Chapter 33
Jack and Sean got hastily up from the seats they had taken while waiting for their ladyfriends. Svetlana and Maria moved eagerly over to their gentlemen, bright smiles on their lovely faces.
"Preevet! Dobre dven, Svetlana, "Sean greeted Svetlana, his face lighting up in happiness. "Kak dela?"
"Otlichno, spasiba,"Svetlana replied, a happy smile on her lovely face. "I am very well, Sean."
"Excellent, is it?" Sean responded with a soft warm laugh. "Aye, I'll be believin' that, so I will." Sean then canted his head, obviously scrutinizing the lovely girl before him. "There's somethin' different about yeh, lass," he mused, idly stroking his left cheek ruff a moment, then grinned in understanding. "Ye've changed yer hair, so yeh have," Sean observed, then smiled appreciatively, his green eyes twinkling. "I like it, me lovely angel…you look magnificent that way, so yeh do."
Svetlana beamed at Sean's praise…well, at least until Maria giggled softly, making her frown. "Just you hush, Maria," she warned softly, nearly whispering. "Not a single word…do you hear?"
Sean arched one dark brow, his head canting the other way now, as he turned his attention to Maria. "A case o' the giggles, is it, Maria?" Sean questioned, grinning. "What's ticklin' yer funny bone, lass?"
Maria blushed, flicking her eyes first to Svetlana apologetically, then set her clear blue eyes on Sean. "Oh, do not mind me. It is nothing, Sean," Maria answered a bit hastily, though she still grinned. "You must understand…" Maria then looked over to Svetlana.
Svetlana closed her big brown eyes wearily, sighed through her nostrils, then nodded.
"As I was saying," Maria continued, smiling confidentally over at her friend. "You must understand, tovarisch…Svetlana has had a trying day this day."
"Oh?" Sean queried, eyeing Svetlana with concern, which made her smile despite what was about to be discussed. Sean looked into Svetlana's eyes then. "What's troublin' yeh, Svetlana?"
"Oh, nothing life-threatening or any such thing," Maria hastily assured the now concerned lynx gent. "It is just that Madame and Naomi have been waging a campaign of sort…trying to convince our Svetlana here to become the newest face of C'est Sing…"
Sean blinked at that news, rocked back on his heels momentarily. "God save Ireland," he murmured, surprised.
"They are all crazy, Sean," Svetlana told him, reaching out to take his hand shyly, obviously very embarrassed by all this attention. "Me? A cover model for Madame? Bozhe moi…it is madness!"
Sean gently squeezed Svetlana's little hand encouragingly, turning his face to hers. "Madness?" Sean repeated, then shook his head, giving Svetlana a clever smile. "Don't know about that, angel," he pointed out, "yeh are a wee lovely darlin' an' that's a fact."
Svetlana blushed, yet grinned at Sean's flattery, looking away. "Hush, you!" she protested. "There are many women just as lovely as me."
Sean then frowned, and shook his head. "Sorry, darlin'," Sean assured her, "but yer wrong on that one, so yeh are. Yer the most gorgeous woman I've ever set eyes upon." Sean's green eyes revealed his feelings on that subject plain enough. "Tell the woman, Jack me lad…"
"Too right, mate," Jack answered, nodding his agreement with his friend, "Yer sheila there's got a face men'd sure to be takin' note of." Jack then turned his gaze to Maria, and smiled his most charming smile. "Me Maria here's got much the same problem, yeh see…"
Maria blinked, then grinned, elbowing Jack in the ribs, giggling. "Vanya, what a flatterer you are," she proclaimed.
"Flatterer am I?" Jack protested, then thought about it. He then shook his head. "'Pon me honor, luv…Jack Turner tells nuthin' but the truth." He held his hand as if swearing an oath.
"Jack Turner," Maria began, trying to sound stern…but, she couldn't keep it up, and laughed, reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss him upon his right cheek. "You are impossible!"
"Da, as is my Sean," Svetlana tossed out, squeezing his hand, her dark eyes twinkling with amusement and her happiness.
