The Fine Art of Uncanny Prediction, page 14
‘Word reached me. How or from whom I do not propose to say.’
‘But you acknowledge that Arinobu Jinno paid you large sums of money through the Soroban account over a period of forty-seven years?’
‘I will tell you as much as your client is entitled to know on that subject – and perhaps a little more. I met Arinobu Jinno through my work at ESS. I disclosed to him my ambition to enter the film industry. I saw the potential for cooperation where the construction of a studio and in due course cinemas was concerned. He agreed to invest in Kuraikagami when it was launched. I was grateful for that investment. I bought him out of his stake when I decided to assume independent control of the company. That was in … Showa fifty-two, when my media-mix strategy had really begun to pay off. It’s actually a pity Dr Dupont doesn’t exist, because if he did he’d find my reminiscences quite fascinating. Anyway, there was no Jinno money in my business from then on.’
‘I don’t understand. What about the Soroban money?’
Rinzaki sighs. ‘I kept none of it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Arinobu Jinno was a valued investor. I trusted him and he trusted me. I had also discovered by chance a certain … arrangement … that he had made in his life. Learning that I knew of it, he asked for my help in … managing the situation. I agreed to give that help. The Soroban account did not benefit me, directly or indirectly, other than in the way that favours tend to be returned, which can be highly advantageous in the commercial world. As it was, he deposited money in the account on a regular basis and I simply … passed it on.’
‘Passed it on … to whom?’
‘Teruki Jinno should have let this matter rest with his father. The payments have ceased. There was no need to hire someone such as you. He should have respected his father’s discretion.’
‘His discretion? Or his secrecy?’
‘There is often no difference. But we are past that, are we not? You must have the truth to report to him. Only then can you send in your bill.’
‘I make no apology for the work I do.’
‘Nor should you. I apologize.’ This – and the faint bow that accompanies it – rather disarms Kodaka. ‘So, the truth. Her name is Sonoko Zaizen.’ A woman. This is the answer. A long-term mistress, maintained by Arinobu Jinno, with Rinzaki as go-between. No blackmail. Just an arrangement. Just a favour, as an advance against other favours. Kodaka is surprised by how surprised he feels. ‘She worked briefly in Arinobu Jinno’s office. Then she became his mistress. He was – and he remained – entirely besotted with her, though he continued to be a devoted husband and father. He had no difficulty in … compartmentalizing his feelings. He was a disciplined man. But he wanted Zaizen to have the best of everything in the absence of the marriage he could not give her. And that is what she has had. My lawyer manages all financial and legal matters affecting her, funded by the Soroban account. And those funds are a long way from being exhausted.’
‘When they are exhausted?’
‘Thanks to my investment advice, I doubt they ever will be.’
‘Where does she live?’
‘I am not free to give you any details of her life. She is entitled to keep her own secrets.’
‘Does she have any children?’
‘I have said all that I intend to say about her.’
‘It’s not enough. How is my client to know this isn’t just … a cover story?’
‘What sordid circles you must move in, Kodaka-san. A cover story? Cover for what?’
‘You tell me.’
Rinzaki leans back in his chair and cocks his head as he looks at Kodaka. ‘Very well. I anticipated you would not take my word for it where this is concerned. I understand. It is the nature of your trade to be sceptical. So, I ask you: will you take her word for it?’
‘Are you offering me the chance to speak to Sonoko Zaizen?’
‘I am. Right now.’
‘She’s here?’
‘Yes. Shall I?’ Rinzaki picks up the small bell. ‘She’s in an adjoining room. Waiting to be called.’
Once again, Kodaka feels outmanoeuvred. Rinzaki knows what Zaizen will say. He may even have told her what to say. Everything that has happened since Kodaka arrived at Matsuda Sanso has been planned and rehearsed. But there is no way out of it. This is an offer he cannot refuse. ‘Call her in, then.’
