The day started out auspiciously, to say the least. Rain poured down, smothering the streets of Tokyo in it's cold embrace like something out of a film noir. Victorian grey skies hung sullen and low, the tips of the skyscrapers barely caressing them as the clouds passed on towards the vastness of the ocean. With the rain coming down in sheets, pedestrians scurried for cover like rodents, and along the sidewalks you could see people huddled together in groups underneath awnings, mumbling to each other. I guided my black Mazda hatchback to the curb of the abandoned lot and waited for the officers to move their barricade long enough to let me through.
While I waited, I surveyed the damage to some of Tokyo's most prized real estate. The plot had been slated to become a new flock of high-priced condominiums, just another in the slew of top-dollar digs in this prefecture. At least that was the plan, before the whole place got an explosive makeover. In the dead center of the lot, a fairly sizable crater was being investigated by what looked like dozens of demolition experts, black ash and scorched earth contrasting sharply with the wet soil. Fairly sizable was an understatement, considering I probably could have parked my car in there without any trouble. The plot was surrounded by drab, monolithic apartment complexes that bent towards the heavens.
To my surprise, there was little collateral damage, almost unbelievable considering the blast radius. In order to create a crater that large, the explosion would have had to have been big enough to at least cause some windows to break, if not more. Something else wasn't right about this, though. I took a good hard look around, and was almost convinced that I was simply experiencing the sweet hallucinations of sleep deprivation when it hit me. 'What the hell is all that white stuff on the ground?' Last time I looked at a calendar, it was September, a little early for a freakin' winter wonderland.
I eased my car into the lot and parked, pausing for a moment before getting out to pull a dark grey trench-coat on over my crisply pressed black and white suit. Unlike most other detectives in Tokyo, I prefer to keep myself immaculately groomed at all times. My ex-wife called me vain; I told her she should consider herself lucky to find a man who took pride in himself. Ok, maybe it's a little vain, bordering on metrosexual, but I don't care to delve that deep into it.
I barely have time to shut the door behind me before one of Tokyo's finest is in my face. He looks young, a dead on assumption when he snaps me a wooden salute like some kind of roughneck out of an American war movie. The only time anyone salutes is when they're fresh off the Academy's presses and are eager to please. The kid barks out, "Hello, sir! I'm Officer Kurowa! I was the first on..." He seems caught off guard when I start walking away from him, towards the crater.
"Walk with me, Kurowa. When did you take the call?”
"Um...around 2 A.M. sir..."
I cut him off again. For a second, I worry if I'm coming across like a real dick, but the thought soon fades. "Any witnesses? Any descriptions or suspects? Talk to any of the neighbors yet?" I look up into the windows of the surrounding apartments and catch the gazes of some curious citizens, some of whom withdraw from their windows when they notice that someone's noticed their gaping. "Looks like we might have some nosy ones, those are always the best," I mumbled, mostly to myself.
Kurowa finds the nerve to speak again, "Nothing yet, sir."
Thankfully, he's stopped already, so I don't have to bother interrupting him again. "Well, I need you guys to get on that for now. Round up some other men, hit the rooms with the view, starting with the building on the north side here, it's got the best view of the lot. Talk to as many people as you can, see if they saw anyone or anything here last night. I'm going to talk to one of the Techs." I notice his rigid posture and almost groaned. Kurowa must have noticed my look of unbridled displeasure, because he dropped out of his stance immediately and hurried across the lot to the other cops on scene, hopefully going to start knocking on doors, more likely to bitch about me. It’s too damn early.
The CSI personnel were scurrying too and fro, and I simply tried to get out of their way. Now, I just had to find a familiar face in the crowd. Someone who only found me mildly abrasive, because no matter how much fun it was to annoy the hell out of my fellow officers, such as the young Officer Kurowa, I had enough of social problems as it was. Just my luck, there happens to be an old pal here. Detective Mitsuhiro was crouching with his back to me, digging through layers of dirt and charred ash, looking for God knows what. "Mitsuhiro!"