Sean laughed softly. "Well, like as I figure it," Sean drawled in his soft Irish brogue, "someone's got to set the poor lass straight. She's as lovely as an Irish breeze, so she is. Dark, gleamin' hair like black silk, and them big doe-like brown eyes o' hers, an' then…ooh, she's got a figure that'd stop traffic, so she does…"
"Sean Michael Mallory," Svetlana growled then, blushing furiously, and grabbed his nearest cheek ruff and pulled his face down to hers. Her big brown eyes narrowed a moment---as if she were going to give him a piece of her mind---when Svetlana instead leaned forward and lightly kissed a most startled Sean upon the lips once. The little Ukrainian woman blushed at her forwardness, but perservered. "Sean," she murmured to him. "Spasiba, I---I don't know what to say."
Sean blinked repeatedly after Svetlana released her hold on his cheek fur, and stood up tall. He gazed down at the still blushing Svetlana, the oddest look on his face. "Don't mention it, angel," Sean finally managed to say, the barest hint of smile remaining on his face from then on. "Yer welcome."
"Oh, and speaking of welcome," Svetlana posed, her skin still tingling after her impulsive kiss with Sean. "I would like to welcome our newest Executive of C'est Sing, my fine gentlemen…Ms. Maria Foloreva!"
"Svetlana!" Maria gasped, then grinned. "I was saving telling them that for during lunch."
"What's this?" Jack demanded, with a grin of his own. "Yeh mean that someone---other than meself, of course---realizes just how talented this woman really is?"
"Vanya, hush!" Maria chided him, blushing softly at his praise of her. "Let Svetlana talk."
"Maria has agreed to take Naomi's old job as Project Director," Svetlana continued to explain. "Naomi is now Executive Director of C'est Sing, you see…so the post was vacant…until now, of course."
Sean looked to Jack, who beamed with pride, then back at Maria, who looked back at them with a mixture of pride and embarrassment. "Nicely done, Maria," Sean congratulated her, smiling. "Always knew ye'd be a girl goin' places, so I did."
"Spasiba, Sean," Maria thanked him. "You are too kind."
"Too kind, nuthin'!" Jack proclaimed, then wrapped his arms around Maria, picked her bodily up, and proceeded to whirl her about in the air three times, whooping his delight. "Super, luv! Just bloody super!" he intoned.
"Vanya! Put me down!" Maria laughed, her head whirling a bit. She leaned against Jack's sure bulk a moment after he set her down, and then smiled up at the giant who was doing a very neat job of winning a way into her heart. "It is nothing, do not make such a fuss."
"Fuss?" Jack countered. "You got promoted, luv! That's cause fer celebration, girl!"
"Da, I suppose," Maria agreed after a moment. She then looked up into Jack's mesmerizing blue eyes. "Vanya…Naomi, she told me that she and Madame asked you if you thought I was suited for this promotion, da?" Maria looked carefully into his eyes, waiting.
"Too right they did," Jack agreed. "Goes to show you those two sheilas got some good heads on those shoulder of there, eh?"
"Oh, Vanya," Maria cried softly, hugging him. "Thank you so much for your help."
"Pff, away with you, luv!" Jack told her, downplaying his role. "Look, Maria…I simply told those two the truth. Nuthin' more, nuthin' less." Jack saw Sean give him 'the look', one that informed him that Sean knew he'd done just a bit more than 'told them the truth'. Sean nodded appreciatively to his big friend, proud of him.
"Well, me lovely lasses," Sean began, purposefully holding out his arm to Svetlana, who grinned and looped her arm in his. "It appears---so it does---that we've all got cause to celebrate. So, let's be off to do some proper celebratin' then!" Sean then put his hand over where Svetlana had her small hand on his forearm, then spoke again. "I've just the place, so I do….McClanahan's Place…a fine Irish eatery. Oh…and did I neglect to mention…I'm buyin'!"
Jack laughed. "That's me Sean…a generous soul to a fault, he is!"
"At least as long as I'm buyin', that is," Sean whispered to Svetlana, who giggled, charming Sean to no end.
"C'mon, luv," Jack announced grandly, as Maria hooked her arm in his. "Have either of you two ever eaten Irish before? If not, ye're in for a rare treat."
