David Peace - Tokyo Year Zero

‘But it’s not my case,’ I tell him. ‘And there’s a problem…’

‘A problem for who?’ asks Senju. ‘For you or for me?’

‘For both of us,’ I tell him. ‘Fujita is missing…’

‘And why is this a problem for either of us?’

‘Do you know where he is?’ I ask him.

‘No,’ says Senju. ‘But I’ll ask you again, why would a missing Detective Fujita be my problem?’

‘He’s wanted for questioning about the death of Hayashi Jo,’ I say, and then I pause, I swallow, and now I say, ‘He’s wanted for questioning because Hayashi Jo left behind a letter, a last testament, in which he claims to have information putting Fujita in the New Oasis with Nodera Tomiji on the night of the hit on Matsuda…’

Senju has stopped listening. Senju is stood up now –

Senju showering me with money and with pills –

‘This is not a problem,’ Senju is shouting –

‘This is going to be a pleasure!’

*

It will be hours before I lie again here upon the old tatami mats of her dim and lamp-lit room. It will be hours before I stare again at her peeling screens with their ivy-leaf designs. Hours before I watch her draw again her figures with their fox-faces upon these screens –

I cannot stay tonight. I cannot take the Calmotin –

I do not want to close my eyes tonight –

For I have one last place still to go.

‘I wish it would rain,’ she says –

‘I cannot stay tonight,’ I tell her. ‘I won’t be here tomorrow. But, as soon as I return to Tokyo, I’ll come straight here…’

Now Yuki puts down her pencils and reaches for a piece of tissue paper. Now she covers both her eyebrows with the paper and stares at me in the panels of her mirror –

‘Does this become me?’

I leave her money –

I leave her pills.

Tokyo, 90°, fine

The Matsuzawa Hospital for the Insane is on the border between the Setagaya and Suginami wards, half-way between my own house in Mitaka and the house of Murota Hideki in Kitazawa. I thought you would have seen enough of that place . I know the Matsuzawa Hospital for the Insane well, but I’m not sure why I’m here today –

I thought you would have seen enough of that place…

The Matsuzawa Hospital was built during the reign of the Emperor Meiji and survived the fires and the famines of the last two years to still be standing in the reign of the Emperor MacArthur –

I hate hospitals. I hate all hospitals…

But its buildings are in disrepair and its grounds untended now, the gates long taken for the war effort and the trees cut down for winter fuel. Inside the reception, the paint on the walls has faded and the linoleum on the floor is worn, the staff anaesthetized –

But I hate this hospital the most…

‘Former Police Inspector Mori,’ I say again –

But the receptionist still shakes her head –

‘Please check for me,’ I ask her. ‘It is very important and he was only admitted last month. Mori Ichiro…’

The gaunt receptionist in the stained uniform does not speak but turns away and disappears now, disappears into the grubby office behind the grimy counter. I wait and I wait –

Chiku-taku. Chiku-taku. Chiku…

The same sounds of screams and sobs as at Keiō Hospital, the same smells of DDT and disinfectant –

I hate this place. I hate…

‘Here it is,’ says the receptionist now with a file in her hand. ‘Mori Ichiro was admitted on the thirtieth of June this year.’

‘And is Mr. Mori still here?’ I ask her –

The receptionist nods. ‘Yes, he is.’

‘I’d like to see him then, please.’

The receptionist shakes her head now. The receptionist says, ‘But you know I can’t just let you —’

‘Then please tell me the name of Mr. Mori’s doctor,’ I say. ‘And tell me where I can find him.’

The receptionist looks down at the file and says, ‘Dr. Nomura. His office is on the second…’

‘I know,’ I tell her and I start to walk away, to walk away and then to run, to run down the corridor and up the stairs, up the stairs and along another corridor, along another corridor to bang on the door, to bang on the door to the office of Dr. Nomura, to bang on the door and then open it, open it and bow and say, ‘Excuse me…’

Dr. Nomura looks up from the papers on his desk –

‘Inspector?’ he says. ‘It’s been a while…’

‘And I am sorry to call on you unannounced,’ I say again. ‘But I am here on police business this time…’

‘Please sit down, then,’ says the doctor now. ‘And can I offer you a drink of cold tea, detective…?’

I wipe my face and I wipe my neck. I glance at my watch and I shake my head. I say, ‘Thank you but I haven’t much time, doctor.’

The doctor nods. ‘What is it I can do for you, detective?’

‘You have a patient I would like to see,’ I tell the doctor. ‘A former chief inspector of police called Mori. Mori Ichiro…’

The doctor nods again. The doctor says, ‘I know.’

‘Well, I’d very much like to see him,’ I tell the doctor again. ‘It is important I speak with him about an investigation.’

Now the doctor shakes his head. Now the doctor says, ‘I very much doubt that that will be possible, inspector…’

‘Why not?’ I ask him. ‘It’s important.’

‘I understand that,’ says the doctor. ‘But, unfortunately, Mr. Mori has not responded to any of our treatments or our regimens –

‘And so, for the moment, Mr. Mori does not speak…’

‘I would still like to see him,’ I tell the doctor.

The doctor shakes his head. The doctor says, ‘As you know better than most, detective, recovery from the kind of sudden mental collapse which former Chief Inspector Mori suffered on learning he was to be purged, such a sudden mental collapse takes a very, very long time to recover from, if at all, and any further shocks to the brain can cause irreparable damage to the patient…’

I bow. I nod. I say, ‘I know that.’

The blood-flecked scroll…

‘In the case of your father, for example,’ continues the doctor. ‘One sudden moment of lucidity, a moment of clarity, proved fatal.’

I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to remember…

I nod again. I say again, ‘May I see him but not speak?’

The blood-flecked scroll on the wall…

‘Yes,’ says the doctor. ‘Though I’m not sure why…’

In the half-light, I can’t forget…

‘He was a policeman,’ I tell him. ‘Like my father…’

The blood-flecked scroll on the wall behind his desk…

‘Like my father,’ I say again now. ‘And like me…’

I can’t forget. I can’t forget…

Dr. Nomura nods. Dr Nomura says, ‘Follow me —’ And so I follow Dr. Nomura out of his office, out of his office and down another long corridor, another long corridor through locked metal doors, through locked metal doors into the secure wards, into the secure wards and down more corridors, down more corridors to the secure rooms, the secure rooms and more locked metal doors –

Now Dr. Nomura stops before one locked metal door –

One locked metal door with a bolted metal hatch –

‘Here we are,’ says Nomura. ‘But just look…’

Nomura slides back the bolts on the hatch. Nomura lowers the metal hatch. Now Nomura steps back and says, ‘There you are…’

I step towards the door. I look through the hatchway –

I stare through the hatchway at the man inside –

The man inside, cross-legged on his cot –