The fine art of uncanny.., p.18
The Fine Art of Uncanny Prediction, page 18
‘But something does, Wada. You can trust me on that.’
‘But what?’
‘Rinzaki met my step-grandfather Clyde here in Tokyo during the Occupation. Clyde worked for some branch or other of SCAP – Supreme Command, Allied Powers. And Rinzaki worked for Clyde. Office boy, filing clerk, something like that. Something lowly, anyhow. But that didn’t stop him making himself indispensable and sliming his way up through the system. They stayed in touch after Clyde went home to California. I think Clyde may have invested in Rinzaki’s film company. He set that up in 1949, three years before the Occupation ended. Hard to see how he could have pulled that off without a little help from his friends. And you’ll agree an American officer was just about the most useful kind of friend to have back then. Point is, I don’t really know the extent of their … financial connections. Or any other connections, for that matter. But they endured, to the end of Clyde’s life.’
‘You said Rinzaki wasn’t involved in the winery, but in some other family enterprise. Would that be BISRI?’
‘You’ve done your research, haven’t you? Yes. BISRI. We’ll get to that.’
‘It was set up by Clyde after his daughter-in-law and grandchildren were killed in the San Francisco earthquake of 1989.’
‘Yes. It was. I was three years old and living with my mother in Phoenix when they were killed. My father was already off the scene by then. My mother took a bookkeeping job at Braxton Winery after we moved to Santa Rosa. That’s how she met Grant. They were married in 2003.’
‘Making you heir to the business as Grant’s stepson.’
‘It’s not quite as simple as that. But … I have expectations. Talking of which, that looks just about as delicious as it can get.’
Kimber’s attention had turned to the bowl of wild boar ragout that was about to be placed in front of him, which, according to him, needed an accompanying bottle of red wine, leaving Wada to the white – and a modest fig and walnut salad.
After the briefest of digressions about how superior Braxtons’ Pinot Noir was to the one on Tuscania’s wine list, he reverted to the subject of Rinzaki’s dealings with the family his mother had married into. ‘The first time I met Rinzaki was when he came to Clyde’s funeral in 2005. I disliked him right from the start. I mean, the guy presents himself as this correct, cultured traditionalist. You’d think he was descended from Meiji nobility the way he carries on. Instead of which, well, who knows which gutter he crawled out of. My mother didn’t like him either. He had this … attitude … towards Grant. It was as if he thought Grant owed him something because of his long association with Clyde. He kept on and on about BISRI – what a pity it was it hadn’t made any breakthroughs in Clyde’s lifetime; how he’d be happy to advise Grant on recruiting more Japanese experts to ginger it up. And there was something else – something more – between them that I wasn’t let in on. Neither was my mother. Of course, I was a cocky nineteen-year-old then, so you could argue it was just a standard personality/generation clash. But other evidence suggests not.’
‘What evidence would that be?’
‘Oh, no.’ He grinned at her over the rim of his wine glass. ‘The time has come, Wada, for you to deliver on your side of the bargain. Who is Manjiro Nagata?’
She couldn’t deny he’d revealed far more to her than she had to him. And she sensed he could be obdurate as well as forthcoming. She had to give him something. And something in this case was Nagata. ‘He is the nephew of the chairman of Jinno Construction. He used to work for the company, but left some time ago and became increasingly reclusive. More recently, he seems … to have vanished completely. His father hired me to find him. And that’s what I’ve been trying to do. So far without success.’
‘What’s the connection with Daiju Endo?’
‘Endo asked a civil servant friend of his to trawl intelligence records for information about Nagata. He didn’t find anything significant. And by the time he’d come up with nothing … Endo had disappeared as well.’
‘So, you only got on to Endo because this favour from a friend came to light while you were looking for Nagata.’
‘Basically, yes.’
‘But you know the Endo story, don’t you?’ For all his self-confidence, Kimber judged it necessary to lower his voice at this point. ‘That he was fired from a government job after telling the media – who buried the story – that there’d been a warning of the 2011 tsunami the day before it happened. A warning … from the Kobe Sensitive.’