"Ah, if it isn’t Detective Sugara Urawa, pride of the Tokyo Police Department! Hey, I haven't seen you since Kaga's stag party!" Mitsuhiro was chuckling to himself, but I was having a hell of a time trying to remember anything from that night. All that was left was a thick haze and something about sky blue. "Man, I never thought you'd look that good in a dress!" Oh yeah, now I remember.
Mitsuhiro was a buddy of mine from the early days of the academy, the kind of friend you wish you could strangle once in a while. He looked the same as ever, fresh-faced and bright eyed, slightly ratty black hair and a bookish physique. He didn't exactly cut an impressive figure, but he was a Crime Scene Investigator, so that wasn't of any real concern. I forgot to mention that he's a loud-mouth, but that was pretty much apparent once you meet him.
"Yeah, well, if you hadn't locked me out of the apartment, no one else would have known that, either," I grumbled. "Oh yeah, thanks for mentioning that out loud. Way to go, buddy." With more than a little bit of malice, I gave him a hard slap on the back before starting to go over the scene with him, "What have you got for me?"
"Not much yet. We think that an accident is out of the question, since the gas lines running into the lot have been shut off since the previous building was demolished, about 2 months ago." Mitsuhiro stood up and dusted himself off, "We already put a call out to the gas company, and they told us that the line was shut off at the main connection before demolition. There's strict city code about that sort of thing, so there's no chance of a running line through here. Plus, the contractor says they weren't storing any explosive materials on-site. If it was an accident, I don't know what the hell could have caused it."
"So, you're saying..."
Mitsuhiro took a step closer, trying to get a little more privacy, "Listen, this wasn't caused by a bomb, or not any kind of bomb I've ever seen. I mean, there's no shrapnel, hell, no trace of any kind of casing period. No residue, nothing. It's like its goddamned magic. We don't have the first clue about what the hell is going on." Hmmm, a mystery explosion. I could only imagine the nuts in this town grabbing hold of a story like that and milking in for all they could.
If I thought less of the guy, I would have just assumed he'd been slacking off and was missing something that was probably sitting right under his nose. Except I did think pretty highly of this guy, which wasn't going to make my job any easier right now, if what he was saying was true. I stroked my goatee and surveyed the crater again. Then it struck me again, and I had to kind of wonder how I managed to forget it in the first place. "Well, I'm assuming all this white shit on the ground doesn't have anything to do with the bomb, but care to fill me in on what the hell it is?"
Mitsuhiro simply shrugged, which isn't making me feel any better. "Beats me, man. We've sent some samples off to the lab, but if you ask me, it had nothing to do with our bomb."
"Yeah, the way it's spread out in random clumps, it was probably spread out after the explosion." Mitsuhiro looked at me noticeably impressed by my observation. Hey, when you're the golden boy..., "If it was the bomb's ignition, what ever didn't evaporate would have spread out exponentially across the blast radius, not in random piles." I took off one of my gloves and knelt down, picking up a small clump of the stuff. It was light, almost like dust, but it had this kind of bizarre iridescent quality to it. I stood up, "Good thing it's raining. This stuff is so light, it would have blown away on a normal day. All this moisture must be keeping it down." I wiped the dust off my hands, "Well, whatever the hell it is, it's all I've got going for me right now. Call me when you get the results back." I scanned the lot silently, before I turned back towards my car, "I'm off to see our contractor."
"Got a hunch?"
I could have put on a show of bravado, but I decided there was no point in impressing Mitsuhiro with Hollywood dramatics. "Nah, I'm going by the book right now. I mean, what else do I have to go on?"
Mitsuhiro smiled. "Textbook isn't your style. I'll talk to you later, princess." I just grumbled to myself as I walked back to my car, Mitsuhiro's laughter floating over my shoulder like some annoying insect.