Rinzaki rings the bell and carefully sets it back down on the table. Then he rises from his chair with surprising suppleness for a man of his age and turns towards the shoji by which they entered the room. It slides open and a woman enters.
She is dressed in a plain pink silk kimono. Her hair, black shot with grey, is pinned back. She is taller than most women of her generation – Kodaka would put her age at about the same as Rinzaki’s – but delicately built. Her face is barely lined, pale and fine-boned. Her gaze is placid but direct. She seems to be looking straight through him.
Rinzaki moves past her and exits onto the engawa. He slides the shoji shut behind him. Kodaka springs to his feet and bows to the woman, who bows in return.
‘You are Sonoko Zaizen?’
She nods. ‘I am.’ Her voice is soft and refined.
‘I am Kazuto Kodaka.’
‘Rinzaki-san has told me why you are here. Which is also why I am here.’
‘Shall we sit?’
‘I would … prefer not to.’
Kodaka rounds the table and takes a few steps towards her. Her gaze never leaves him. ‘I am sorry … to have to ask you some difficult questions.’
‘I appreciate your apology, Kodaka-san. But I have already agreed with Rinzaki-san that I need to state clearly what the nature of my relationship with Arinobu Jinno was. I would prefer not to have to do so. But … his son’s determination to learn the truth has left me no choice in the matter.’
‘You were Arinobu Jinno’s … mistress?’
‘I was.’
‘When did it begin?’
‘When I was seventeen. In Showa twenty-one.’
‘And you remained so …’
‘For the rest of his life.’
‘He treated you well?’
‘He was extremely generous.’
‘You have led … a comfortable life?’
‘Very.’
‘Where do you live, Zaizen-san?’
‘I prefer not to say. I do not want Teruki Jinno – or any other member of Arinobu’s family – to be able to contact me.’
‘But, wherever it is, Arinobu Jinno paid for it?’
‘He did.’
‘And every other advantage you have enjoyed.’
‘Yes. But those advantages have not included marriage … or a family of my own.’
‘You have no children?’
‘I bore Arinobu a son. In Showa thirty. He died of Asian influenza the following year.’
‘I am sorry to hear that.’
‘Thank you. It was a long time ago. But in other ways … not so long.’
‘How often did you and Arinobu … meet?’
‘As often as his commitments allowed. Playing golf. Travelling on business. I believe they were what he claimed to be doing when he was with me. Our time together … was never long enough.’
That last phrase lodges itself in Kodaka’s thoughts. She is effectively declaring that they loved each other. It was more than simply a pleasurable and rewarding arrangement. ‘Do you think it odd that his family had no suspicion of his relationship with you?’
‘Arinobu was a discreet and careful man. Even so, he told me he believed his wife realized there was another woman in his life.’
‘Realized – but said nothing?’
‘Wives often do … so I am told.’
‘This will come as a shock to Teruki Jinno.’
‘I am sorry for that.’
‘I’m not sure he’ll be able to believe it.’
‘Yet he must. It is the truth.’
‘How can he know that?’
‘You want proof, Kodaka-san? Rinzaki-san said you would. And so … I have brought proof.’ She slips something out of the waist-tuck of her kimono. ‘Arinobu always sent me a New Year card. This is the last one I received.’
She steps forward and hands the card to Kodaka. It is a standard New Year greetings postcard, decorated with a colourful depiction of a dog – the zodiacal sign for 1994. It must have been sent in an envelope, since, turning it over, Kodaka sees there is neither address nor stamp on the back, only her handwritten name – Sonoko. But, as she has already said, Arinobu Jinno was a discreet and careful man.
On the front of the card, below the dog, is a message, also handwritten: You are never out of my thoughts. It is not signed. For Sonoko, of course, it did not need to be. She knew who the sender was. The message itself could hardly be plainer. For a man as buttoned-up as Kodaka has been told Arinobu Jinno was, this was a declaration of undying love.
