Linnear 03 - White Ninja (50 page)

'Yes.'

'I don't remember seeing any neck bruises in the photos of Mariko's corpse.'

'You've got an excellent memory,' Tomi said, impressed all over again. 'There weren't any.'

Nangi moved the cane over, began tapping the pipe rhythmically now. 'It is also approximately where the neck of the person who tortured and murdered Mariko would be when he was raping her.'

"That's logical,' Tomi said. She was at a loss as to where this was leading.

Nangi had his free hand beneath the pipe. He kept tapping the pipe with the head of his cane, then pulled up a chair, lowered himself into it.

Tomi sat up and he poured what was in his hand into hers. Tomi looked at it. It was rust. She looked up at Nangi. 'So the pipe is rusty. That's only normal for a dump like this.'

'Exactly,' Nangi said, 'but come here. Look at the spot that was just above your neck.'

Tomi rose, stood on tiptoe. 'There's no rust there.'

'The only spot on the pipe where that's so,' Nangi said.

Tomi turned to him. 'Do you know what this means?'

'I'm afraid I'm getting to know this murderer far better than I'd like to.'

'What on earth do you mean?'

'I've made the connection between Df Hanami's and Mariko's deaths,' Nangi said. 'To understand, you must recall the note found on the unfortunate girl's body.'

' "This could be your wife".'

'Yes. I told you I thought it was a warning. Now I know it to be a warning for Dr Hanami. He was being blackmailed by the tanjian, the dorokusai.'

'Are you telling me that this tanjian who attacked

me and Mr Linnear in Dr Hanami's office is the same person who murdered Mariko?'

'Tortured, raped and murdered her, to use your own words,' Nangi said. 'Yes, that's precisely what I'm telling you.'

'But how could you possibly know that?'

'This told me.' Nangi tapped the shiny spot on the horizontal pipe. 'This was made by a rope, weighted at one end, abrading the metal, flaking off the rust.' Tomi remembered the line buried in the forensic report about flecks of rust found on some of Mariko's wounds, specifically around her upper torso. 'The dorokusai will use a specific methodology, self-asphyxiation, during the sex act.'

'But there's no such term as self-asphyxiation,' Tomi pointed out. 'Long before death, the autonomous nervous system will kick in. The person's grip on the rope will loosen, and he will continue to breathe.'

'Oh, yes, true,' Nangi said. 'But even before that happens, the carbon dioxide build-up in the dorokusai will bring him close enough to death for him to achieve orgasm.'

'It's disgusting.'

'It's part of his training. He practises it regularly - not only during the sex act - until it becomes as basic as aiki taiso in aikido,' Nangi said. 'It is another area in which the tanjian are taught to attack the Void.'

Tomi hardly heard Nangi now. Something had caught in her mind. She fought to bring it to the surface, but it slipped away from her and was gone.

Nangi, watching the intensity of her expression, wanted to ask her what was on her mind, decided to observe instead.

In a moment, there was a knock on the door. Tomi opened it. The owner-manager of The Silk Road stood in the dim light of the busy hallway.

'Back after so long, Detective? This is a surprise. I thought the case had been closed,' the man said/bowing with exaggerated humility. 'Can I be of service in some way?'

Tomi stepped back, beckoned him inside.

He looked around the room, taking stock, as if needing to assure himself that they had not appropriated anything. He was a thin, weaselly individual with bad breath and an obsequious manner.

Tomi had taken an immediate dislike to him, and nothing about her subsequent relationship with him had changed her mind. In fact, as she studied his anxious face now, a door clicked open in her mind. She began to suspect that there might be something here that she had overlooked or had been deliberately hidden from her. Now she thought that Nangi's presence might give her a chance to find out.

Td like to ask you a few questions,' Tomi said.

'Again?' The weasel made washing motions with his hands. 'But of course.' He frowned. 'But after all this time I can't imagine what it is you expect to find-'

'This is Tanzan Nangi,' Tomi said, ignoring him. 'He's a professor of psychological criminology at Todai.' She meant Tokyo University. 'He's begun studying the case. Professor Nangi has developed a theory concerning the case that he would like to try out.'

She waited until the weasel's oily eyes flicked from Nangi back to her. 'How long have you been managing The Silk Road?'

'Six years,' the weasel said. 'But you already know this, Detective.'

"This is for the professor's benefit,' she assured him. 'And is that the same amount of time that you've owned the club?'

'No, I bought it seventeen months later. But you already know -'

'How did you originally obtain financing for this establishment?'

'But this is all old ground, Detective.' Hie weasel's hands were working overtime, washing themselves. 'I obtained a loan from a local bank. As collateral, I put up the assets of my small sales business;'

'How long was the dancer, Mariko, working here?'

"Three years, almost,' the weasel said. He addressed Nangi now. 'She was quiet, a hard worker. And the patrons liked her. She never missed a show, never complained. I have a daughter who gave me more trouble than Mariko ever did.'

The three of them waited in the silence of the tiny ferroconcrete room, as small as a doset, as large as a tomb of the wealthy. The muffled rhythmic thump of the electronic bass, the pulsing of an evil heart, was a constant reminder of where they were.

When Tomi could no longer tolerate the oppressive sense of despair inhabiting the room like a kami, she said to the weasel, 'That will be all.'

The weasel looked stricken. 'I thought - I mean, I was hoping to witness the development of the professor's theory. After all, Mariko worked for me. She was like family.'

Tomi controlled a desire to spit in the weasel's face. She said, 'We'll call you if we need you.'

When they were alone, Nangi said, 'What was that with the professor from Todai all about?'

'I'm not sure,' Tomi said. 'A hunch, maybe. You stay here, see what you can uncover. I want to see what that weasel's up to. Something in his face when he saw you made me suspicious.'