I lit up a cigarette as I waited in the early morning traffic and ruffled through some papers I had picked up at Headquarters. The contractor I was going to see was Soichiro Tatsuya, 32 years old, fairly clean arrest record, just two drunk in public charges when he was a kid. He's been a successful contractor for almost ten years now, and has built himself a reputation as the kind of guy who can manage to finish up any job on time. He's recently come into the favor of some of Tokyo's high-profile developers, and is apparently really raking in the jack now. He's divorced, a man after my own heart. It says he split with the old battle-ax around 5 years ago and splits custody of their two kids. I had been luckier I guess. I married young at nineteen and we had split two days before my twenty-third birthday. Luckily we didn't have any kids, which I was always happy about. Even now, two years after our divorce, I could still feel the pangs of regret every time I thought about her. But when we were married, there were simply too many problems to fix, so much lost that we could never replace.
I wasn't even able to put the time into a marriage, what with a young promising career and all that bullshit, but at the most I was simply hurting me and Jun. I couldn't imagine dragging kids through that kind of mess. Still, there had been good times back then. I still can't bring myself to blame her for leaving me, when I was never there for her. The rain pattering against my windshield reminded me of the endless hours we'd spend together during dark, gloomy spring days, when the rain was splashing against our apartment window. We'd spend an entire day just lying in our bed, holding each other and drinking the warmth of each others bodies, as if nothing existed beyond the two of us, at that very moment. We were as close as two human beings could possibly be, and more than once I could have sworn I had felt her soul, like she had let down all her barriers and she had given me everything she had and was.
"Argh! Goddamnit!" I pulled my burned fingers away from my cigarette, which had smoked itself down to a nub. 'Man, I really must have drifted off there.' I tapped the nub out in my ashtray and lit up another from a fresh pack. I sucked the smoke in slowly, and while I stared out across the street congested in traffic, choked in a cold haze, I couldn't help but feel my mind drift off again.
___________________________________
"Mr. Tatsuya?" My man was looking pretty ragged when he answered the door, which was understandable under the circumstances. I mean, it isn't everyday that there's a mysterious explosion at your job. He was a tough looking mug, but he also looked like he was carrying a ton of bricks on his back. Everything about him kind of drooped, which automatically made me feel even worse for this guy. When you go through a divorce, you look for something to fill that gap in your life that’s suddenly appeared. It can be almost anything, from booze and women to religion, but for a lot of men, its work. Now that his livelihood was under attack, Mr. Tatsuya was obviously having a hard time keeping his chin up. I was going to have to work him up to the hard stuff, "Sorry to disturb you right now, I'm sure you're very busy. I'm Detective Urawa, and I just had a couple of questions to ask you, if you don't mind."
Soichiro nodded numbly and motioned for me to come inside. "Um, feel free to sit anywhere. Would you like some coffee?" His words came out flat and subdued.
"No thank you. We should take a seat though, even though this won't take too long." I followed Soichiro to what I guessed what his living room. He plopped himself into a large, brown recliner, and I sat across from him on a cushy black leather sofa and pulled out a small tape recorder. "You don't mind if I record this do you?" He simply shook his head, looking much like a forlorn and thoroughly dejected dog. I snapped the recorder on and began, "I'm just going to ask some simple questions, and I need you to answer them as completely as you can." I cleared my throat and looked straight into his eyes. Gateways to the soul they're called, and the easiest way to spot a liar. Looking into a person's eyes had become a habit since I started in the police force, one which made a lot of people uncomfortable, for some reason or another. "Now, Mr. Tatsuya, has there been any problems on the site recently?"
"No, nothing. We had only started clearing the lot and leveling a few weeks ago, so we're still pretty early in the job."
"Have you been doing any drilling or digging yet?"
"No, we're not even that far along. A lot of hold-ups from the developers, you know, some financial problems. We were supposed to start on the concrete base and some of the pylons this week, but, well..."
I nodded and continued, "Have there been any personnel problems? Anyone acting weird; someone with problems in their personal lives?"
"I've got some of the best men in this city," he started with a grunt. "I've never had a problem with any of my men."
