Tokyo Blues
Chapter 25
No matter how hard I clenched my fingers around the steering wheel, my hands were shaking uncontrollably, and I fear the only reason I did not black out was Kudo's looming presence on the passenger seat. His cold stare made me hold on to what remained of my dignity.
We drove through Tokyo in silence, and as soon as we left the city's megalopolis the sky turned pitch black. There were no neon lights, no patchinko parlors and no bright plasma screens on skyscraper facades that illuminated the air which remained trapped beneath Tokyo's dome of smog.
The headlights of the car behind us seemed to stare angrily out at me from the rear view mirror. Fujimiya and the rest of his team were following us in a Land Cruiser whose height brought them up to eye level with the Honda, and I was glad it was dark and I was spared the sight of Fujimiya's eyes which had turned dark with hatred when he had dialed his sister's phone number and one of Iwase's agents had answered.
Me accompanying the killer troop was not part of the plan, but the barrel of a gun against my temple was a most convincing argument that justified a change of mind. The address my colleague had given me led us into the outskirts of the industrial plain that consisted mostly of construction sites and newly finished warehouses not yet in use.
I pulled up in front of the long side of a flat-roof concrete bulding. I could make out two large roller shutters; both were closed. As soon as I turned off the engine eight men clad in black stepped out of the shadows and approached the cars with drawn guns.
Before I had the chance to grasp the full extend of the danger I was in Kudo opened the door and left the car with hands raised high over his head. I did the same, and hands in thick leather gloves grasped me hard, shoved me against the car and started to search my body for concealed weapons.
The whole procedure was degrading, and I felt shaken and debased when finally the men led me and my companions around the building and through a small steel door.
Inside, caged neon lights provided enough illumination to project a sense of vastness but were too weak to chase away the shadows that engulfed the surroundings. To the left, rows of ceiling-high, worryingly instable looking metal shelves reached from one end of the hall to the other. They carried everything from massive looking metal constructs to trays of screws and flexible hoses.
To the right I saw huge islands of boxes, packed and ready for shipment. In one of the narrow corridors that separated the stacks there was movement in the darkness. More agents, I thought.
I was shoved forward, towards a small group of people, and I was relieved to find Iwase among them. The man who had escorted me with a gun shoved against the back of my neck lowered his weapon when Iwase ordered him to do so. I stepped up to my former colleague and he gave me an approving smile and a clap on the shoulder.
"Well done, Kitahara. You have no idea what tonight's success means to us."
I would have smiled, but I did not feel like it, because I was still surrouned by armed men who radiated more danger than Fujimiya ever had. Iwase turned his attention to the four captives now who had been forced to kneel on the floor. Behind each of them stood one guard with a gun pressed to the back of their necks.
It was not Iwase who spoke up but the well-dressed man who stood next to him. He wore a steel grey suit and looked out at Fujimiya and the others from behind a pair of rimless glasses. His black hair was slicked back, his skin clean shaven. I did not recognize him from anywhere.
"I am assuming that you gentlemen are the infamous 'Weiss', Kritiker's most efficient pack of terriers", he said. It was not a question, and no one answered.
"Listen, Weiss. My offer to you is a position within my troops in exchange for information on Kritiker," he continued. "A very generous offer, I think, because any information I need I will be able to get from you one way or another, and you know it."
His words pierced my head like bolts of ice. Was the man talking about torture? I looked at Iwase who had put on a blank expression and ignored me. For the first time I had to swallow a lump of doubt that crept up from my stomach and clogged my throat. Who exactly was I working for?
"I want my sister", Fujimiya growled. "You will get the information you want as soon as I have her. Otherwise I will activate a hidden transmitter and Kritiker will be here within ten minutes."
"That is more time than I need. I have expected contingencies, and my men have prepared the area accordingly. But if talking comes easier to you in presence of Miss Fujimiya I am glad to be of assistance."
He nodded to a red-haired gaijin who stood next to him. The man disappeared behind a crate of boxes, and after half a minute reappeared with a limp bundle in his arms. He half carried, half dragged it up to his boss, and when he stepped out of the shadow my blood froze.
Aya was gagged, her clothes torn and dirty. She was awake but put up no fight. The guard had one arm draped around her chest, the other one around her waist. Her legs draggled lifelessly on the ground.
"Aya!" Fujimiya yelled and jumped to his feet, but his guard was quicker. I realized that he had no gun but a tazer pressed against Fujimiya's neck, and he used it. Aya's brother tumbled to the floor in a heap, the fingers of his outstreched hand twitching uncontrollably.
Aya's gaze did not linger on her brother. Instead, she twisted her torso in the gaijin's arms enough to be able to get a good look at me. She did not even seem angry. Her broken eyes held an accusation that was directed at me. 'See what you did? This is your doing.'
Her face showed cuts and bruises, as did the skin that was left bare by her soiled t-shirt. Now that she was close to me a sharp smell entered my nose, and I saw a dark stain on her pants. They had not even let her use the bathroom.