‘How do you know that?’ Yes. How did he know that? There’d been no leak of the story that Wada was aware of.
‘We haven’t quite got to the point in our relationship where I feel I can trust you with that information, Wada, though I sense we’re getting close. What took you to Matsuda Sanso?’
‘Endo’s known to have gone there shortly after the media agreed to embargo his claims about the Kobe Sensitive. I wondered if he might have … gone there again later. I was looking for a clue – any kind of clue – about what became of him.’
Kimber frowned at her. ‘You’re sure Endo went to Matsuda Sanso?’
‘I am.’
‘Can you prove it?’
‘He was followed there by an investigator hired by one of the newspapers before the embargo was applied.’
‘And you’ve spoken to this investigator?’
‘No.’
‘Don’t you think you should?’
‘I cannot speak to him. He is … deceased.’
Kimber’s forkful of ragout froze halfway to his mouth. ‘He’s dead?’
‘Subway suicide.’
‘Jesus.’ Kimber put down his fork. ‘Are you going to eat any more of that salad? Only I think we should take a cigarette break. They have a smoking balcony here.’
‘I don’t smoke.’
‘Neither do I, generally. But it’s more … private … out there. After what you’ve just said, I think a little privacy might be a good thing, don’t you?’
Wada didn’t argue. A few minutes later, they were standing on the restaurant balcony, holding their wine glasses and pretending to enjoy the vista of Ginza by night as Kimber puffed half-heartedly at a cigarillo. The only other diners out there were a man and woman at the far end who were entirely absorbed in each other.
‘You don’t believe the investigator killed himself, do you?’ Kimber asked in an undertone as he leant against the parapet railings.
‘I believe there is another possibility.’
‘Another possibility? You’re certainly not one to overreact, are you?’
‘Would overreaction accomplish anything?’
‘Where do you think Endo is now – on a balance of probability?’
‘I think there’s a high likelihood he returned to Matsuda Sanso. Since then, he has been seen by no one.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning I wouldn’t put money on him ever being seen again. But, then, I never gamble.’
‘Of course you don’t.’ He drew reflectively on the cigarillo. ‘I’ll tell you a story. Let’s see what you make of it. Endo made his claims about the Kobe Sensitive in March of last year. Correct?’
‘Yes. Around the tenth anniversary of the tsunami.’
‘Right. Well, a couple of months after that, a Japanese woman called Yukari Otonashi joined BISRI as some kind of … special consultant. You have to understand I’m not involved in BISRI. The winery’s my area of responsibility. I got most of what I know about Otonashi from my mother and some people at BISRI I’m on good terms with. She was referred to Grant, my stepfather, by Rinzaki as someone who might be a genuine earthquake sensitive. Well, BISRI have studied a few supposed sensitives over the years and always concluded they were either faking it or deluded. Not so with Otonashi, however. She came highly recommended. The whisper was that she was actually the Kobe Sensitive, with two verifiably accurate predictions to her name. Kobe, obviously. Plus the tsunami, based on Endo’s quashed story, which Rinzaki evidently knew all about. Nobody officially said she was the Kobe Sensitive. That was just a water-cooler rumour. Wishful thinking, if you like. But according to my mother Rinzaki arranged for Grant to meet Endo in order to verify Otonashi’s claims. And Grant … believed what he was told. He wanted to believe it, of course. He’d always wanted to believe something like that was possible, so he could say his first wife and two young children hadn’t died in vain – that his father’s creation of BISRI had finally achieved what they’d both dreamt of.’
‘How old is Yukari Otonashi?’
‘I don’t know exactly. Middle-aged. Probably a bit older than she looks. And, let me tell you, she is a beautiful woman. I mean, very attractive, even at fifty, or whatever she is. Which is part of the problem. If not the whole problem in some ways.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Grant’s in love with her.’ Kimber chuckled mirthlessly. ‘The old, old story. Mom can’t compete with a beautiful younger woman who fascinates him with her supposed ability to do what he and his father set their hearts on achieving. She’s worked him into a state of total infatuation.’