I put up my hands and lowered my voice. I didn't need this guy getting pissed off on me. "I'm sorry, that wasn't meant to be a slur against your workers. I just need to check out every angle." I paused for a second to let him cool down before I started again, "What about the developer, I haven't heard much about him."
He simply shook his head again, "No problems whatsoever. I've worked with Mr. Yamoshita before, and we get along well."
I sat back in the sofa and started to stroke my goatee again, it was time to dig deeper. "Any strange men hanging around the site. Or any heavily-tattooed gentlemen having words with Mr. Yamoshita?"
Tatsuya's eyes widened for a moment, "Are you asking me if...?" He trailed off for a beat, uncomfortable. "Listen, I don't know anything about that kind of thing, I keep my nose to the grindstone."
"Let's not kid ourselves, everybody knows about the Inagawa-kai and our fair real estate trade," I half-joked, hoping to take the edge off. "I'm not asking for on-the-record stuff," I noted as I clicked off the recorder as a show of good faith, "I'm asking as a guy who's just trying to do his job too."
"If I was fool enough to name names, you'd never get me to a trial. Besides, I'm too far down the totem pole to be bothered by the yakuza. Maybe my boss had some run-ins with them, who in his position hasn't? But I never caught wind of anything like that."
I figured I had wasted enough time here, and I had better get some real detective work done. Taxpayers are paying my salary, after all, so I might as well give them their money's worth. I grabbed my recorder and stood up, shaking Soichiro's hand before reaching into my coat jacket and fishing out a card. "Thanks for your time, Mr. Tatsuya. If you think of anything, please give me a call."
Soichiro led me to the door, turning around to face me before he shut the door. "Detective, I've worked for a lot of powerful men in this city. And like anyone with power, there's something dark and sinister always lying just below the surface. You want my advice about Yamoshita? The less you know about powerful people, the better off you are."
_________________
When I got back into my car, I called up Mitsuhiro on his cell phone. It was early, but I was hoping someone in his department had been able to find some evidence I could really use. I felt like I was grasping at straws until I had something concrete that I could wrap my mind around, whether this whole mess was just an accident or something more sinister. After a few rings, Mitsuhiro picked up. I could hear the sounds of traffic and machinery in the background, which must mean he was still back at the crime scene. "Mitsuhiro! Got anything back from the lab yet? What the hell are you still doing at the scene?"
"We're still trying to find a useable soil sample, if you can believe that. Everything we've sent to the lab has come back inconclusive." I could hear Mitsuhiro yell something at one of his fellow detectives for a second before he got back to me. "So far, we have no clue to the nature of the explosion, period. Typically finding the cause of an explosion is pretty damned hit or miss, you can either track the source of an explosion easily, or it can elude you for weeks. This one is looking like the latter."
"What about that white powder? Any news on that?" Cross your fingers, because you’re going to need it.
"Hell, our lab doesn't even know what the hell that stuff is. They say it bears a resemblance to skin cells, but that's about all they can figure out."
"So you're saying something died there?" Suddenly this case was becoming more problematic by the second.
"Hey, I said 'resembled'. Let's not jump to any wild conclusions here."
"Well, thanks for filling me in. I'm heading back over right now, as a matter of fact. Gonna' go pound down some doors in this neighborhood. I mean, it'll at least give me something to do with the next few hours."
__________________________
I pulled my car into the lot for the second time that day and stepped out into what was shaping up to be one weird fucking case. The weather was rapidly improving, even the occasional beam of light managed to part the thick sea of clouds and warm things up. A gaggle of news reporters were now gathering outside the site, gawking at the pit in the center of the lot and hurling questions at the two poor street cops responsible for the barricade. Getting out of here was going to be a blast.
I was naturally interested to see if Kurowa had taken my advice and started interviewing the neighbors, so I stopped the first cop I saw and got him on a cruiser radio. He didn't sound too excited to hear my voice, but, once again, I didn’t really give a damn. "Kurowa, any luck yet? Which building are you in?"
"The Emerald Apartments, the building on the north side, sir. No luck as of yet." He was getting faster in his response, which was a welcome change.
