Tokyo Year Zero (7 page)

These twenty mothers looking for their lost daughters –

Praying they do not find them here, in this place.

But because the bodies are at Keiō, because the autopsies have yet to be performed, because the search of the area has yet to be completed, because we have yet to formally open the investigation, Inspector Kai and I have nothing to show these twenty mothers, nothing to tell them, so Inspector Kai and I will ask our men to interview these twenty mothers, to take down the descriptions of their daughters, their heights, their weights and their ages, the places they were going, the people they were meeting, the clothes they were wearing, the bags and belongings they were carrying –

On the days they were last seen
…

The meals they had eaten –

‘But why?’ they’ll ask –

The scars they carry or the teeth they have lost or any other unique features that might help to eliminate or identify their daughters from among the rotting flesh and bleached bones we found in Shiba Park, but not today –

‘But if not today?’ these mothers ask. ‘Then when?’

Today there is no consolation for these mothers –

‘When?’ they ask, again and again…

The day after the autopsies these twenty mothers must return, these twenty mothers and the one father –

The one father in his last good suit with his hat in his hand who steps from the mothers to ask – ‘May I speak with you?’

*

‘My name is Nakamura Yoshizo and I am a grocer in Kamata. My daughter’s name is Nakamura Mitsuko. She is my only daughter. She graduated from the Aoyama Domestic Science College and she had a number of wartime jobs with the Yasuda and Taito Yokosan companies as well as some volunteer work. But she is my only daughter and so, as the situation worsened in Tokyo last year, my wife and I decided to send Mitsuko to live with her elder brother and his wife in Ibaraki Prefecture. And so, on the twelfth of July last year, she left our home in Kamata to travel to Ibaraki. Mitsuko never arrived at her brother’s house. She was twenty-two years old, but she will be twenty-three now. She is my only daughter, detective.’

‘Did you report Mitsuko missing?’ I ask him –

The father nods. The father says, ‘Of course.’

‘And what did the local police tell you?’

‘That they could find no clue…’

I open my notebook. I lick the tip of my pencil and I ask him, ‘Can you remember what clothes your daughter was wearing on the day she went missing last year?’

‘A pair of brown
monpe
trousers and a pale yellow blouse.’

‘Can you remember her footwear that day?’ I ask him.

‘A pair of traditional wooden
geta
sandals…’

‘And can you describe Mitsuko for me?’

Mitsuko’s father takes a deep breath and says, ‘She is one hundred and fifty-five centimetres tall and she weighs about fifty kilograms. She has long hair which she usually wears in two plaits. Mitsuko also wears round silver spectacles.’

In the half-light, no one forgets
…

‘Anything else?’ I ask him.

‘On the day she went missing,’ he nods. ‘She was carrying a beige-coloured cotton rucksack…’

‘And what was inside?’

‘A
bentō
lunch box.’ ‘Anything else?’

Nakamura Mitsuko’s father nods again, wipes the sweat from his face and says, ‘For her twentieth birthday, I gave her an elliptical-shaped ammonite brooch…’

No one forgets
…

I stop writing now. I close my notebook. I put away my pencil. I tell him, ‘As you know, the autopsies on the two bodies have yet to be performed. However, one of the victims died very recently and the clothing found on the other does not match that of your daughter, at least on the day she went missing. So it’s doubtful your daughter is one of these bodies…’

The father holds a handkerchief to his face. His shoulders begin to tremble –

‘It was in the newspaper,’ he whispers. ‘About the two unidentified bodies in Shiba Park and so my wife and I thought that we should…’

‘I understand,’ I tell him. ‘And I will contact you if I do find anything…’

He bows his head –

‘Thank you.’

*

The first trunk is packed and ready. Nishi and Shimoda will each take a handle. The second trunk is packed and ready. Kimura and Ishida will each take a handle. The others have got their things together. They have tidied up their loose ends. They have cleared their desks. They are ready to go to Atago. They know there will be no days off now. They know there will be no rest now. They are waiting to go, passing round the newspaper, talking of the latest suicide –

A Rear Admiral Sato Shiro, a fifty-four-year-old former commander of the Japanese Naval Forces in the New Guinea area, committed suicide at his home in Yokosuka at about 5 a.m. yesterday morning after having first murdered his forty-two-year-old wife, his eleven-year-old son and nine-year-old daughter as they were sleeping. The former officer who returned home from New Guinea in January this year had been suffering from a nervous condition and is believed to have been contemplating killing himself and his entire family since the latter part of July
…

‘Too many good men,’ say my own men. ‘How many more good men are needlessly going to give their lives in apology…?’