‘And you fear she’s going to persuade him to, what, divorce your mother, marry her, disinherit you?’
‘You make that sound very self-centred, Wada. I do actually worry about my mother as well as myself. And about my stepfather as well. There’s no fool like an old fool. And she’s certainly fooling him.’
‘You don’t believe she might just be … the real thing? And that what there is between her and your stepfather is … genuine mutual attraction?’
‘Maybe I could believe that, if she hadn’t come into our lives thanks to Rinzaki. But this is really all about him. What he wants. What he’s determined to have.’
‘Which is?’
Kimber shook his head. ‘I haven’t the remotest fucking idea.’
‘Has Otonashi returned to Japan at all since joining BISRI?’
‘A couple of times. Grant went with her the first time. To get corroboration from Endo, so he told Mom. But she suspected another motive. When they came back it was obvious … their relationship was on a whole new level.’
‘And Endo had corroborated her story?’
‘So Grant said.’
‘And Otonashi went back on another occasion?’
‘There was a trip on her own as well, yeah.’
‘When?’
‘Late last year. Some … family issue. Supposedly.’
‘Late last year is when Endo was last seen.’ Wada was thinking hard now – about the woman who, according to Yamato, had entered Endo’s life; about the money he’d apparently come by; about the triangle of connections between Endo, Otonashi and Goro Rinzaki. ‘He was behaving erratically. He was spending a lot of money. But he was also worried … about something.’ And he badly wanted information on Manjiro Nagata, though where Nagata fitted in to all this Wada could not for the moment imagine. The mystery was too dense for her to penetrate – for now. ‘I think he went to see Rinzaki at Matsuda Sanso. And I think he may never have left.’
‘And that’s why you went there yesterday? To look for evidence of Endo’s visit?’
‘Yes.’
‘Find any?’
Wada did not speak. She supplied her answer with a nod.
‘What did you find?’
‘Leave that with me for the present. It is not enough in itself to clinch the matter. But it is … suggestive.’
‘Oh yeah? And what does it suggest?’
‘That the source of Endo’s sudden wealth may have been Rinzaki. That it may have been payment for backing up Otonashi’s claim that she is the Kobe Sensitive. And that Endo may have begun to regret what he had done, thereby becoming …’
‘A liability.’
‘It is possible.’
Kimber drained his wine glass. ‘I want Otonashi out of our lives, Wada. I want Rinzaki out as well. I came over here to find the means to do that. I haven’t made a lot of progress. Rinzaki covers his tracks well. Disappearances and convenient suicides add up to a cartload of suspicion but not so much as a thimbleful of proof. And proof is what I need to sway Grant. Think you can supply that? You’re the private detective, after all. You’re the professional here.’
‘I am working on it.’
‘Well, there’s something more I can give you to work on, as it happens. Could be the vital lead you’re looking for. Why don’t we go back inside and I can tell you about it? They’ll be wanting to serve our main courses.’
He was right about the main courses. They were served as soon as they sat down at their table: more meat for Kimber, fish for Wada. And Kimber seemed happy to be reunited with his bottle of red.
‘Clyde’s widow, Hetty – she died just a few years ago – complained on several occasions about Rinzaki. She never liked the way he somehow managed to stay in her husband’s life. She also complained to Rinzaki, at Clyde’s funeral, about harassment she said he’d been subjected to by some guy who’d worked under him in Japan, name of Perlman. Perlman had written letters to the State Department over a period of years alleging malpractice by Clyde while he was at SCAP – plus involvement in the death of an intelligence officer supposedly investigating said malpractice. Perlman had contacted the intelligence officer’s family as well and roped them into his complaints. Not that anyone had taken him seriously. But he was a thorn in Clyde’s side – and Hetty’s. “Why didn’t you ever do something useful for Clyde, like getting that crazy man Perlman off his back?” I remember her saying that to Rinzaki. She was really angry. Rinzaki just kept bowing and repeating his deep condolences – which only angered her more.’