"Alright, me and," I checked the badge of the poor sap I had stopped, "Officer...Maritoko will take building 204 on the East side. Tell me if you find anything."
As with everything else today, each door was another damned dead-end. Everyone had to be so damn normal, where were all the sad, lonely outcasts that had nothing better to do? It'd certainly make my job a little bit easier. Every story was the same: they were all asleep and didn't hear a damn thing till the explosion. Fat lot of good that does me. This might be the only time I ever thought I'd say this, but we need a damn speed freak living in one of these buildings. Maritoko and I had canvassed the entire spread, and had come up with diddly so far.
__________________________
I rang the doorbell to Apartment 41e, the last on the third floor, and waited impatiently. I was eager to hit the pavement again, but I kept getting that nagging feeling that I needed to stick with this till it was finished. There was something here that would get the ol' wheels going, I just knew it. An elderly woman answered the door, probably in her early sixties, and looking a little nutty. Not institutional, just the kind of old woman who's used to getting her kicks vicariously. I'm not saying voyeur, but pretty damn close. Hey, when people stop knocking on your door, you've got to find something to do for fun. I flashed my badge and introduced Maritoko. She invited us into her flat and offered us some tea. I had been hoping for coffee, but beggars can't be choosers.
When we sat down in her dining room, a pair of binoculars sitting on a counter confirmed what I already expected about the old woman. After five years and hundreds of interviews, identifying personality traits and mental problems becomes something of an art. You just get this gut feeling, and you learn to trust it. In some cases, like this one, they leave a set of binoculars on the freaking counter. It's less a learned trait than a simple game of "Where's Waldo". I would have been happier if she wasn't so old, which means she probably wasn't up burning the midnight oil, so to speak. Probably in bed by ten, or maybe even earlier, if she's older than I think she is.
"You're here about the explosion, aren't you?" 'Clever old dame, aren't you?' I had heard that remark about fifty million damn times today, and I was just about getting sick of it. There was a gigantic explosion, OF COURSE I'M HERE TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT IT!
"Exactly ma'am. We were wondering if you might have seen anything unusual last night? Anything you can think of would be helpful right now." The old woman was grinning like an idiot, which could be a good thing or a bad thing. Either she did see something last night and she's happy to finally feel useful, or she's simply nuttier than I had thought. I considered bringing out my taser in case the latter happened to be true.
"Well, Detective, I was up late last night, rummaging through my late husband's belongings. You see, I have horrible arthritis and sometimes just falling asleep can be such a chore. Just looking at his old stuff makes me feel comfortable..." The woman was prattling on and on; it was painfully clear why she wasn't entertaining much anymore.
"So what exactly was it that you saw, Ma'am?"
"Well, I was sitting here at the table, looking out the window, when I saw someone run into the lot. I couldn't give you a description, it was very dark, you know, but whoever it was, they were big, very big." The old woman paused to sip at her tea, obviously relishing in the attention she was receiving. I, however, was ready to throttle the woman. I had worked all day, and this was the only possible piece of evidence I had picked up. I needed this, and now! "The man was followed by 5 smaller people, I'm pretty sure they were women."
"Why do you say that?"
"Well, they were much smaller than the man they were following, and they happened to be wearing mini-skirts." 'Alright,' I thought to myself, 'She was off her medication.'
"Now, the 5 girls were following this gigantic man?"
The old woman raised her hand and interrupted me, "More like chasing the man. They ran after him into the lot, but after that I couldn't see much. A couple of minutes after they entered the lot, there was a huge explosion! It even woke up Mr. Boots!" She stroked the obese Persian who had slinked up next to her, who I could only assume was the aforementioned Mr. Boots. This was fucking ridiculous.
“So, a gargantuan man was being chased by no less than five short, mini-skirt wearing girls, into a vacant lot where a tremendous explosion occurred?” She nodded vacantly. I stood up to leave, "Well, Miss, thank you for your time. If we have anymore questions, we'll be sure to give you a call." I didn't want to leave her a card, for fear that the old bat would start calling me up at my office and on my cell phone for afternoon chats. I'd had enough at this point, and quickly ushered Maritoko out with me.