‘Show the card to Teruki Jinno,’ Zaizen continues. ‘He will recognize his father’s handwriting and know then that what I have told you is true.’
Kodaka rather suspects he will. ‘I will show it to him,’ he says.
‘I would like it back afterwards. Can you return it to Rinzaki-san please?’
Kodaka nods. ‘I will do that.’
‘Thank you.’
There is a momentary silence. Kodaka does not know what to say. He believes what Zaizen has told him. It is not the conclusion he expected. But it is the conclusion Teruki Jinno will have to live with.
‘I will leave now,’ says Zaizen softly.
And she does, Kodaka finding no words by way of farewell. It is understood between them that they will not meet again.
After she has left the room, Kodaka gathers up the recorder and the cassette tape and slips them into his pocket. Silence has reclaimed the interior of Matsuda Sanso. He’s not sure if he should stay and await Rinzaki’s return. A moment passes. He decides to leave.
He slides open the shoji, which Zaizen closed behind her, and steps out onto the engawa. Sonoko Zaizen is nowhere to be seen. But Rinzaki is there, standing by one of the posts supporting the roof, hands folded in front of him. It is hard to tell if he is leaning against the post. Kodaka suspects not.
‘Zaizen-san gave you everything you needed, I hope,’ he says quietly.
‘I have what she told me. And I have the New Year card.’
‘So, there is nothing else to be said. The story that did not have to be told has been told. And Teruki Jinno can have the truth he might wish to have lived without.’
Kodaka shrugs. ‘Yes.’
‘Zaizen-san wants the card returned to her, I believe. It is a matter of … sentiment.’
‘She said I could return it through you.’
‘Make an appointment with my secretary to call at my office when you have resolved matters with Teruki Jinno.’
‘I can just drop it in.’ Kodaka feels deflated by the anti-climactic end of his investigation. He has no wish for a further encounter with Rinzaki.
‘Please make an appointment, Kodaka-san. There will be more to discuss than a New Year card.’
‘There will?’
‘I want to hire you. I require the services of a private detective.’
‘To do what?’
‘Something entirely unconnected with the investigation you have carried out for Teruki Jinno. The fact is that I have been impressed by your professionalism.’ Rinzaki smiles. ‘I want you to find someone for me. It is one of your areas of expertise, I believe. Finding people … who do not wish to be found.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t work for you and Teruki Jinno.’
‘But your work for him will cease when you show him the card and relate Zaizen-san’s story.’
‘Probably, yes.’
‘So, then you will be free to work for me.’
‘I suppose.’
‘We are agreed, then? Whatever your terms are, I will accept them.’
‘Who do you want me to find?’
‘I will tell you when we next meet. It will be … something for you to look forward to.’ And his smile broadens.
2022
BUT THERE IT WAS. PART OF THE BUMPER AND FRONT WING OF A bright yellow Toyota sports car was clearly visible, protruding from beneath the tarpaulin. Studying it through the binoculars, Wada didn’t seriously doubt this was Daiju Endo’s car, as described to her by Funaki. Two questions were instantly raised in her mind. Why was it there? And where was Endo?
It was hard to imagine she could find the answers to those questions at Matsuda Sanso. The car had been placed in the barn to keep it out of sight. But for the barn door being open and the tarpaulin not quite large enough, it would have escaped her attention. But she’d seen it now. It was no longer possible to suppose that Endo’s disappearance wasn’t in some way connected with whoever owned the property.
She could find that out later. There were public registers she could consult. The more pressing concern was that the car was evidence. She needed photographs of it in situ to prove it was actually there. And she was never going to get a better chance of obtaining such photographs than now.
She studied the yard again and still saw no one moving around. Swinging the binoculars round, she could see dust rising from the area of woodland where work was being carried out. It was some way from the gate into the yard. With luck, she should be able to enter, get the pictures she needed and leave without being noticed. If she was noticed, she could claim to be a hiker who’d lost her way and was seeking directions.
