Reckoning - Chapter 16

It was a strange tableau, Ryo mused late the next morning. Not unlike something you’d see in a zoo. A row of barred cells against one wall, no barriers between them, offering absolutely no privacy. Wall at the back, cells at the side, and an empty room in front with an open double door so anybody who walked through could immediately see the animals behind bars.

He huffed and dropped back on the narrow cot that’s been his bed—he was using the term generously—for the past couple of hours.

After the Coast Guard dropped them off at the Shinko Pier in Yokohama Port, the TMPD had taken over, taking them on a merry and way-too-long, bumpy ride to a nondescript keisatsu-sho somewhere outside Shinjuku. He knew that, at least. Because he didn’t know any of the cops there.

Cops that enjoyed their power a little too much.

They’d taken their guns and searched them thoroughly—a little too thoroughly for his liking—and when initial interrogation got them only smirks and lifted middle fingers, they threw them in these zoo-like cages.

He’d never before had the dubious pleasure of receiving the hospitality of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department, but now he definitely knew it wasn’t nice. It also wasn’t the worst he’d experienced in his life. Compared to some sleeping quarters throughout the years, this looked like a five-star hotel.

He smirked. If they thought he’d break because of the narrow, hard cot and no privacy when taking a leak, they had no idea who they were dealing with. The same went for Umi and Mick; he mused some more as he turned his head to see the two men leisurely stretched on their cots, hands behind their heads. Not that Umi fit onto his, but he projected the perfect image of someone enjoying his surroundings immensely. Even Miki was game, twisting in all sorts of yoga positions.

The only one sticking out like a sore thumb was Saeko, huddled, sulking silently, in the corner of her cot, probably more worried about Hideyuki than herself at the moment. At least Makumura’s been taken to a hospital, no questions asked. Ryo figured the man had looked enough like shit to merit medical assistance without being interrogated first.

Saeko let out a soft sob, and Ryo frowned. She wasn’t used to this sort of surroundings; she was usually on the other side of the bars. Which begged the question, why did they stick her in jail alongside them? Even after she identified herself. She was the daughter of Commissioner Nogami, after all.

Which could only mean one thing. The order came from higher up.

What the hell was going on? And what was Kaori’s role in all of this?

That was what hurt most. She’d betrayed them. She’d betrayed him. Again. What else could he deduce after last night? She’d swum away, leaving them to be arrested, and she hadn’t bothered showing her face today.

He grit his teeth against the pain in his chest. To think he’d fallen for that pretty face and empty words. Again.

“Idiot,” he muttered. “You’re an idiot, Saeba.”

Commissioner Nogami chose that moment to storm through the open door. “I demand to know what is going on!”

Like they could tell him.

A man with three gold bars besides the gold-wreathed emblem on his epaulettes—obviously holding a slightly higher rank than Nogami—strolled leisurely through the door.

“What’s all this, Furuya?” Nogami snapped when he noticed his daughter huddled in one of the cells.

As a bunch of uniformed officers filed in, setting up at a computer hub in the corner, the man called Furuya put his hands behind his back, balancing slightly on the balls of his feet. “Your daughter is under arrest, Nogami.”

Having taken a few steps towards the cells, Nogami whirled around. “On what charges?!

Furuya looked at him archly. “Drug trafficking.”

“Bullshit!” Nogami turned purple.

Furuya shrugged. “She was fished out of the Bay alongside her associates,” he indicated the four of them, “after a yacht supposedly associated with a drug syndicate sank.”

“Supposedly!” Nogami insisted.

“That’s what pre-indictment investigation is all about.” Furuya looked at him with pity. “You should know how it goes.”

Nogami frowned. “What are you playing at?”

Furuya glared. “I don’t like the tone of your voice, Commissioner!”

“Seems we got caught up in a dick-measuring contest,” Mick murmured from the neighboring cell.

“If this is about drugs, why isn’t anybody from the DFCD present?” Nogami insisted. “Shouldn’t they be informed?”

“Not for now,” Furuya replied silkily. A warning. “After we have something concrete, I’ll think about informing them.”

“They already know.”

A man Ryo was used to seeing only on TV came through the door. The four golden suns on each epaulette of his uniform identified him as Shishido Taro, Chief of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department, the Superintendent-General, the highest-ranking officer in the Japanese police. The big boss.

Nogami and Furuya stood at attention, Furuya fidgeting slightly.

“I wonder why you didn’t bother informing me personally, Senior Commissioner,” Shishido snapped.

Ryo smirked as he saw a drop of sweat trickle down Furuya’s temple. This wasn’t just a dick-measuring contest; it looked more like a power grab.

“Sir—”

“Sorry, we’re late.”

At the sound of a familiar female voice, Ryo looked back toward the door where a tall, wiry man in his late-fifties in a dark-grey double-breasted suit entered, flanked by a slightly shorter, rounder and younger man whose uniform epaulets held five golden suns.

The even bigger boss.

What the hell is going on?!