The two couples proceeded down the street toward McClanahan's, their intended destination, all four of them enjoying the bright, partly sunny Parisian day.
Svetlana then remembered something, and spoke up as they walked. "Oh! I nearly forgot! Today is the day when Bentley intends to ask Madame to marry him!" Svetlana blurted out, then sighed, leaning her head against Sean's strong shoulder a moment. "Isn't that so romantic?"
"Da, it is, my Svetlana," Maria added. "In addition to all that, though, it will give our boys an opportunity to meet our friends in the Cooper Gang, nyet?"
"Nearly forgot about that," Sean replied with a smile, shaking his head in wonder. "I must admit, so I will, that I'm more than a little curious to be meetin' the likes o' Sly Cooper."
"You will like him, Sean," Svetlana assured him, wanting and hoping it would be the case.
"Aye, I'm sure I will, darlin'," Sean ventured, giving Svetlana a clever small wink. "It'll provide me a sterlin' opportunity to get to know the man who helped my Svetlana---oh, and Maria too, o' course!---escape the Russian mob."
"You will see, da?" Maria pointed out then to both of the fellas. "There is only one Sly Cooper. Oh, and his lovely Carmelita too."
"Aye, I remember her," Sean agreed. "That's one formidable woman. I'm not sure I envy our Mr. Cooper or not…"
"Carmelita is a lovely woman!" Svetlana told him, giving him a remonstrative swat on his arm. "You will see."
"No doubt I will, darlin'," Sean told her, laughing. "No doubt I will…"
The conversation continued as they made their way inside McClanahan's, to begin their celebration, and to discuss what might be expected upon this most remarkable of nights about to come…
Meanwhile, at Paris Interpol HQ, Interrogation Room Three…
Captain Trish Connelly ducked inside the interrogation room, and spotted the two Japanese women still deep in conversation. That conversation, however, halted just as soon as they saw Trish. As Trish moved to take a seat across the table from the two, she could not help but notice the expressions on both the girls' faces. Especially the one on Keiko Zuikawa's unblemished, spotted face.
"Yeh sent fer me?" Trish ventured, straightening her jacket, then sitting.
"Hai, Captain," Nyoko responded in her oh-so-polite tone. "You see, my client Ms. Zuikawa, er…would like to provide information to you, but only in return for the chance of a much reduced sentence."
"Ah, so yeh've changed yer mind then, eh lass?" Trish demanded of Keiko, who did not respond. "Fine, be that way then." Trish turned toward Nyoko. "Now, you've said your client's got information for me?"
"Hai, she does," Nyoko assured Trish, nodding her head emphatically. "Lady Zuikawa does understand that she will most likely be convicted and will be forced to serve time in prison. She is not thrilled with that prospect, let me assure you." Nyoko paused a moment, and when Trish nodded, she continued. "However, she also knows what exactly will happen to her if you are forced to extradite her to Japan."
"Aye," Trish replied, nodding her head. "She's told me about that, so she has."
"Very good," Nyoko responded. "That makes things clearer on both sides. Now, due to Lady Zuikawa's family's influential position in her homeland, the Japanese government would be most appreciative if any media attention to this case could be kept to an absolute minimum." Nyoko's golden brown eyes tentatively searched Trish's bright green ones. "You understand, neh?"
"Aye, I understand," Trish replied matter-of-factly. "You'll be wantin' Interpol to arrest yer client, keepin' her safe in France, behind bars in a French jail. Is
that what I'm hearin', lass?"
"Hai, that is so," Nyoko agreed, nodding after she got a curt nod from Keiko herself.
"Agreed," Trish allowed, but then pointed out. "But do realize, Ms. Tozo, that even if Ms. Zuikawa here provides Interpol with this information, she's still goin' to be doing a goodly amount of time behind bars. Just so you realize, o' course."
"Hai, I understand," Keiko answered, for the first time since Trish walked in. "I have some very valuable information, Captain. But, I will allow you and Interpol to determine just how valuable it is, neh?"
"That'd be the way o' thing, all right," Trish confirmed. "So, may I record this conversation, Ms. Zuikawa?" She then looked to Nyoko. "Any objections, Counsel?"