'Haven't you already run a check on him?' Nangi asked.

'Yes, and I found nothing in the police computer. Still, when I saw how he reacted just now I decided to put him to a test. It's simple, almost crude, but maybe it worked.'

She slipped out of the room, feeling an uncomfortable weight lift from her chest. She moved quickly down the warren of corridors. By now she knew her way almost as well as did the girls who worked here.

At the weasel's office, she put her ear to the door, but with the muffled thump-thump-thump of the amplified bass she could hear nothing.

She tried the knob but the door was locked. It required nothing more than a paper clip bent just the right way to pop it.

Tomi took a deep breath, swung the door wide open. She saw the weasel on the phone, made a dash across the room. His eyes opened wide and his instant of hesitation was enough to allow her to lunge across his littered desk, grab the receiver before he had a chance to hang up.

'Who were you calling?' Tomi snapped.

The weasel said nothing. His face was pale. She pinned him where he sat behind his desk.

'Moshi,' she said into the mouthpiece, but she could hear nothing. She put the line on hold, punched open a second line, dialled the telephone company maintenance shop, gave them her name, rank and authorization number, told them what she wanted to know.

Within five minutes a technician was back on the line. "The call that was just made from the number you gave me was to the Metropolitan Police.'

The ensuing silence was so long that the technician said, 'Hello? Sergeant, are you still there?'

'Yes,' Tomi said hoarsely. 'Yes.' Gathering her wits. 'Can you tell me which precinct?'

"That's a snap,' the technician said. 'Uchibori-dori headquarters, the main one.' Tomi's offices.

Still in a daze, Tomi thanked the technician, put down the phone. She fought to centre herself, but thoughts kept intruding. The weasel had clearly been nervous at her reappearance. And when she had introduced Nangi as a

new player in the investigation, the weasel had become positively agitated. Then something he had said hit her like a shot:
thought the case had been closed. How would he know that? Unless he had some contact with the Metro Police?<
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Tomi, staring hard at the weasel, said, 'Who did you call?'

'My mother.'

'Your mother works for the police?'

'Yeah. She's a cleaning lady. She mops out your latrines.'

For a long moment Tomi did nothing. Then, in a lightning move, she snatched the weasel up by his lapels, slammed him against the back wall. Glass shattered in the window.

Tomi put. her face so close to his he had trouble focusing on her. 'You're going to tell me,' she said, 'or you won't leave this room.'

'Big words,' the weasel said.

Tomi jammed him backwards so hard he cried out. Blood began to seep out of his.suit as the shards of jagged window glass punctured his skin.

'Tell me who you called!'

All at once, the weasel began to weep. Sweat slid down the side of his face. 'Oh my God,' he whimpered, 'I can't. Don't you see, he'll kill me.'

'He won't have a chance,' Tomi said savagely. The glass sunk deeper into the weasel, and he gasped.

'All right,' he said, twisting and moaning in pain. 'But you'll have to protect me.'

'Who? Tell me?'

'I demand protection!'

'You're in no position to demand anything,' Tomi pointed out. 'But I'll see what I can do. Who did you call? Who were you going to tell about Professor Nangi?'

The weasel's eyes almost bugged out of his head.

'It's not so easy, damnit!' he gasped. The bastard's a division commander. He used to. come here years ago when he had been assigned this district. He worked out a deal with me so I'd allow him access to my girls, so he could do - ow, God that hurts! - so he could do what he wanted with them. I-I never - God -1 never asked what he did. I didn't want to know. Then this thing with - oh, God! - Mariko happened and I was terrified. I didn't want to be implicated in her - '

'Are you telling me that a Metropolitan Police division commander tortured, raped and murdered Mariko?' Tomi was aware that she was shouting. She didn't care.

The weasel nodded. 'Y-yes.'

Mariko, she thought, all your life you had no one. Now you have me. Your avenger.

'Who was it? Who killed her?' She was shaking him like a leaf. Bursts of adrenaline surged through her, powering her. And a glimpse into the flash of memory that had been eluding her: dim light, the tiny precinct closet, her body entangled with Senjin's. Her mouth opening on to his flesh. The taste of him and...

'Who killed Mariko? Tell me, you bastard, or I swear you won't walk out of this room alive!' A red haze behind her eyes, the memory, slippery as an eel, winking in and out of her consciousness. Nangi saying, The dorokusai will use a specific methodology, self-asphyxiation, during the sex act. It's part of his training. He practises it regularly...

'Who killed Mariko!' Working the weasel on the rack of the shattered glass fragments. The red haze deepening, Mariko, I have him for you, the memory surfacing, Senjin making love to her in the closet, she pulling aside his tie, unbuttoning his shirt so she could kiss his chest, the flesh of his neck abraded as if by a wound. A wound around his neck.

The dorokusai will use a specific methodology, self-asphyxiation. He practises it regularly...

A Metropolitan Police division commander was a tanjian, a dorokusai and, dear God, he seduced me in every way it is possible for a man to seduce a woman: he assigned me to a homicide case in which he committed the murder and coordinated the police work in its aftermath; he used me as a stalking horse to keep track of Nicholas Linnear when it would arouse suspicion for him to do it himself; he took me like an animal, in the office where even a kiss between colleagues is unthinkable. He made me break all society's rules, all my own rules as well. He made me feel elated and debased at the same time. He used his dark erotic magic on me to penetrate my mind and my flesh, to suck himself into me, to use me over and over again. And I was powerless, as powerless as Mariko must have been.

Humiliation, rage, fear, all combined inside her.

'Who killed Mariko!'

What he did to me. The abraded flesh of his neck. What he did to her.

'Who killed Mariko!'

Used like dolls made of putty he could mould into any shape, Mariko and I and how many others? My God, how many more?

'Who killed Mariko!'