I headed back towards the escalator. I had enough door-to-door action for the day; I was ready to head back to the office and wrap things up. After the escalator doors closed behind us, Maritoko leaned over to me, "Looks like we've got a Sailor Senshi case on our hands." I simple grunted.
"That Sailor Senshi stuff is a load of bullshit. I knew that old bat was out of her damn gourd."
Maritoko waved his finger at me disapprovingly, "Come on, you have to admit that there's some strange stuff that goes on in this town. Maybe there really is a Sailor Moon? I mean, the papers have even caught them on camera."
I started to rub my eyes, which were feeling leaden and weak at this point. It was getting late, and this whole escapade was beginning to be one big damn joke. I felt tired, the kind of tired that weakens your bones and destroys your mind. I needed a drink, and a bed. "So much for logic and deduction..."
When the doors swung open on the ground floor, I headed straight for the entrance, golden rays of the day's last sunlight streaming through the large double doors. The crisp, cool air swept past my face and reawakened me. Well, not completely, but I did feel a hell of a lot better now that I was out of that cursed apartment building. I headed back towards my car and waved back to Maritoko, "I'll see you later, Maritoko. I'm done for the day."
_____________________________
The next two days flashed by in a haze. The lab had still been unable to come to a conclusion on the source of the explosion, and they hadn’t been able to completely identify the white powder that we had found on the scene. Most of both of those days consisted of going door-to-door, asking a lot of questions and not getting many answers in return. I also had to shift through the boat-load of call in tips we had received, trying to separate the cranks from the real leads. There were some people in this town that needed to find a new hobby. Most of the tips were so outlandish, they’d make for good bedtime reading, and not much more. Everything from aliens, secret government agencies, and an annoyingly large amount of Senshi theories were taking up space on my desk.
To give myself something to do, I called up Sujiro Yamoshita’s office number to make sure he was in and drove down to his office. The building was swanky, to say the least. All glass on the exterior of the 30 story behemoth, with Yamoshita’s office at the very top, and the interior was decked out with deep plush carpets and oak paneled walls. Various framed photographs showcased Yamoshita’s greatest architectural creations and various models for some of the cities most renowned buildings were on display in his waiting room. I flashed my badge for the pretty young secretary at the door, but she seemed none to impressed with me as she led me into Yamoshita’s office.
I had pulled a file on Sujiro and thumbed through it before I left the office. His public record had some info on a handful of civil trial cases of no particular importance to me, a dead end embezzlement case back in the '80's, and some good info on some "respectable" shareholders in his corporation.
As I had suspected earlier, when I spoke with Mr. Tatsuya, there was more than just idle speculation in regards to his links with the Inagawa-kai. The preeminent Yakuza clan in the Tokyo-Yokohama area, these thugs had their hands deep into the real estate market, often assisting large corporations aquire new land through forceful negotiations with small-time business owners. Simply referred to as jiageya, colorful gents would visit your place of employ and let you know that the building you were inhabiting was, in fact, very desirable. Too desirable for you to stay there any longer. You had two options: you could give up your land and walk out with some cash in hand and your legs still functioning, and, well, nobody needed to know the second option.
Yamoshita rushed around from behind his mammoth mahogany desk, antique no doubt, and met me halfway across the room to give me a firm handshake. He led me to a cushy brown leather seat across from his desk, before settling down himself. “Coffee?" I believe my secretary has just made a fresh pot.”
“That would be great, thank you.” I pulled out my tape recorder again, and set it on the desk in front of me. “If you wouldn’t mind,” I started as I nodded towards the recorder.
“By all means.” The secretary returned from the waiting room with the coffee, and I took a few sips and waited for her to walk out of the room. “Thank you for coming by, Detective. I had actually been wondering when one of you would be dropping by for a chat.” Yamoshita was 52 years old, but looked like he was in his early forties. His hair was still pitch black, so black I had to wonder if the guy dyed, and cut short to disguise his receding hairline. While he was short, he was in excellent shape and his eyes had the brilliant shine of a tiger that still had the hunt in his blood.
