Exposure (19 page)

“Hello, Charlie,” he said.

Chapter 13

So the man knew Charlie’s name. Was that because Mr Matsumoto had told him, or because Charlie had lied about there being ‘no name-no pack drill’? Helene couldn’t decide – which meant that deep down she still didn’t trust him.

The priest motioned to them to step outside: either because he wanted to talk in daylight or perhaps because he was afraid they’d sully the shrine.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said.

“No,” said Charlie. “None of us did.”

After a brief pause, the priest held his hand out and the two men shook hands. Charlie introduced Helene but it seemed that the priest and Mayumi were old friends. Interesting.

“I’ll leave you to it,” she said. “I’ve got some business for dad. I’ll see you later.”

Helene wondered what sort of ‘business’ the daughter of Yakuza might have at a Shinto shrine and Buddhist temple. But she wasn’t going to argue; she was too glad to see her go – that beautiful face was unsettling now Helene knew who and what it belonged to.

She turned her attention to the priest.

He was a man of middle height between thirty and forty, stocky build with hazel eyes that slanted upwards ever so slightly, lending his face a subtle, cat-like quality. It was the same when he moved: silkily, but assured. She could imagine him being an effective soldier but the expression on his face was peaceful: a man at ease with himself.

“What shall I call you?” said Helene.

“I go by the name Kazuma now,” he said. “It means ‘harmony’.”

“Is that what you have achieved here?” asked Helene, not sure how to proceed with this potentially bizarre conversation.

The man’s lips made a slight moué – of amusement, perhaps.

“Life is a journey: mine is not yet complete – even the wishes of an ant reach to heaven.”

Helene smiled back. Instead of being irritated by his opacity, she found his company soothing.

“I’m afraid,” she said, “that Charlie and I have come a long way to interrupt your harmony. Will you talk to us about California three years ago? We’ve already spoken to Bill…” she hesitated… “and we wanted to speak to you – and the Third Man – if we can find him.”

The priest stared into the distance, his gaze taking in the trees, the valley and the clouds hovering behind the distant mountains.

“I don’t like to talk about things that happened then,” the priest said at last. “I was a different person; coming here has allowed me this second chance.”

He paused and Helene sensed that she wasn’t the only one holding her breath.

The priest went on slowly, “My faith teaches me: ‘Our eyes might see un-cleanliness, but let not our minds see un-cleanliness. Our ears might hear un-cleanliness, but let not our minds hear un-cleanliness.’ I have done many unclean things in my former life and now I must atone for them.”

He looked directly at Charlie.

“I believe,” said the priest, “that to commit evil is to be impure: those killed without being shown gratitude for their sacrifice will hold a grudge and become a powerful and evil kami. This unquiet spirit will seek revenge. To do good is to be pure. I have a lot of good left to do.”

Helene tried to untangle the meaning behind his words.

“So… you’ll help us?” said Helene. “We just want to get our lives back.”

“Is that right?” said the priest.

He cast a long glance at Charlie whose expression was veiled. Then the priest looked at Helene, his own gaze direct and open.

“What do you want to know?” he said.

Helene breathed a sigh of relief.

“Can you tell us who the man was that you kidnapped three years ago?” she said.

“No,” he said. “I didn’t know then and I don’t know now. But…”

Helene allowed herself a glimmer of hope.

“But you’re not the first person to ask me this. As Charlie can tell you, when a job is done the mercs don’t talk about it afterwards: it’s safer for their clients and safer for them. Someone with loose lips doesn’t last long in that business. I haven’t spoken about California to anyone, but a month ago the person you call the Third Man came to see me. He thought he’d recognised the target – the man we took, but he wasn’t sure. He showed me a photograph but I couldn’t be certain.”

“Do you have the photo that he showed you?” said Helene.

The priest shook his head.

“No, he wouldn’t let me keep it: said it was too dangerous. But sincerity is a witness to truth.”

Then the priest smiled.

“But I drew a picture of the photo he showed me and what I remembered about the man: I somehow thought I might need it one day. It seems that the day has now come.”

From his robes, he pulled out a scrap of paper that had been folded many times. He passed it to Helene, throwing a glance at Charlie that Helene couldn’t interpret.

