Collector of Secrets (25 page)

“You’ve shamed me. You know the rules.” The words resonated in the windowless room.

Without hesitation, Hiro place his right hand on the table. Palm down. His fingers were spread wide. His face remained bowed.

It suddenly became clear to Jun where the dark spots on the wooden table had come from. His troubled eyes locked on Oto’s angry face as he placed his own trembling hand on the table.

“Not you! It’s your
Sempai
’s responsibility to take the blame for this.”

Jun snatched his hand back and held it close to his groin.

Oto pulled the knife from the table. He seemed to be drawing out the moment, as if savoring the taste of a fine wine.

“I will give you one more chance to redeem yourself. Catch the girl for me.” The lone light bulb glinted off the shiny metal blade. “You can catch a little girl, can’t you?”

Suddenly the blade sliced through air and bone, slamming hard against the table.

A
howling scream of agony tore upward, twisting and echoing its way through the parkade. At street level, a lone attendant listened and shuddered before sliding the window of his booth closed.

TOSHI TOOK two crystal glasses from the cupboard while Max stood in the open kitchen doorway. The shaggy blond hair and pale skin were gone. He eyed his reflection in a hallway mirror while towel-drying his short brown hair, unsure of whether the right decision had been made. “I think that drugstore tanning lotion worked too well. I look like George Hamilton.”

“Who?”

“Never mind.”

“Changing appearances will do little.” Toshi shrugged as he spoke. “You’re still too tall.”

“At least I won’t resemble the police mug shot.” Max hoped the transformation would also reduce his growing feelings of paranoia. “I really appreciate you letting us stay here tonight. I couldn’t risk staying another night in a busy hotel.” He leaned against the wall. “Plus, I saw the pair of cameras out front and I think this place is probably more secure.”

“My father was a very cautious man. He put in security systems.” Toshi cracked open a bottle of whiskey. “In the end, it did no good. They killed him in public, on the subway.”

“They?” Max’s head jerked up. “Who are they?”

“I have theories.” Toshi handed over three fingers of amber liquid. “Drink this.”

“It’s only two o’clock.” Max’s voice registered mild surprise.

“After everything that’s happened?”

“True enough. It’s hard to believe that three days ago I was minding my own business, and now . . .” Goose bumps raced up Max’s arms. “I never realized how violent this place could be.”

“You’ve seen what you’ve been told to see: sushi, karaoke, capsule hotels, geishas, and sumo wrestling.” Toshi sighed. “You haven’t moved beneath the surface. This country has both good and bad. It shouldn’t be a shock.” He raised his glass. “Let’s drink a toast . . . to understanding our weaknesses and making them strengths.”

The liquid bit hard on its way down and Max was forced to take a deep breath before speaking. “Surviving this is gonna take more than just strength. It’s gonna take a miracle.”

Toshi stroked the vertical strip of hair beneath his lip and his eyes grew unfocused, as if he were watching something in the center of the room that was only visible to him. “Sometimes the spirits require us to do things we don’t think possible. It’s how we grow and find who we truly are.”

“But people aren’t usually dying as a result.” Max’s chest swelled. “Tomoko’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” His words grew hushed. “If she ends up getting hurt, I could never forgive myself.”

“I understand. So the question you must ask is . . . what was the single thing that set the current chain of events in motion?”

Max thought back to the moment as he crouched in Mr. M’s dark office. “Going to the office and then grabbing the daypack. I should have never picked that damned thing up.”

Toshi sipped his drink. “The
Yakuza
probably wouldn’t have chased you, and the policeman may not have noticed you.”

“I know where you’re going with this, and trust me, I’ve thought of returning the stuff to Mr. M. But what if he doesn’t believe me? What if he blames me for the robbery and all the damage?”

“But if he does believe you, he can tell the police to close the case. He may also have a way of helping with the
Yakuza
. The man was a diplomat, after all.” Toshi took another sip. “If you want, you could leave the diary with me and I could return it for you.”

“Thank you. That’s incredibly generous.” The offer seemed sincere, and the urge to seize it so tempting, but one completely innocent person was already dead. Max was resolute not to make it two. “No. You’ve already done way too much for us. I can’t let you do that.”

M
iki’s head seemed overly large on Toshi’s wall-mounted fifty-inch flat-screen monitor. Still, Tomoko had been relieved to see her friend’s face.

“And they killed her?” Miki was still gasping when she finally lifted her fingers away from her mouth.“You have to go to the police!”

“I know! But Max is convinced the police will charge him with the break-in.” Tomoko’s tear-filled eyes stared back. “And he thinks they’re all connected to the
Yakuza
.”

“That’s just stupid.” The two friends nodded together in agreement. “So where are you hiding?”

“With a friend of Max’s, a Shinto priest. He seems like a good guy.” Tomoko wiped her eyes with a tissue. “But I don’t know what to do next. I need to make sure my parents are fine, although I’m afraid to call home. What if Max is right? What if contacting them just adds to the danger? Their phone must be bugged. It’s the only way the
Yakuza
could have found us at the
onsen
. Mrs. Kanazawa must have talked with my mom and told her where I was.”

