Another Round

The midday sun beat down on Maho Kirishima. 

It almost seemed like the wind had dragged itself all the way from out to sea to buffet her personally; its howl rose over the rattling and twanging of shingles and power lines as it picked up speed on land. 

Each pitter after patter against the scorching pavement felt like a momentous effort in of itself.

She cursed the blown head gasket that had put her car in the shop. The transition to undercover work had meant turning in the unmarked cruiser she had been using for something more civilian, but the one they had replaced it with turned out to be a piece of junk.

Junk. That was all that she’d been digging up ever since she’d been roped into this joke of an operation. An operation that was thrown together in less than a week. 

At first, she had consoled herself that this would surely prompt her superiors to address the issue of command. But far from clarifying their hierarchy, it only further confused it. 

But if headquarters had been persuaded to commit assets to this beyond the apparent need, then there surely must be something to it, she had thought. In spite of her reservations, Maho had gone into this assured that it would be a meaningful tasking. 

It took all of two weeks, half the time given to produce evidence, for her to start thinking that her superiors had been overly indulgent. Why had they let the foreigners talk them into this time sink? 

Everything came back to that kid, who couldn't have been much older than the teenagers he had been so eager to go in among. The boy who seemed more alive shooting than he ever could be in schooling. On the face of it, it was a ridiculous move to send someone like that for a joint operation. 

The Americans were up to something, and she could only hope that she wasn't the only one who thought so. It seemed so obvious. 

Why else would they bring in a kid into this?

Maho could not bear to consider that there couldn't be a damn good reason.

In any case, international intrigue was not her place. She had to consider the concrete facts of the mission. That she had a lot of, but nothing that gave her any comfort.

She had gleaned nothing from the late nurse’s background and activities, after an exhaustive link analysis of all of the data that this mystery man had ever accumulated over his lifetime. She had gone over all of it again and again, but nothing she did could produce actionable intelligence. 

By all accounts, he had lived a perfectly unremarkable life, up to the very end. Of course, that begged an obvious question: how could someone like him turn up at that warehouse a raving lunatic? 

His eyes then had been burned into Maho's memory. Her mind’s eye should have laid him bare, yet all she found was a black pit. 

She forced herself back to the present. The obvious question was not so obvious, seeing as she had failed to answer it. Neither money or paper for her to follow, nor was there any other kind of trail. What little she did have, such as the bogus names the group had used to arrange the collection’s transport, were useless. 

Maho was at an end, and that was why she was out here on a Tuesday, sweating it out with the best of them. Reaching her destination in one of the more built-up parts of the city, she took advantage of the downtime to wipe herself off. 

Damn the heat. Damn this debacle. This would be so much easier if they hadn’t sent her alone, she thought.

More than once, she had been tempted to cut her losses and treat the remaining two weeks as a paid vacation. But seeing the American still treat this operation so seriously, she could never do that. And she would never let pass this opportunity to prove herself.

They had a job to do and they would do it right. On that she and “Theo” could at least agree. 

If only he wasn’t such a pain to work with.

The has-been she was making this trek for was hardly a dream to work with either, but Maho at least knew where she stood with him. His attempts at fraternization were superficial and easily dealt with, their command relationship clear-cut: superior and subordinate. She liked that simplicity. 

If you speak of it, the shadow appears. The man she was waiting on was here, and right on time. 

Making up her mind that she deserved a return-trip visit to that bathhouse she passed by a few blocks back, she would brook no more delay. Confirming that the target had darted into the usual place, she followed after him into the small restaurant that called itself Inasa-masu.

Maho usually didn’t set out to ruin someone else’s day, but needs must.

***

“Oi, old man. The usual.”

Tokura Ken leaned against the counter in what he considered his watering hole, beating a retreat from the drudgery of the present for a while. He had to call again to get the ear of the guy working the shop. That was Konaka: cook, server and proprietor of this quaint establishment.

Konaka wasn't always alone; in his employ was a high-school student that helped part-time in serving and cooking. Tokura sometimes chanced on the girl, but at this hour it was a one-man-show. 

Good thing then, that it wasn't exactly bustling. Besides him, there were three salarymen huddled together, some of the few others who chose this place for lunch regularly. 

Konaka set a bottle of shochu down in front of him and went back to his kitchen-work, all without a word. He was something alright; flat-nosed, thick-lipped and coarse-skinned, he’d recently traded a salt-and-pepper mane for a shaved head that exposed his rough and scabby scalp. His eyes bulged like that of the fish he made his living cooking, and he had a habit of staring right through you with his mouth open. 

Small wonder then that he even had the regular customers at all. Not a bad guy once you got to know him, though– he got into the culinary business after a stint as a writer for television and movies way back when. As a cook he was a pretty decent one, and quick too; Tokura usually only had to wait a few minutes for Konaka to follow up the shochu with the soy-braised fish set, and today was no different. 

Tokura was getting ready to chow down, when he noticed another customer enter the shop out of the corner of his eye. Something about the figure was easy on the eyes, and so he turned his full attention to the arrival. He swiveled his chair a quarter-turn, ready to hit on the hot new thing that just took a seat right next to him–

And full up in his face was the spook from Central, someone he sincerely wished he’d never have to see again. 

Shit. That’s my plans down the drain.

He might have had the ambush sprung on him, but Tokura seized the initiative by speaking first. 

“Inspector Kirishima. I take it you’re taking me up on that offer for dinner? This isn’t really the kind of joint I had in mind, though.”

His eyes adjusted to the light, and he saw that she was drenched. That shirt clung to her real nicely, he thought. Then he realized that his staring was a bit too obvious. 