“Commissioner General Nakajima, Division Chief Ito,” Senior Commissioner Furuya greeted shakily. Then he glared as the owner of the female voice followed the two men. “Agent Makimura.”

Ryo drank her in, saliva flooding his mouth.

She looked delectable, all fresh and polished in a short-sleeved dark-green turtleneck, tight black ankle-length jeans, and black pointed-toe stiletto court shoes with sky-high heels. The matte gun complemented the shiny golden badge at her waist, and she held a familiar-looking tablet in her left hand.

She looked amazing, her fuck-me shoes making her lower back arch, pushing her butt higher, her chest up and forward, and the tight clothes hugging each curve and swell to perfection.

“Senior Commissioner Furuya,” she greeted sweetly, her smile blinding. “It’s been a while. You look good. How’s the family?”

“They’re well, thank you,” Furuya answered automatically, politeness ingrained. “What are you doing here?”

Her eyes cooled. “I’m with the Drug and Firearms Countermeasures Division. Supposedly primary in this case. If it is what you claim it to be. I would’ve been here sooner if you’d bothered to inform my superior.”

Ryo’s ears twitched. She sounded genuine, as if she hadn’t been with them last night. And what was with the tone? Snapping at a superior officer. What was going on?

He slowly sat up, noticing Umi and Mick do the same. Miki stopped doing her yoga. Only Saeko still huddled in the corner, not looking up.

“We would’ve informed you last night,” Furuya replied, eyes narrowed, voice dangerous. “But you couldn’t be reached. Where were you?”

“None of your business, sir.”

Ryo looked at Mick, who shrugged. The three men who preceded her were obviously her superiors, two of them the highest-ranking officers in law enforcement, but they were silent, letting her speak for herself.

A tick in Furuya’s jaw was jumping like crazy. “Oh, but it is. Because if you were helping these criminals,” he indicated the five of them with his hand again, “you’re in trouble, agent. And you can kiss your police career goodbye.”

Kaori rolled her eyes and sighed. “Fine. I was on a date.”

Ryo almost choked.

Furuya goggled. “A date?”

She shrugged. “Yes, a date. I recently returned from a four-year undercover operation. Fully sanctioned and authorized, might I add.” She sighed. “Four years is a long time. I needed a date.”

Furuya crossed his arms on his chest and cocked his head. “With whom?”

“Can’t tell you.”

“You will tell me or you’ll be put on disciplinary leave!”

Kaori sighed. “I really cannot divulge, sir. You see, the gentleman in question is married and I doubt his wife knows about his extramarital activities.”

Ryo frowned. She sounded sincere, not a trace of a lie in her voice, her posture relaxed, and her expression calm and open. But there was something off, besides the fact he knew she was lying. Frown dissipating, his eyes widened. That’s what was off. Her face. It was too serene, too beatific, too calm, her smile sweet but not reaching her eyes. Eyes that were blank.

She was wearing a mask.

You had to know her to realize it. The tall man in the grey suit obviously did, because he was fighting a smile. Ryo knew her, too. They lived together for four years. He’d never seen that mask on her face in all that time, never seen her eyes go blank like that.

Which meant…

She never lied to him. Not really. As she’d said a few days ago, there was a difference between lying and withholding the truth. She never lied to him. Not like that.

“You can imagine my surprise,” she continued, “my utter shock, when I turn on my phone this morning and the first call I get is from Division Chief Ito informing me that my cousin, the only family I have left, is in fact alive and in hospital. Thank you for asking about his condition, sir, seeing as he’s a valued member of our police force.”

Ryo felt a corner of his mouth curve. Lie and deflect, turn the tables, and put the questioner on the back foot. Boy, she was good.

Furuya, all the wind out of his sails, cleared his throat, looking sheepish. “Right, how is Makimura?”

“Rather well, thank you.” She looked away, straight at Ryo. “Remarkably well, the doctors claim. He’s obviously been dosed with a drug, they suspect a PCP derivative. There was no need for sedatives or restraints, so apparently he wasn’t dosed recently or often enough to develop any obvious signs of dependency. What’s more worrisome are apparent electrical burns he sustained just before being admitted. The surface burns aren’t that visible, they’re looking for internal damage as we speak.”

Ryo nodded slightly in thanks for the update, and she looked back at Senior Commissioner Furuya.

“When I went to see him, he was conscious and lucid enough to tell me, his best friend,” she pointed at Ryo, “his ex-girlfriend,” a nod toward Saeko, “and a couple people he didn’t know,” she indicated Mick, Umibozu and Miki, “saved him only to get arrested. So I called Division Chief Ito back to find out what exactly is going on.”

Furuya’s eyes shone at the obviously awaited opening. “They were on a yacht called St. Damiano II, associated with the drug cartel Union Teope.” He took a step forward, as if going in for the kill. “The leader of the cartel, Kaibara Shin, a criminal on multiple international wanted lists, was also on that ship—”

Kaori scoffed. “Kaibara couldn’t be anywhere near Tokyo, sir.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really.” She lifted her tablet, typed. “Kaibara Shin died last week in a laboratory explosion in Yangon, Myanmar.” She offered him the tablet. “At least according to Interpol…Sir.”