“You need to go home and warn them!”

“I know.” The response caught in her throat. “Max doesn’t understand how much I love them. How could he? He’s not close to his own family. He can’t know how I feel.”

“Then use my little trick.” Miki leaned closer to the camera, further distending her image on the big screen. “Tell him what he wants to hear . . . and then do whatever you need to do. He’ll get over it.”

Silence hung in the air while the two girlfriends stared anxiously at each other. Miki finally sat back, changing the subject. “I followed up on the information you asked for.”

“You found where the prince lives?”

The corners of Miki’s mouth crept into a grin as she swept the blonde hair away from her face. “I know I’m fabulous, and we can talk about that later, but I have to warn you, it’s not good news. Visiting Prince Takeda will be a little difficult, since he died in 1992 at the age of eighty-three.”

Tomoko’s head dropped into her cupped hands. She felt like crying.

Miki continued, “Prince Tsuneyoshi Takeda owned an estate in Chiba Prefecture that was sold by his family after he died. There was also one other property. It’s near Osaka, in the mountains outside the old western capital city of Nara. It wasn’t part of the family estate, but was transferred separately to someone named Ben Takeda. Interestingly enough, the prince had five children, but none named Ben.” Miki rifled through a stack of loose papers and pressed the page with the address toward the camera.

Tomoko grabbed a scrap of yellow paper to copy the information. Something was tingling in the back of her mind, and she struggled to figure out what it was. “Did you find out any more about this Ben person?”

“How long have you known me? Of course I did. Ben was adopted by Prince Takeda in September 1947, just before the prince became a commoner. But the documents were signed only by the prince, and not his wife. The archives don’t show a birthplace, but the boy was ten years old at the time. It’s really strange, actually. There’s nothing I can find to explain why this boy was adopted.” She shrugged. “Maybe he was a child from a mistress.”

Tomoko’s eyes shot wide. “Or maybe . . .” She unzipped the daypack at her feet and retrieved the diary. Opening the leather jacket, she carefully scanned the last few pages.

“What is it?”

“Just a moment . . . here it is. I knew I remembered something. After the war, the prince brought back a child named Benjie from the Philippines. Ben could be short for Benjie, right?”

“Yeah. But why do that?”

“I’m not sure exactly, but his diary says that just before the prince returned to Japan, he found a child named Benjie, and he brought the boy back with him.”

“Strange.” Miki motioned to her watch. “I’m sorry, but I have to get back to work.”

There was a knock at the office door, and Max slipped into the room. Tomoko motioned for him to come forward as she deftly switched to English. “Wait, Miki, this is my boyfriend.”

“Hi, I’m Max.” He leaned in and nodded to the camera.

“But his hair? The color?”

“It was my idea to change it.” Tomoko ran a hand across Max’s damp head. “He needs a disguise, and I think I like it.”

Miki nodded. “I must go, but be careful, and remember my little trick.” She giggled, effectively masking the seriousness of the parting comment. “Bye-bye.”

M
iki’s face was reflected dozens of times on the surface of the multifaceted crystal drinking glass. In the semi-dark bedroom, Toshi drained the remaining drops of scotch. Reaching forward, he stopped the recorded image while he wrote down the Nara address.

Opening the house’s security software, he scrolled to view the live feed coming from the office. The image on the screen enlarged and stabilized. Tomoko was handing the diary to Max, pointing and relaying the details of her conversation.

Sitting straight-backed, Toshi stroked the hair on his chin, observing the private conversation.

ZOE DRAGGED a hand through her spiky platinum hair. After the previous day’s violent police raid, she was in no mood for visitors. From the second floor of the Tokyo Poor House, she scowled and eyed the annoyingly persistent man at the front door, keeping her face well back from the window to avoid being seen.

Dressed in a navy sports coat, he wasn’t making any motion to kick his way in, but he also didn’t appear to be giving up and leaving. For the third time, his knuckles rapped on the door. She cringed as she heard a bedroom door slide open.

Zoe moved quickly to the stairs and descended. She could see the injured Israeli stop near the middle of the hallway. He slowly turned his bandaged head to look back at her. “Itzhak, go back to bed. I’ll answer the door.”

The man banged on the door again. It sounded as if he was using his whole fist now.

Zoe yelled over her shoulder while guiding Itzhak back to his room. “Hang on a freakin’ minute.” Turning and stomping down the hallway, she pulled the front door open, revealing a handsome, middle-aged man. His hair, parted straight down the center, along with his horn-rimmed glasses, gave him an odd bookish quality. “What do you want?”

“D
on’t mean to disturb you, ma’am. My name is Lloyd, and I’m from the U.S. Embassy.”

Zoe’s eyes overflowed with distrust. “So embassy people don’t have last names?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. My last name is Elgin. Here’s my card.” The role of the polite, down-home American was one he’d played many times before. He didn’t have to work very hard to add a Southern twang to his voice. It felt like sliding into a second skin.