“Bad idea to let all that sweat dry out. Coffee? My friend here could fix one up real quick.” he said quickly. 

For now, Kirishima was busy doing what she could with a handkerchief to freshen up. Tokura kept on yammering.

“Did you have to walk here from the bus stop? That’s rough. Weather’s really on the fritz these days, did you know they’re even calling it the fifth season now? So, what brings you around these parts again? Got someplace to be? I can drive you if you wa–“

“We’re conducting a follow-up on that warehouse raid.” Kirishima said coolly, cutting him off. 

Sharp and straight to the point, thought Tokura. Dammit, and here he thought they’d be one and done and leave it at that. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate a little excitement every once in a while, but the idea of spooks skulking around his city was downright distasteful. He decided that clearing out of here was the only move, before she could hook him on anything. Finishing his lunch in record time, Tokura made a show of looking at his watch and got up to leave.

“Sorry, but I’m on the clock. Break’s over just about– now.”

“We have a part in it that requires your skills, Assistant Inspector.” 

Tokura half-turned and gave the lady his best get-lost face. “Talk to my boss then.”

“I’m talking to you.” she said dryly. Not in the mood for cheek, he raised his voice. 

“Listen, lady. Why does it have to be me? It’s not like anybody else in the force here has anything better to do.” 

The three office workers were eyeing them now, curious at the disturbance. Out of courtesy to Konaka, Tokura sat down again, with the unfortunate side-effect of encouraging the spook to continue.

“You were with the Special Investigation Team back in Tokyo. A skillset like yours isn’t easy to come by around these parts.” 

The mention of his past hit Tokura like a bolt from the blue.

“Did your homework, huh?” A hint of rancor began to creep behind his nonchalance. 

“Then you should know why I ended up here. So I’m gonna ask again, and I better get an answer or I’m outta here– why does it have to be me?” 

“I know what happened off-the-record too.” she rejoined.

“You and every cop this side of the Edo.” 

“I can help you get your foot back in the door, if you do this for us. You do want your old job back, yes?” the spook said. 

Tokura stared at her for a long time, fighting down the storm of emotions threatening to show. As naturally suspicious as he was of the spook, it didn’t take much more than the offer of his old job to catch his ear.

Sensing that she wasn’t going to let him go either way, he deigned to give dancing to her tune a go.

“Fine. What do I have to do?” he said, resigned. 

The broad motioned for them to move to a more private nook of the restaurant, out of sight from the entrance and farther from the others, before she started explaining. 

“You’ll be under my employ for two weeks. It’s simple, really, hardly any legwork involved. Think of it as being an adjutant– all you have to do is filter all reports that the precinct receives for unusual incidents, and pass them on to me.”

“Unusual?” 

Tokura gave her an incredulous look. To a town like this, there was a lot that counted for unusual; things they wouldn’t even waste ink on in the city. 

“Anything that could lead us to any items that we might have missed in the warehouse raid.” she replied. 

“You mean to say we didn’t get all of them?”

“No, as far as we know we did. My superiors simply want to make sure nothing slipped through the cracks.” 

“Uh-huh. What about the suspect your man bagged?” 

“Need-to-know, Tokura-san.” came her predictable answer; he better get used to that. 

“Then why even bother with this under-the-counter shit? You already worked through my boss before, haven’t you? That’s how you got stuck with me in the first place.” he said stiffly, trying a different approach.

“That’s no longer possible. We are operating under revised procedures. There is reason to believe that certain local authorities may be compromised.”  

Tokura knew a little bit of how to speak spook himself. What she was really saying was that they didn’t anybody want to know that they bungled the follow-on. 

But he didn’t think the world of his boss and the local government either; the spook leaving them out of this might be the first good idea from her yet. 

They’re compromised, yeah, just not maybe in the way you’re thinking.

“I don’t know, I could just as well go to my boss and break this thing wide open.” he said probingly. 

“Sure. But I’m sure you’re smart enough to realize how that will work out.” 

That confirmed it. This broad wasn’t ordinary NPA, and the whole thing stank to high heaven. 

Seemingly satisfied that he got the message, Kirishima slid a note over the table. It was a place and a time: Miyatsuko, a hostel not far from here, a day from now.

“Keep it up with your regular routine. This is how to get in touch next. Memorize it and burn it. I don’t have to tell you all about opsec. You are not to disclose details of this to anybody, is that clear?” 

“Couldn’t be clearer. But you still haven’t answered my question. Why do you need me, specifically? Why can’t you just send for one of your buddies over from Central?” he put in. 

“You kept yourself honest when everybody else didn’t want to rock the boat. I need someone like that- someone I can trust.” she answered easily. 

No hesitation. She must have missed her calling to be an actress, he thought.

“Start immediately. Have something for me at our next meeting. Be there on time.” she said, emphasizing those last words like they meant life or death. 

With that, the spook made like a ball and bounced. Left by his lonesome, Ken lit up a smoke. Not a single smidge of trust in their bones with her types, and he hadn't any to spare for them either. 

Honest? Damn lot of good that did him. Skillset? Didn’t hurt that a never-was like him was easy to manage too. 

Let them think that. Wasn't like they were wrong. If he couldn’t tell them to shove it, then he could at least make sure they didn’t stick their grubby mitts in anything they shouldn’t. 

Eventually, Tokura went back to the counter to pay up. He accidentally brushed against something in his wallet while taking out cash– a photo of a woman and a baby. He straightened the picture and daydreamed of days gone, like many a time before.

It’s not the job.

Not without a ton of bitching, he went off back to the station to see if he could remember where the archives section was.