Nyoko briefly conferred with Keiko in hushed Japanese, then turned to Trish. "That is acceptable, Captain," Nyoko responded. "However, my client humbly requests you include someone from your Immigation and Naturalization department. They will be most interested in what my client has to say."
"Is that so?" Trish countered, intrigued, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "Aye, I can do that. Do give me a moment though." Trish got up and moved to the room's door. "Constable Dombrowski? Could yeh be a love and get Lieutenant Walter Dale, INS up here, smart-like?"
Dombrowski nodded, giving Trish a smile. "Yes. At once, Captain," the big Polish elk replied, then turned and moved away.
Trish returned to her seat, and rested her elbows on the table, gazing pointedly at Keiko, who simply refused to meet her intent green gaze.
Ten minutes later…
"Trish? You wanted to see me?" a voice inquired, forcing the three occupants of the interrogation room to look up. They saw a tall, slender otter gentleman, dressed in a dapper dark grey two-piece suit, with a pewter color tie and a light blue shirt beneath his suitcoat. The otter fellow had a short neat silvery hair and a sweeping matching moustache.
"Aye, Walter, I did," Trish answered, getting up to greet the man. She shook hands with him with genuine pleasure, then ushered him over to sit beside her at the table across from Keiko and her attorney. "Ms. Zuikawa here says she's got some information she thinks you'll be keen to hear, so she does."
Walter nodded, sitting down, and making himself comfortable in his chair. "Now, please continue, Ms. Zuikawa," Walter suggested, as Trish too sat down, and activated the mini-recorder on the table top.
"Greetings, Lieutenant," Keiko said, nodding. "Now, I know I will be going to jail, but when I do, I plan to have some rather noble company." Keiko's appended smile was slim and most cruel-seeming.
"I'm not quite certain what you mean, Miss," Walter Dale, a proper Brit, asked in a curious, slightly confused voice.
"Please, allow me to explain, neh?" Keiko answered, flicking her slanted brown eyes Walter's way. "I am almost certain that both of you have heard the name of Senji Zuikawa, hmm?"
"Aye," Trish proclaimed simply.
"Quite," Walter supplied, arching one eyebrow. "He's that billionaire shipping chappie, is he not?"
Keiko smiled indulgently. "Hai, you are correct. Now…you may know of my father as a shipping magnate. However, does anyone really know just what it is he ships?"
"Allow me, Trish," Dale responded, nodding once over at Trish, who grinned and bade him to continue. "Well, young lady, Zuikawa Shipping Lines, for the most part at least, is the premier supplier of Japanese merchandise, electronics, retail appliances, that sort of thing…but, they specialize in containerized auto shipments, I do believe."
"Hai, this is so, Lt. Dale," Keiko acknowledged, again giving Walter a pleased smile. "Millions of dollars worth…each and every day, in fact." Keiko then brushed her cheek with her cuffed hands. "As you said, he primarily ships automobiles. Mostly to the United States, and mostly in large shipping containers."
"Yes, we've gone over that, Miss," Dale assured her, narrowing his amethyst-hued eyes wearily. "Though, now that you do mention it, most of them are marked 'Special Delivery'…and most seemed to be addressed to one Y. Ryoken, L.L.C. Which, if I'm not mistaken, is a licensed importer of some sort in the Los Angeles area." Walter pronounced 'Los Angeles' the typical British way, saying "An-gel-eze' instead of the American way of 'An-gel-ess'.
"Again, hai…you are correct," Keiko told him, bowing her head once. "However, please forgive me, but you are indeed mistaken, Mr. Dale," she added, causing Walter to blink in surprise. "Y. Ryoken is no importer in Los Angeles. Neh, it is something far far different. Would it help you to understand what the 'Y' in Y. Ryoken stands for?" Keiko waited a dramatic moment, then added. "The 'Y' stands for Yakuza. Does that surprise you, Lieutenant?"
"Keiko…no!" Nyoko gasped, looking up and over at her friend, shocked and surprised.
"Hold on now, luv. What's this Yakuza business?" Trish demanded.