‘While bad men are still lining their pockets…’

‘Too many ceremonies for the dead…’

Turning the page of the paper, talking of the latest fugitive –

Yet another Kempei man on the run –

‘They’ll catch him, you see…’

‘You can’t run forever…’

‘Too many snitches…’

The next two pages of the newspaper, talking of the latest convictions and sentences –

Five men found guilty of mistreating Allied prisoners of war. Evidence showed that as guards at Hakodate Prisoner of War Camp Number One, they had mistreated prisoners and stolen food and clothing from them. The Commission found all five men guilty of crimes against war prisoners and meted out prison sentences ranging from thirty to five years. In the closing hours of the trial, one of the accused, Takeshita Toshio, told the court that former Prime Minister Tojo was responsible for everything and that he and his co-accused were merely conscripted soldiers given orders that they had to obey on pain of death
…

‘It’s never-ending; it just goes on and on and on…’

‘They’re not criminals, just soldiers…’

‘Too many trials…’

The bottom corner of the last page of the last newspaper and there is our story;
the bodies of two women found in Shiba
…

I look at my watch again.
Chiku-taku
…

I stand up now. They all stand up –

I bow. They all bow –

I say, ‘Let’s go.’

*

Through the doors of Atago police station, Nishi and Shimoda carry the first trunk, Kimura and Ishida carry the second trunk; up the stairs of Atago police station, Nishi and Shimoda carry the first trunk, Kimura and Ishida carry the second trunk; Sanada, Hattori, Takeda, Fujita and I marching behind, through the doors and up the stairs –

Nishi and Shimoda put the first trunk down. Kimura and Ishida put the second trunk down in a corner, to stay locked until tonight. Now Nishi and Shimoda open the first trunk. Nishi and Shimoda take out the white banner and the bamboo poles. Nishi and Shimoda raise the banner on the poles beside the door –

Two metres tall and fifty centimetres wide –

In beautiful, bold, bright-red stitching:

Special Investigation Headquarters
.

The men of the Second Team assemble before the banner. The men stand to attention as I tell them –

‘This banner remains here until this case is closed with honour or until we are forced to retreat back to HQ in disgrace –

‘Which is it to be, honour or disgrace?’

‘Honour!’ they shout. ‘Honour!’

‘Then every single one of us must give his very utmost, must give his very best,’ I tell them. ‘Only then can this case be solved and our team return with honour to HQ –

‘So give your utmost!’

‘We will give our very utmost,’ they reply. ‘Our very best!’

Across the hallway, Inspector Kai and his First Team have already raised their banner, already made their pledges and their exhortations; now they are waiting for us –

‘Meeting time!’

The First Team, the Second Team and all the uniforms from the Atago, Meguro and Mita police stations are gathered in the hot, dark second-floor room which the First Team is using at Atago –

I stand up at the front of the room beside Chief Inspectors Adachi and Kanehara and Inspector Kai, the four of us facing the First Team, the Second Team and the uniformed men –

‘Attention!’ shouts one of the uniformed sergeants and everyone in the room jumps to attention –

‘Bow!’ shouts the sergeant –

Everyone bows –

‘At ease!’

Everyone stands at ease now or sits back down except Chief Inspector Adachi; Adachi has a piece of paper in his hand; Adachi reads out lists of names and lists of teams; Adachi assigns names to teams and teams to leaders; Adachi points to a map on the board behind him; Adachi reads out lists of grid coordinates; Adachi assigns coordinates to teams, teams to search and teams to find –

Finally Adachi exhorts every one of us to do our best –

And every one of us promises we will do our best –

‘Attention!’ shouts the uniformed sergeant again and every one of us stands back to attention –

‘Bow!’ he shouts –

And we bow –

‘Dismissed!’