She set off along the sloping fringe of the woods. The going would have been faster on the flatter, clearer ground close to the boundary wall, but that would have made her more conspicuous. She didn’t want to break cover until she had to. She paused every thirty metres or so to check the yard and gateway through the binoculars. Everything still looked reassuringly quiet. On she went.
The noise of chopping and sawing was louder by the time she reached a position close enough to the gate to warrant leaving the shelter of the trees. Still there seemed no problem. There was a Land Rover standing in the yard close to the barn, but there was no sign of its driver, or of anyone else moving around.
Wada cut down the slope onto the road where it curved round to the gate. Glancing to left and right as she went and walking at a pace just short of jogging, she headed straight in through the gate and across the yard towards the barn. So far so good.
She moved into the shadowy interior of the barn and slipped her phone out of her shoulder-bag. She took a picture from about ten metres’ range of the bright yellow wing of the Toyota and the tarpaulin-covered shape of the rest of the vehicle. Then she pulled the tarpaulin back to expose the number plate and took a picture of that as well.
Those two pictures were the minimum she needed. Everything else would be a bonus. She pushed the tarpaulin back over the roof of the car, wondering if she’d be able to open the driver’s door. And what she saw then was a splintered windscreen, cracks radiating from a jagged hole directly in front of the steering wheel. A blanket had been draped over the driver’s seat. As to why, a horrible suspicion began to form in Wada’s mind.
She tried the door handle. It yielded. The door opened.
At that moment she heard the engine of the Land Rover out in the yard rumble into life. Looking round, she saw a stockily built man in dark green overalls walking slowly towards her. He was shaven-headed, thick-necked and cold-eyed. In his right hand he held a large monkey wrench. He didn’t speak.
‘I’m leaving,’ said Wada, hoping that would somehow appease him. She let go of the door handle and stepped away from the car. She dropped her phone into her bag as she did so and saw him register the movement. He stopped a few metres from her, judging, it seemed to her, the moment to strike. Still he didn’t speak.
She took a step forward. He side-stepped to block her path to the door. He raised the wrench. His eyes narrowed. He was wearing gloves, she noticed. Why that particularly worried her she couldn’t have said, but somehow it did.
He wasn’t going to let her leave. And if she stayed there something bad – something very bad – was going to happen. That was clear to her. She had to get past him. He was big. He was strong. But he probably wasn’t as quick on his feet as she was on hers. It was her only advantage.
She grabbed the edge of the tarpaulin with both hands and pulled. It was heavy and slid as much by its own weight as by her pulling. But it came. The man lunged towards her. She had a good hold of the tarpaulin now and was able to push it into his path. His boots caught in the heavy folds. He stumbled. She let go, darted past him and ran for the door.
She heard him curse behind her as he struggled free. Then she was in the open air, racing towards the gate.
There was another man at the wheel of the Land Rover. It took him a second or two to react to her appearance. There was a grinding noise as he put the vehicle into gear and took off in pursuit.
She made it through the gate and turned towards the belt of trees. But the Land Rover sped past her and slewed to a halt, cutting her off. The driver gave three long blasts on the horn, then jumped out. He looked as formidable as the man in the barn, who was also on her tail by now. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw him running across the yard at a musclebound gait, aiming to cut off her retreat.
Running along the road was hopeless anyway. She’d rapidly be overhauled. There were voices from the direction of the dust-plumes up in the woods. They’d heard the horn. Her options were shrinking fast. The driver of the Land Rover moved round the bonnet and advanced towards her. She heard the other man shout, ‘Stop her.’ The jaws of the trap were closing.
Speed and nimbleness were the only assets she had to draw on. She ran up the slope towards the woods, away from the voices of the workers above her, away from the Land Rover and the road, but away also from her route back to the railway station.
She plunged into the woods and headed uphill, diagonally across the slope of the land, running and jumping through the undergrowth, dodging brambles and branches as best she could, half-aware of sharp, slashing blows to her legs and arms.