She unfolded the sheet with clumsy hands but it wasn’t the revelation she’d hoped for. The lively pencil sketch was of a middle aged man with thinning hair and a goatee beard, the face thin with haunted eyes. She didn’t recognise him.

She showed the picture to Charlie.

“Do you know him?”

Charlie shook his head.

“No, I never saw him before; I mean, I don’t recognise his face.”

It was a crushing disappointment: Helene had been so sure that seeing the kidnap victim’s face would answer the questions that were piling up.

Helene stared at the priest thoughtfully.

“But the Third Man: he thought he knew this guy. Who did he think it was? Did he give you any clue?”

The priest shook his head slowly.

“No-o. Once he saw that I didn’t know anything more, he clammed up. But I’m pretty certain this guy must have had something to do with IT because that’s Hassan’s field.”

“Hassan?”

Helene looked at him, hope flowering again.

“The Third Man,” said the priest. “His name is Hassan Ali. These days he has a legit computer security firm that operates out of offices in Riyadh and Dubai. Does that help?”

“Oh, I could kiss you!” said Helene, then realised what she’d said.

“Er, sorry, priests probably aren’t supposed to be kissed,” she stuttered.

He smiled broadly.

“Not at all! We’re allowed to marry – and I rather like being kissed now you mention it.”

Helene laughed but leaned forward to plant a demure kiss on the priest’s cheek. Then she carefully re-folded the sketch and stuffed it into her back pocket.

“Even in one single leaf on a tree, or in one blade of grass, the awesome Deity presents itself,” said the priest in response.

Charlie stood up, too.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but thanks for everything, mate.”

They shook hands again and turned to leave.

“There’s one more thing you should know,” said the priest. “I’ve known Hassan for a long time: it’s one of the reasons he came to see me. The people who hired us didn’t know we knew each other and we preferred to keep it that way. We didn’t know you, Charlie, and the other guy seemed like a weak link, so we kept schtum. But when Hassan was here he was on edge and he thought he was being watched. It takes a lot to rattle that guy. And I’ll tell you something else that didn’t make sense to me – maybe it’ll make sense to you. He said: ‘I can’t believe he worked for them’. It sounded so weird, it stuck in my mind. Does it mean anything to you?”

Helene and Charlie shook their heads. The priest shrugged.

“Well, sorry I couldn’t help more. Good luck, you guys. Remember: sincerity is the mother of knowledge.”

He re-entered the shrine and sank to his knees, a sculpture once more in prayer.

Helene was excited, a fluttering of hope making the blood run more swiftly through her veins.

“We have to find Hassan Ali. We’re getting closer to the truth: I can feel it.”

Charlie looked worried.

“What’s the matter?” said Helene. “We’re getting closer to solving this. This is good news! Isn’t it?”

“Yah, I guess. But what worries me is that Hassan visited Kazuma a month ago – three weeks before we got involved.”

Helene was stopped in her tracks.

“Oh God! You’re right.”

The realisation was more than disconcerting. Helene sat down again, the air knocked from her lungs.

She pressed her fingers to her temple.

“Let me think: let’s go over the chain of events,” she said. “A month ago Hassan either sees the man he kidnapped – the man he
thinks
he kidnapped – or a photo of him. For some reason this encounter – or photo – worries him. But he’s not sure it’s the same man because it was three years ago, so he brings it to Kazuma to check. So either Hassan saw this man or saw his photo – in a newspaper, perhaps. Well, he can hardly admit that he’s a kidnapper so he watches and waits to see if there are going to be any repercussions. Then he starts to think he’s being watched. He comes here to see his old buddy but Kazuma can’t help him so he leaves again. And then we parachute into the middle of whatever it is. Which makes me think… that you were being watched
before
I got involved.”

She paused to look at Charlie but he avoided her gaze.

“And there’s one more thing we know…” she continued, “we know that Hassan saw a picture of our Mystery Man somewhere unexpected because he said: ‘I can’t believe he worked for them’.”

Charlie was following her thoughts.

“Yes,” he agreed, “that implies that Mystery Man was working for someone that Hassan would never expect him to. That would make sense if…”

“If,” said Helene, “the Mystery Man was working for the US government or one of their representatives. Now what sort of a person ends up working for the people who kidnapped him in the first place?”

