. I’m very, very sorry…’

‘They tell me you’ve got yourself another dead body,’ says Senju. ‘They tell me you’re all camped out at Atago police station.’

I say, ‘Yes. Two young women were found in Shiba Park.’

‘Were these two young women prostitutes?’ he asks.

I say, ‘Maybe not. We haven’t identified them yet.’

‘It’s no wonder you smell like shit then, is it?’ he laughs. ‘They work you hard, don’t they? How many hours a day is it?’

I tell him, ‘Twenty-four on a murder investigation.’

‘Twenty-four hours?’ he laughs again. ‘That’s nearly as many as I work, detective! But at least I work for me and at least I get well paid and at least my kids get to eat and my mistresses get to wear silk stockings and I don’t smell of fucking corpses…’

Now Senju Akira stops laughing. Now Senju spits out his toothpick. Now he says, ‘So tell me, officer, how many detectives have they got working on these two dead girls?’

I tell him, ‘About twenty detectives.’

‘Twenty? For two dead whores?’

I start to say, ‘I don’t know…’

‘So tell me this, detective, how many men then have you got out there looking for the killer of my boss? For the real killer? For the man who paid Nodera to pull the trigger? How many, detective?’

I bow. I apologize. I tell him, ‘It’s not my decision…’

‘So what use are you to me? What use, detective?’

I bow again. I start to say again, ‘I’m sorry…’

‘Shut up!’ shouts Senju and he gets to his feet and he says, ‘Let’s take a walk, just you and me, detective.’

I stand up. I follow him. Down his stairs. To his two goons –

In their pale suits, their patterned shirts and their shades …

The two goons and us stepping out into the market –

His market; the Shimbashi New Life Market …

Each stall-keeper bowing and thanking Senju as he ambles past them, past the fresh sardines and second-hand suits, past the coffee and the silk, each stall offering him free this and free that, bowing and thanking him as he acknowledges them all with an imperial nod or a military salute, these people on their knees, bowing and thanking him, on their worn-out knees at his leather-shod feet –

Emperor Senju, Banzai! Emperor Senju, Banzai! Banzai!

Then he turns to me and asks, ‘You got a name for me?’

‘I’m sorry. I’m very sorry,’ I say. I bow my head –

‘So why do you come around here, detective?’

‘I’m sorry,’ I say again. ‘I’m very sorry…’

‘Stop apologizing,’ says Senju. ‘And start looking around you, looking where you are. This is a market, officer, where people come to buy and sell. This is the future –

‘This is the New Japan!’

‘Yes,’ I agree. ‘Yes.’

‘Yes?’ laughs Senju. ‘But you’ve got nothing to sell and no money to buy, detective.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I say again. ‘I’m very sorry.’

‘You’re the past, Detective Inspector Minami,’ he laughs again. ‘With your stench of death and your one hundred yen a month, your shrieking kids and your starving mistress…’

I bow my head.

Now Senju stops at a kakigōri stall. Senju asks for two strawberry flavoured cups. The stall-owner bows. The owner hands them to Senju. He thanks Senju again and again –

Senju hands one of the cups to me –

I bow. I apologize. I thank him –

I curse him. I curse him …

‘What is it you really want?’ he asks me. ‘More money, is that what you need, detective?’

I shake my head. I apologize again. Then finally I tell him, ‘Please, I really need some Calmotin.’

‘Calmotin?’ laughs Senju. ‘Why would you want to sleep? I wouldn’t want your dreams…’

‘Please,’ I beg him again. ‘I really need some Calmotin.’