Perlman sounded immediately interesting to Wada. ‘Do you know whether this man is still alive?’ she asked.
‘I do now. I thought it was unlikely he’d still be above ground, but finding out as much as I could about his allegations against Clyde was one of my reasons for coming here. I reckoned those allegations probably implicated Rinzaki as well. I contacted various Navy veterans’ groups and one of them told me Daniel Perlman had stayed in Japan after the Occupation ended and for many years had run a bar – the Flight Deck – near the US naval base at Yokosuka. They didn’t have any up-to-date information on him. I went down to Yokosuka last weekend and paid a visit to the Flight Deck. Turns out Perlman’s dead. No surprise, really. His Japanese widow and daughter run the place now. I met the widow. She was polite but evasive, if you know what I mean.’
‘Reticence about personal matters is a Japanese characteristic,’ Wada pointed out, surprised to find herself instantly sympathizing with Perlman’s widow when faced with cross-questioning by Troy Kimber.
‘Well, maybe that’s all it was. But here’s the thing. Daniel Perlman died in 2005, the same year as Clyde. Just a few months later, as a matter of fact. Now, I asked his widow how he died and she just said, “Accident.” But what does that mean? I thought maybe you could find out.’
‘Did she tell you the exact date of his death?’
‘No. She didn’t even tell me the year. In fact, she implied it was longer ago than it actually was. More than twenty years, she said. But I’d spotted the framed photo of old Dan on the wall behind the bar before I ever got talking to her. And I took a picture on my phone of the plaque underneath it. See for yourself.’
Kimber put his smartphone on the table and scrolled through various images, then, finding the one he wanted, turned the phone round and slid it across to Wada.
Daniel Perlman appeared in his photograph as a leathery old salt, with crew-cut white hair, a face lined like dried mud, bright blue eyes and a spirited grin. The plaque beneath read Dan Perlman, 6.16.1927–10.10.2005 – in command of the Flight Deck for nearly fifty years. So, it was incontrovertibly true that he hadn’t been dead for more than twenty years. And it seemed unlikely his widow would make a mistake on such a point.
‘When did Clyde Braxton die?’
‘July of 2005.’ Kimber cocked an eyebrow at Wada as he replied. ‘And three months later his old foe Dan Perlman meets with a fatal accident. Which sort of amounts to Rinzaki “doing something useful” about him, albeit too late to be of any value to Clyde.’
‘With this date, I should be able to find out what kind of accident befell him.’
‘And if it looks iffy – as I’d bet it will?’
‘Then it is possible I may be able to learn something from his widow and daughter that you were not.’
‘Yeah.’ Kimber smiled. ‘I’d bet on that as well.’
It was when they’d left the restaurant and started walking through Ginza towards Kimber’s hotel, the Imperial, that he said, ‘I admit I don’t know what Rinzaki’s objective really is. But I’m damn sure it doesn’t bode well for me. So, I’m going to do everything I can to block him. There’s something deep and dangerous at the root of all this, Wada. People have died. We need to know what it’s really about.’
‘I agree,’ said Wada. ‘I would suggest you try to charm Otonashi into letting slip something that might lead us to the answer.’
‘OK. I’ll do my best. Meanwhile, you’ll be doing your best to find out as much as you can here?’
‘Yes. I will report any progress I make. And you will do the same?’
‘Sure. But you’ll watch your back, won’t you? I get the feeling this could turn ugly for you.’
‘I go where the case takes me.’
‘Yeah? Well, you don’t want that carved on your tombstone, do you?’
‘I do not need to worry about that.’
‘You don’t?’
‘My name is already carved on the family gravestone. All that will happen when my ashes are buried there is that they will remove the red paint from my name to show I am no longer living.’
‘Your name’s already on the gravestone?’
‘Yes. It is more economical to inscribe the names of the living as well as the dead, with the living painted red – for the duration of their lives.’
‘You find that … comforting?’
‘I find it practical. And I am comfortable with practicality.’
‘Right.’
They walked on in silence for a while.