Keiko folded her hands inside the wide sleeves of her kimono, saying nothing. Nyoko, on the other hand, looked as pale as a ghost to the most startled Trish. "C-Captain Connelly? Please, allow me to explain. The Yakuza is but another word for the Japanese Mafia, or organized crime."
"Bloody Mary and Joseph," Trish hissed, imagining the worst, her green eyes going very wide indeed.
"Quite," Walter Dale blurted, nodding along with Trish.
It was only then that Keiko continued, smiling a clever smile again. "Those containers, that are supposed to contain automobiles, however contain anything but. Oh, not the weapons or explosives you undoubtedly fear, Captain and Lieutenant," Keiko assured them.
Trish, Nyoko, and Walter all heaved obvious sighs of relief.
"Neh," Keiko resumed, again smiling her Cheshire-like grin. "Those containers---believe it if you will---contain people. Men, women, even children."
"God save Ireland," Trish proclaimed, crossing herself even as she blinked rapidly yet again.
"And Japan as well, Captain," Keiko added, not smiling now. "Those people---Chinese, Korean, and Japanese poor---are gulled by the Yakusa, which convince them that there is a better life across the ocean in America. And, these people, so miserable and desperately poor, believe them!"
"Much like those unscrupulous types in Mexico and Latin America, it seems," Walter Dale surmised, his lips thin with disapproval.
Keiko shrugged, not knowing anything at all about that. "Perhaps," she allowed, then continued. "For one hundred U.S. dollars each, these would-be immigrants are granted passage---upon a Zuikawa Shipping Line vessel---to their new better life." Keiko then paused, her lips thinning as she tried to figure out the best way to present what she still had to tell. "They are then sorted, so many men, so many women, so many children…and deposited into one of my father's shipping containers."
"Ghastly," Walter Dale grumbled, his moustaches quivering in outrage.
"Hai, it is," Keiko agreed. "They are placed---twenty souls per container---inside, and along with prepackaged food and water, they are sealed in. The average journey takes twenty-five days. As you might already understand, the conditions inside these containers are hellish. No sanitary facilities, no heat, no light but for candles."
"They're worse than bloody slavers!" Trish growled, imagining wee kiddies being forced to fight for food and water, living in squalor.
"Again, hai," Keiko said woodenly, her eyes dull. "Needless to say, many do die on such journeys, their corpses moved aside from the living. The mortality is especially high amongst the women and children, I'm told."
"How can you know of this…this travesty, and do nothing?" Walter Dale protested irately, removing his handkerchief from his suit pocket to wipe his perspiring brow.
"Because, my good Lieutenant…I only learned of it not so long ago, that's why," Keiko assured the outraged Brit. "You see…my father and I…well, we do not see eye-to-eye on many things. However, I was yet naïve enough---when I learned of this outrage---to think that perhaps my pathetic father had gotten into something with no idea of what truly was going on."
"Hmm, it's possible, I suppose," Trish admitted reluctantly, her face still showing her horror and outrage.
"It all started, I found out later," Keiko continued, after calming herself, "when my father's shipping company just started out…and fell on hard times. Low on investment capital---money, that is!---he sought a way out. The Yakusa provided him with a lucrative side business, and desperate to get out of the financial hole he'd dug, he accepted."
"Do go on, my dear," Walter prompted, after Keiko went silent again.
"A moment, I beg of you," Keiko replied, her voice shaky. She composed herself, then continued on. "Oh, as you might guess, he found out exactly what was being shipped, he probably guessed all along. But, he thought it would be a one-time arrangement, and being the haughty man he was…he decided to confront the Yakusa. To tell them that their arrangement with him was done."
"Hmm, if they're typical Mafiosi types," Walter Dale mused aloud, "I doubt they much liked that."
"They did not," Keiko told him, her pretty brown eyes haunted now. "My fool of a father tweaked their noses, thinking the great Senji Zuikawa could not be harmed. Ha! To convince him of their resolve, the Yakusa…they…they murdered my great-great grandfather…in cold blood."
"Ghastly business," Walter responded, shaking his head in regret. "My condolences for your loss, my dear."
