Exposure (17 page)

The question was clearly directed at Charlie, who up until this point had remained stoically silent.

He spoke calmly, his voice showing that he was in control of himself – unlike Bill, who looked like he was about to have a stroke.

“I was hired to fly a helicopter to and from a specific location in Carmel, California. Bill, here, and two other men were hired to find and transport someone I assumed to be a US citizen and take him to a secure location. It was supposed to be an anonymous job and it was just coincidence that I recognised Bill. And that was it. I never heard anything about the job again – until now. For some reason, after all this time, this job has become… of concern. Helene and I have been followed since we left Britain...”

Helene looked up when she heard this – it was certainly news to her.

“We need to find out why,” Charlie continued. “And Bill, rather reluctantly, gave us a clue as to how we might find one of the other members of the team: someone who might have information we can use. We believe him to be in Kotohira. That’s why we’re here. That’s the whole story.”

Mr Matsumoto nodded.

“Not quite the whole story, I think. What is your involvement, Miss La Borde?”

“I’m a reporter,” she said. “I got mixed up in this through a foolish and idle boast and now Mr Paget and I are working together to our mutual advantage.”

“She’s a goddam reporter!” shouted Bill. “How much more do you need to hear? She could blow everything!”

Bill really must be as dense as he looked to keep on interrupting Mr Matsumoto, trying to give him orders. Even though she felt herself to be neck deep in trouble, Helene couldn’t help thinking that Bill was skating on very thin ice.

Mr Matsumoto ignored the outburst, his bodyguards maintaining their flanking position.

“You wish me to believe, Miss La Borde, that you have no interest in my business?”

“No! I’m sorry but I’ve never even heard of you before. Bill… he never mentioned your name, I swear it. I don’t even know what it is you do – except that you have this beautiful ryokan. But,” she said, raising her eyes to meet his flat, black stare, “I believe I can now begin to guess who and what you are – if not what you do, exactly. But my primary concern – my only concern – is to solve this mystery… so I can go home again.”

Her answer seemed to please Mr Matsumoto because he smiled suddenly. It was like seeing a hungry wolf lick your hand instead of tearing out your throat.

“May I offer you some tea?” he said politely. “O-cha? Matcha? Or you prefer European black tea, perhaps?”

“Thank you,” said Helene, “I would like some Ocha, please: I find it very refreshing.”

Out of the corner of her eye Helene saw Charlie give her a tiny smile.

“And Mr Paget? Coffee, perhaps? I understand it is your beverage of choice.”

“Thank you, but Ocha is fine. Helene’s instincts are usually right on these things,” said Charlie.

Helene wasn’t quite sure what he meant by this but was in no position to ask him. It seemed like a vote of confidence.

Mr Matsumoto clapped his hands and shot out an order. Helene thought Bill was going to have a heart attack: this was not what he’d expected at all.

“I hope you have been enjoying my country,” said Mr Matsumoto conversationally while they waited for the tea to arrive.

“Oh yes!” said Helene with real warmth.

The words tumbled out of her mouth uncontrollably, a verbal torrent. She tended to talk when she was nervous. Now was definitely one of those times.

“We visited the most beautiful park yesterday: it must look magnificent when the cherry blossom is out. But I think the maple trees were my favourite part. It must be wonderful to see them in the Autumn.”

She stopped, remembering that this was very far from a normal conversation. Perhaps some atavistic part of her recognised that engaging with Mr Matsumoto might help save her. Might.

“Do you have a garden at home, perhaps?” said Mr Matsumoto. “The English are great gardeners, I believe, although I have not been fortunate enough to visit your country.”

Helene sighed.

“Sadly, I have no skill as a gardener although I do have a small garden. But my neighbour, an elderly man, seems to do magic with my dog roses.”

Strange, she thought. She felt utterly detached. The part of her body that recognised danger was screaming at her to run, but another part felt calm and matter-of-fact. It was surreal to be discussing horticulture with a man that she still thought was going to kill her. It was almost an out-of-body experience, watching herself chat to Mr Matsumoto.

Mayumi entered carrying a large tray, whilst Mr Matsumoto expressed his delight with Helene’s description of the scent of her dog roses on a summer evening.