Charlie shrugged. “Stockholm Syndrome?”

“Unlikely,” said Helene shaking her head. “There wasn’t enough time for that to happen.”

“Maybe the kidnapping was just a warning,” said Charlie. “You know, a kind of we-can-get-to-you-anywhere warning to make him toe the line.”

“Maybe,” said Helene. “But in that case why go to the trouble of getting together four out-of-towners to do the job? Why not just hire some local talent to give him a scare? Or somebody on the payroll already? That would only make sense if it was because local people – I mean Americans – would recognise this man. So he must be somebody high profile. Or he was.”

“But he wasn’t rich,” said Charlie, “because Bill said he was living in a shack – that was the word he used, a ‘shack’.”

“Yes,” said Helene, “but a shack with a lot of high tech security. So who does that sound like?”

Charlie nodded thoughtfully.

“Someone out of the mainstream?” he suggested. “Maybe an independent who got too dangerous… maybe because of something he knew?”

Helene sighed. “It’s a possibility but it’s a lot of ‘maybes’, too. We need to find Hassan and somehow we need to get him to talk to us.”

Charlie nodded. “Okay. We’d better head back to the ryokan. I need to get us tickets and ID. It’ll take about 24 hours but Matsumoto can help us.”

Helene balked at the idea.

“We don’t need his help, do we?” she said. “I feel really uncomfortable with the idea of owing a man like that any favours… I mean, any more favours. Surely the less he knows about what we do next the better?”

Charlie shook his head.

“We don’t have a choice, Helene. And Matsumoto is not someone to cross. I would have thought even you would have realised that by now. Besides, he’s the one with the contacts in this town. If we want to move fast we’re going to need his help.”

Helene knew he was right, no matter how much she disliked the thought.

“Damn,” she said. “We should have asked Kazuma-san to send a few prayers in our direction: I think we’re going to need them.”

At that moment Mayumi reappeared.

“Speak of the devil,” muttered Helene and Charlie threw her an irritated look.

“Did you guys get what you wanted?” said Mayumi.

Charlie scratched his ear thoughtfully.

“Not sure: another piece of the puzzle, perhaps. But we’ll be pulling out as soon as we can make the arrangements.”

“Pity,” said Mayumi, eyeing him up and down as if he were a prize stud. “But there’s still plenty of time for me to show you around. Both of you, of course,” she added, looking reluctantly in Helene’s direction.

“Another time I’d be delighted, Mayumi,” said Charlie, turning the full wattage of his smile on her, “but we really need to get back and make plans. And I need to tell your father where we’re at.”

Helene threw Charlie a sharp look but it bounced off him regardless. Charlie just seemed to be a bit too cosy with his new Yakuza friend.

“Do you have wi-fi?” Helene asked Mayumi. “I’d like to get online if I can.”

“Of course,” said Mayumi, over her shoulder. “This is Japan.”

Helene walked back to the town in silence, leaving a distance of some yards between her and Mayumi and Charlie, who chatted away like old friends. Helene’s hip was hurting like blazes but she was damned if she’d let either of them know.

Her thoughts and feelings had done another revolution since Kazuma had revealed the date of Hassan’s visit. The great weight of guilt had fallen away on learning that it wasn’t her involvement that had interrupted Charlie’s sabbatical. It might have speeded things up though…

Back at the onsen Mayumi and Charlie went their separate ways. Even at a distance Helene could sense the frisson of regret. Charlie jogged to catch her up.

“You’re very quiet,” he said.

“True,” said Helene. “I’ve got a lot to think about.”

He cast a sideways glance at her. “Any conclusions?”

Helene shook her head.

“Not really. Other than that we have to find Hassan and persuade him to speak to us. The fact that Kazuma has helped us is in our favour but other than that we can’t guarantee Hassan will tell us anything… well, we’ll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it.”

He followed her into her room. Helene felt irked by his too casual assumption of invitation. She lowered herself carefully to one of the floor cushions and eased her aching hip into a cross-legged position, then opened the laptop. It hadn’t occurred to her to try to hide it – not in a Yakuza-owned guesthouse. Besides there wasn’t anything about their business that Matsumoto didn’t seem to know.