Furuya took the tablet, his eyes widening as he read.

“There was only one person on that ship, as you can read yourself. Obviously agent Makimura. The Union planned on deploying him in Tokyo as a terrorist threat and a PR campaign for their new drug.” She looked back toward the cells. “These people obviously saved him, saved the city, if you permit me some melodrama, and instead of thanks and commendations, they get thrown in jail.”

Furuya thrust the tablet back to her, then looked toward the cells, toward Ryo, and his eyes narrowed. “Fine, what about City Hunter?”

The pivot almost caused whiplash, but she went with it like a pro. “Doesn’t exist. Urban legend.”

Ryo slowly blinked as she met his eyes.

“Which you’ll be able to read in my full report.” She looked at the two uniformed honchos behind her with a smirk. “If you’ll be read into it. The report was commissioned four years ago,” she continued. “I hope to have it ready later this afternoon, tomorrow morning at the latest.”

Superintendent-General Shishido nodded slightly.

“So who’s he?” Furuya snarled, pointing his finger at Ryo.

“Saeba Ryo, P.I.,” she shot back.

“He doesn’t exist!”

She tsked. “Sure, he does.”

“His fingerprints aren’t in any databases.”

She shrugged. “That used to be a good thing.”

“He has no ID on him,” Furuya insisted.

Kaori rolled her eyes. “Because he’s an idiot.” She grinned at Ryo. “Last time I checked, being an idiot wasn’t a criminal offense.”

A uniformed officer silently entered the room and handed a thick archive folder to the tall man in a gray suit. The man nodded, opened the file, nodded again, and handed it to Furuya.

“What is this?”

“Saeba’s file,” was the man’s calm reply. “I had it compiled in hard copy, because we’ve had a few computer glitches lately with files going missing.” His mouth twitched. “The man’s quite an important asset for the NPA and the MPD. So are the others. That’s why Superintendent-General Shishido and I immediately informed Commissioner General Nakajima as soon as we learned of what happened and rushed here with Agent Makimura as primary on the Union Teope investigation. To rectify the situation.”

Furuya waved the file away and opened his mouth to object, but Superintendent-General, who outranked him by far, was quicker. “Go see your cousin, agent Makimura. Tell him I’ll come around later in the afternoon to personally thank him for all he’s done.” He looked at the row of cells, “Release them,” then at Furuya, “A word, Senior Commissioner.”

He turned and strode out through the door, Furuya scrambling to follow.

 

Ryo’s head was still reeling when he and the others emerged from the keisatsu-sho.

Commissioner Nogami followed them out of the building, one arm around his shell-shocked daughter’s shoulders. He quickly bundled her in a car and rushed off.

“What the hell just happened?” Mick muttered.

Ryo had absolutely no idea. The only certainty was that he was tired, hungry, itching, and stinking.

“Even if someone explained it to me, I wouldn’t understand,” Umibozu replied.

“The only thing that matters is getting you checked out,” Miki countered, one arm circled tightly around his waist.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled.

“Like hell, you are,” she snapped back.

The militant click-clack of high heels made them all turn.

“Hey, gang.” Kaori grinned, pulled a pair of sunglasses from god-only-knew-where, and walked toward a black Ford Mustang parked at the curb. “Get some rest,” she murmured as she passed them. “And thanks for taking care of Yuki.”

Ryo stared after her with his mouth open. Was this it?

“Agent Makimura!” The tall man in the gray suit stopped beside them.

Kaori already had the driver’s door open. “Sir?”

He held the thick manila folder. “This is one hell of a work of fiction.”

She grinned. “Thank you, sir. I did my best.”

“I’m hanging onto it. In case the computers glitch.” His mouth twitched.

She nodded. “You do that, sir.”

“Take the weekend off,” he ordered. “Regenerate after that swim.”

“Thank you, sir.” She shrugged. “It was a good shoulder workout. Spaghetti-strap season is coming.”

She wiggled her fingers at them, slipped into her car, and was off.

“What the hell just happened?” Mick repeated his earlier question.

Without turning his head, the tall man in the gray suit handed Ryo the folder, and he took it on autopilot.

His swift intake of breath was the only outside indication of the fact that the contents surprised him, while his insides were thrown into utter turmoil, heart racing, blood roaring in his ears…

The folder contained an entire history of a man named Saeba Ryo. From his birth certificate to school records, details of military career and employment history, registrations files for a P.I. business, licences and permits for various weapons, meticulous records of his cooperation with the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department, mayoral commendations, numerous citations…

“Holy hell,” Mick muttered as he read over his shoulder. Then he slapped him on the back. “Now do you believe me?”

“You’re one lucky son of a bitch, Saeba,” the tall, gray-suited man told him and walked to a nondescript car. “Officer Takeda is coming to get you,” he informed them, nodding toward the approaching white passenger van. “It’s the least we can do. You’ll never hail a taxi smelling like rotten fish.”