“Sorry I couldn’t drop by yesterday, there was just so much going on.”
“Perfectly understandable. Now, what can I do for you?”
“Well, it was your site that was attacked, I want to know if you've heard of any threats levied against your interests.”
“You think this was an attack?” Yamoshita leaned forward intently, one eyebrow cocked incredulously.
“We're not prepared to say either way right now, but the evidence isn't pointing towards an accident. It maybe a message of some kind, maybe a warning.”
“And why would you come to that conclusion?”
“I can tell you're the kind of man who likes to play it straight, so I'll lay it out for you. In your position, you meet a lot of people. In real estate, probably a lot of dangerous people, people who deal in threats and warnings.” I paused to take another sip of my coffee, and hoped I could turn the conversation from what I know to what he knows.
“You don’t think I had anything to do with it, would you Officer?” His tone turned slightly hostile, and I was worried he might clam up on me if I didn’t right this.
“No, nothing like that. I’ve already checked out your insurance records, and there isn’t enough money in that plot of dirt right now to make a man of your stature do something this foolish.” That seemed to calm him down. "But I am saying that maybe some business partners had something to do with this. I'm not making any accusations, but there have been some rumblings about the men you associate with.
Yamoshita leaned back in his chair, "Myself and every other financial pillar in this country, if you hadn't noticed." He leaned forward purposefully, "These men you speak of, are a legitimate piece of our cultural puzzle. While you may not enjoy every aspect of their profession, as I assure you I do not, you understand as well as I do that they have their place."
"It might be cliche to say, but one can get burned playing with fire."
"I can assure you, Detective, that no associates of mine had an inclination to perform an act such as this. Let me say, they don't deal in warnings." I nodded slowly. Bombings for the most part aren't yakuza style, they like to deal with a problem hands on, so to speak.
"They would take the head of the snake."
"They are problem solvers, if nothing else," he said stoically. "They get down to the root of the situation. So, was this the discussion you planned on when you made this appointment?"
"I'm looking at all possibilities right know. As the man with the most to gain from this project's completion, I needed to touch base with you, see if you had any information for me. I'll be in touch." I left my card on his desk and left without an escort. He didn't seem to have more to hide than any other millionaire in Japan. I left the building into the crisp fall morning and headed to my car, and then to nothing in particular. I could use a good drink.
_________________________
The sharp ring of the telephone woke me up from my deep, Scotch induced sleep. I groggily raised my head from the pillow to read the alarm clock. 3:30 A.M. This had better be important, or heads were going to roll. I had been in the middle of probably the best night’s sleep I had had in months. I was dreaming of that small apartment Jun and I used to share, of the cold nights I would come home to see her waiting up for me. She always knew how to chase it all away. She just had this way of making me forget all the ugliness that I had to wade through everyday and just make me feel...good. It had only been a dream, but I swear I could feel warm arms around me, and her delicate fragrance on my skin.
I quickly snatched up the phone, and answered drearily, "Yeah, what is it?" It was too damn early for pleasantries.
"Urawa? It's Mitsuhiro. You're not going to believe this, but there was another explosion about a mile from the first site. Same M.O., no sign of a bomb or accident, but there's still some of that white powder all over the ground." The liquor and sleep wore off instantly, and I reached for my clothes. I needed to get there, and soon while the scene was still hot. I knew that every chance that came my way, I had to take.
"Where is it? I'll meet you there!"
"Setsuna Memorial Park."
"Great, I'll see you in a few minutes."
Author’s Note:
That’s the end of Chapter 1. This is something that I’ve been working for a LONG time, off and on. It’s an idea I found interesting, mixing a police procedural with the senshi, but could never find the time to finish it. I’ve definitely got the motivation this time around, so expect to see a new chapter out soon. Comments are, of course, appreciated. You can contact me at shoddyworksucks@gmail.com