“Ah!” he said, as the tea was served from a delicate blue tea-pot. “You have met my daughter Mayumi.”

Mayumi smiled and bowed.

“Yeah, dad. Just like you asked me to.”

Helene stared. It was Mayumi, but the sweet, hesitant school girl seemed to have been replaced by an older, harder woman, although still very beautiful. Now they were together, Helene could see the family resemblance – something about the eyes. But now Mayumi had no trace of an accent.

“Please forgive our little subterfuge,” said Mr Matsumoto, clearly following the direction of Helene’s thoughts. “I thought it would make things simpler; and Mayumi is so good at greeting people.”

Helene tried to smile. It was a rather wry attempt.

“She had us fooled; she’s a credit to you, Mr Matsumoto.”

He beamed and indicated that Helene should drink her tea. There were three cups: one for Mr Matsumoto, one for Helene and one for Charlie. Neither Bill nor the heavies were offered refreshment and Mayumi left after kissing her father on the cheek and bowing respectfully. She left without looking at Helene again, although she cast an appraising glance at Charlie.

Helene sipped the tea with trembling hands. She felt herself reviving slightly as the hot liquid eased its way down her parched throat. But increased awareness also made everything seem more terrifying.

The cup rattled as she tried to place it back on the tiny saucer.

“Now,” said Mr Matsumoto, his voice changing tempo again, “to business. I find myself with a dilemma. My employee,” he nodded towards Bill, “would like me to dispose of you. He has indicated that a number of painful methods might be used. In his own way he is quite inventive.”

Helene sloshed some tea over her hand, although it was some seconds before she realised it had scalded her.

“He seems to have some deep resentment to you, Miss La Borde. I wonder why that might be?”

Bill leered at her.

“I... I don’t know,” stuttered Helene, her eyes drawn to Bill like a rabbit in the headlights.

“Mr Paget, you are a professional, are you not?” said Mr Matsumoto, turning to Charlie. “It is most surprising to me that you left William unharmed during your… encounter in Hawaii.”

Bill unthinkingly rubbed himself where Charlie’s boot had done the most damage.

“Please tell me why this is,” continued Mr Matsumoto.

“Helene asked me not to.”

“Ah, so?” said Mr Matsumoto raising his eyebrows in polite disbelief.

Charlie saw that he needed to expand on his answer.

“Helene is a good person: she is not a murderer. She is not... like us.”

“I ain’t no murderer!” yelled Bill, leaning threateningly towards Charlie. “That’s a goddam lie! I never killed no-one that didn’t need killing.”

A hidden signal sent the two bodyguards lunging towards Bill. At that point he completely lost control: he was spitting and swearing, his eyes rolling in his head like a jellied pinball machine.

Mr Matsumoto stared at him in some distaste as the bodyguards forced him to his knees.

“The issue is one of loyalty,” said Mr Matsumoto calmly, pulling his eyes from Bill as if the sight contaminated his vision. “Bill has confirmed in his own words that he took part in this ‘job’ you have described – at a time when he was employed by me. I am not happy that he, as you might say, was moonlighting. And now he has brought his shame to my door. He has brought both of you to my door – and I must decide what to do with you.”

He turned to Helene.

“I would like you to wait outside, Miss La Borde. Mr Paget, please remain where you are.”

“Oh, but...” Helene looked in panic at Charlie.

“Yes, go,” he said, gently. “It’ll be okay.”

Helene’s legs didn’t feel up to the job of getting her out of the room but she managed to stagger to the door and half fall through it. She stumbled to one of the futon couches and sat shaking, tears running down her face.

She heard a single shot and her heart jolted painfully.

Chapter 12

Seconds stretched intolerably as Helene waited. She was barely aware that her nails were leaving half-moon gouges in the palms of her hands, violent tremors making her body shudder.

The door slid open. Helene could hardly bear to look up.

The first bodyguard walked out backwards and the second followed. Between them swung a carcass, wrapped in the rather good rug that had decorated Mr Matsumoto’s office floor. Helene’s eyes were drawn hypnotically to the swinging body.

After a short absence, the lighter of the bodyguards returned and jerked his head authoritatively at Helene. She was to go back in.

Her knees felt oddly liquid and she held onto the wall for support, her heart pounding.