Keiko stared off into space, like some sort of mannequin, not even acknowledging Walter's sympathy. "Horrified by the death of his honorable grandfather, my father---coward that he is!---went back to working for the Yakusa once more. After a while, he even began to find it to his liking. He was vain and venial…liking the power and prestige the Yakusa could give him." At this point, Keiko gasped, then began to hiss in guttural Japanese, nearly snarling to herself. Whatever she was saying must of truly been revolting, as Nyoko's eyes went huge, and her face went ghastly pale.
"Easy now, Miss," Trish warned, leaning over to take Keiko's hand and tap it.
Keiko blinked, then shook her head, her eyes glazed, her breath coming in heaves now. Keiko breathed in and out, in and out, trying to calm herself and regain her composure. After several minutes, she again looked in control, and her gaze returned to the two detectives. "I am ashamed," Keiko stated then, her cheeks coloring hotly. "Both of myself…and my spineless father." Keiko's face briefly writhed, fighting some internal battle with herself. "As a result, I decided to confront my worthless father! No more, I told him! This cannot continue!"
"And, what did he say, my dear?" a gentle-sounding Walter Dale asked.
"He laughed in my face!" Keiko declared, a single tear rolling down her smoothly-furred cheek. "'Do you think I care what you demand, my daughter?' he told me. I then threatened to go to the authorities. It was then that he struck me…with his fist. As I lay there on the ground with my lip split, he told me, 'If I am ever arrested on having ties to the Yakuza, my daughter…I will know who is responsible.' He then kicked me in the ribs, and added, 'If you should ever do such a foolish thing, the Yakuza will take great delight in killing the one person you care about, my defiant daughter.' I gasped then, knowing just who he meant. He laughed again, saying, 'That's right, your mother, girl.' Needless to say, I have been shamefully silent since that day."
Trish looked over to Walter, shaking her head at the tale. When she looked back to Keiko, she was very surprised to see tears streaking down Keiko's face, though not one sound did the woman make. Unimagined misery was silently reflected in the woman's almond-shaped deep brown eyes.
"Ms. Zuikawa?" Trish prompted, not expecting what had just happened. The poor wee girl, Trish thought…for the first time.
Keiko stared woodenly ahead, though she did respond. "You see, my mother…she was the only one to stand up for me against my vile father. The only one that supported me, was there for me. Who really l-l-loved me," Keiko explained, nearly breaking down at the end. "She is a remarkable woman…just caught in the wrong place, and in love with the wrong man. When my father forced my sister into an arranged marriage, my mother could not intervene. However, after that, she would often take me aside, and warn me of what my father intended for me. She counseled me to run…to fight him, the very best I could."
Trish and Walter sat there dumbfounded, unable to say a single word between them.
"So, I am giving you this information," Keiko told them then, looking them in the eyes intently. "So that you may arrest my pathetic and bestial father. However, I beg…I plead, before you do so…please, oh please save my poor mother first!" Now, Keiko's iron will collapsed, and she leaned over into Nyoko's waiting arms to sob like a broken child.
Trish could only nod then. "Aye, we'll do everythin' within our power, Ms. Zuikawa, that we will," Trish vowed, even though by saying it she felt helpless and filled with anger.
"We'll leave you alone with your client, Counselor," Walter Dale told Nyoko, who comforted the weeping Keiko, and nodded. "Come along, my good Captain."
Once out of the interrogation room, Walter stopped the obviously angry Trish. "Now, now, Trish," he counseled. "I know that was an upsetting story, dear."
"Infuriating is more like it, Walter," Trish corrected with a glower.
"Quite," the enigmatic Brit agreed. "However, before we go off on our crusade, we make sure our guest has gotten her facts straight, shall we?"
Trish blinked, then grimaced, feeling the fool. "I'm sorry, Walter," Trish apologized after cooling down a bit. "I should know better than that."
"Not at all, dear," Walter replied, giving her a smile. "It's a tale I found difficult to ignore. But, now come…we've work to do, do we not?"
"Aye, that we do," Trish agreed. "And, if this Senji Zuikawa's as dirty as his wee daughter makes him out to be…he's gonna catch it hot!"
"Quite!" Walter Dale responded, and closed the door to the interrogation room, nodding to Constable Dombrowski, who still stood vigilantly on guard outside.