*

There are journalists waiting for us downstairs again. There are always journalists waiting for us these days. There are hundreds of new newspapers and magazines now, thousands of new journalists –

Freedom of Press. Freedom of Press. Freedom of Press –

Things are better since the defeat of the
Yomiuri
strike last month, but there are still far too many newspapers and magazines, still far too many journalists, too many press freedoms –

Too many questions. Too many questions
…

Far too many press scumbags –

Scumbags like Hayashi Jo –

My personal scumbag
…

Hayashi writes for
Minpo
under one name and
Minshū Shimbun
under another. Hayashi would write anything for anyone as long as they paid him and they usually do so he usually does –

Hayashi is waiting for me downstairs –

I take his arm. I take him outside –

Out of sight and out of earshot, across the road and among the trees, a crippled soldier burning weeds in an old black metal drum –

Fire upon fire, heat upon heat, a furnace within a furnace
…

Hayashi inhales and says, ‘I hate the smell of burning…’

I tell him, ‘You better have something this time.’

‘It’s not that it reminds me of the air raids…’

‘Have you got something? Something new?’

‘That smelt more like pork fat,’ he says. ‘This smoke reminds me of the day of the surrender…’

‘Quickly,’ I tell him. ‘What have you got?’

‘They turned the sky black with the papers they burnt…’

‘Enough memories!’ I shout now. ‘Talk or walk.’

‘Up in smoke,’ he says. ‘All the evidence…’

I curse him. I curse him
…

‘And all the names…’

‘That’s it,’ I tell him and I turn to go –

He grabs my arm. He holds out a piece of folded paper. He says, ‘Read this before it goes up in smoke.’

I take it. I open it. I read it –

‘Fujita Tsuneo,’ he says like I cannot read the characters of the name. ‘He was seen drinking with Nodera Tomiji at the New Oasis in Ginza on the night of the Matsuda Giichi hit…’

‘The Detective Fujita of my room?’

Hayashi nods. ‘The very same.’

I curse and I curse
…

I shake my head. I tell him, ‘It’s a mistake.’

Hayashi shakes his head. ‘No mistake.’

I ask him, ‘Who told you? Who?’

Hayashi shakes his head again.

‘Who else knows about this, then?’ I ask him. ‘Your snitch knows, you know, and so how many others know?’

‘No one else,’ says Hayashi. ‘No one still breathing.’

‘Except for you,’ I tell him –

‘And now you,’ he smiles.

I stare into Hayashi’s eyes. I say, ‘Who says you’re not lying? Who says you haven’t just made this up…?’

‘Bastard,’ snaps Hayashi now. ‘It was you who came to me. You who wanted to know who ordered the hit on Matsuda. You who wanted to know who paid Nodera. And then who killed Nodera…’

I turn to go, to walk away –

Out of the shadows
…

He grabs my arm a second time. He says, ‘So what now?’

I pull my arm free of him. I say, ‘Nothing.’

‘What do you mean,
nothing?’
he asks. ‘I did what you asked me to do. I got you your information. Now I want my money!’

‘But I can’t use this information,’ I tell him.

‘That’s not my problem,’ he laughs.

‘But I can’t pay you.’

Hayashi has stopped laughing. Now Hayashi says, ‘Well then, I’ll just have to take it to someone who can pay me.’

‘Like who?’ I ask him.

‘Like Boss Senju.’

Now I laugh. ‘Boss Senju?’

‘He’ll pay me.’

I step towards him. I lean into him. I say, ‘You think Boss Senju will pay you? A lowlife scumbag journalist who couldn’t tell someone the right time if they asked him because he wouldn’t know
what that right time was because he lies and he lies and he lies? You think Senju will pay a lowlife scumbag piece of shit like you just because he says he heard that one of my detectives was seen in a Ginza bar with the very lowlife scumbag who later that same night shot his boss, his mentor, his surrogate father … is that the information you think Boss Senju is going to pay you for? Is it? Is it really? Because the first thing Senju will do before killing Fujita and then killing me is to torture you to find out how you came upon this piece of information, when you came upon it, and why you never said anything to anyone about it before and believe me, Hayashi, whatever you tell Senju will be the wrong answer and it will also be your final answer before he then kills you! So if I was you, I would forget you ever heard Fujita’s name in connection to Matsuda Giichi.’