The room was much as she had left it. Mr Matsumoto was seated behind the desk, the lone heavy took his place, guarding the door... and Charlie was finishing his tea. Of Bill there was no sight.

Helene tried to take in what she was seeing but her body was having trouble processing the scene. Charlie stood up swiftly and gently led her back to the chair.

Mr Matsumoto waited until she was seated again and then spoke.

“My family has built up our business interests over several generations. Loyalty is rewarded: employees who go into business for themselves are... discouraged. Those who bring the business into disrepute are dealt with.”

It was clearly an explanation for Bill’s absence. Helene’s eyes fluttered to a spot on the floor where a few spots of a dark liquid had been hastily wiped away.

“A pity,” said Mr Matsumoto, following her eyes. “The rug was commissioned by my father.”

Helene didn’t know if this was some attempt at humour but questions unborn died in her throat. This man, sitting here so calmly, had just taken – or ordered to be taken – a human life. Helene had seen death in the hot fire of battle, in sudden and terrifying conflagrations of metal and flesh: she had never before witnessed murder. Except, of course, Mr Matsumoto had been careful in that respect. She had witnessed nothing and thus had nothing to report – or regret.

“You look unwell, Miss La Borde,” he said, solicitously. “Perhaps you would like some more tea?”

Mr Matsumoto indicated towards the teapot and Helene realised that she was still gripping the sides of her chair, her knuckles white, her face frozen with shock.

Charlie leaned forward and poured some of the fragrant green tea into Helene’s eggshell thin cup, earning a small frown from Mr Matsumoto.

“I have been having a most interesting conversation with Mr Paget,” said Mr Matsumoto, looking away from Helene’s shaking hands. “I believe I can help you… both of you.”

“Why?”

Helene stuttered out the word before she realised she had spoken.

“Why, Miss La Borde?” he replied, raising his eyebrows. “Because you are a guest in my home and in my country. And because I can. And, if I am truthful, because your search does not impinge on my business interests.”

He paused, cocking his head to one side like a small bird, the black eyes watching her thoughtfully.

“Do you not wish for my help?”

Helene wanted to scream out, No! You’re a murderer! A crime lord! I want nothing to do with you or your kind.

Instead she mumbled numbly, “Thank you. That is very… kind.”

Her brain felt anaesthetised, but it was enough for Mr Matsumoto. He nodded.

“I am a businessman, Miss La Borde. That is all. The sooner your business is concluded, the sooner I can again concentrate on mine.”

Charlie made her jump when he reached over to squeeze her hand softly.

“Mr Matsumoto is going to help us, Helene. Tomorrow we’ll visit the shrine. If the priests know anything, Mr Matsumoto says they will tell us. okay?”

Helene nodded dumbly.

Mr Matsumoto clapped his hands. Business was over.

“And now,” he said, “I understand that you would like to try our delightful tradition of onsen bathing. We have some of the best hot springs on the island. I would be happy for you to be my guest this evening. You will find everything you need in your rooms.”

He stood up and held out his hand in the western style.

“It has been a pleasure to meet you, Miss La Borde, Mr Paget. I trust you will spend a pleasant night in my ryokan.”

They shook hands and were escorted from the room.

Helene was having trouble remembering to breathe. Her skin felt unpleasantly moist and a sheen of sweat glistened on her face.

“What… what happened in there, Charlie?”

He looked at her carefully.

“A loose end was tied up. That’s all.”

She stared at him.

“How can you be so calm? A man was murdered in front of your eyes and… and…”

“And what, Helene?” he said, in a sharp whisper. “Would you rather it had been me… or you?”

Helene looked appalled at the thought.

“No! Of course not, but…”

“But nothing. Bill was a murderer, a rapist and a bad businessman. There was nothing either of us could do for him. Jesus, Helene, you gave him one big, fat chance when we left him alone in Hawaii but he didn’t take it. You just can’t help some people. No, forget about Bill and just be grateful that we’re standing here having this conversation instead of you waving me a fond farewell as you sail towards St Peter’s Gate – and I don’t.”

Helene wasn’t sure how serious he was being but she could see he was trying to help her.

“I’ll put in a good word for you with St Peter,” she said, trying to match his easy tone – and failing miserably.