Chapter Three: Alone Together

Youji Kudou's eyes opened to the sight of a half-empty bottle of whisky and a glowing digital alarm clock that read 8:57. He wanted to know what had happened to the guy who'd been standing on his chest, and why Ken and his kids couldn't find somewhere better to play soccer than inside his head.

The room that waited outside his eyes was worse than the one Sakai had held him in last night. It was a dull brown, the colour of the inside of a coffin. It was also tiny, nothing more than the single bed, the lamp and the clock radio, part of what deserved to be one of the cheapest hotels in the Shinjuku area. He hadn't stayed in a hotel like this in a long time, and it brought back memories of his detective days. Memories he tried very hard to forget.

Despite the pain, despite the headache, he was almost fully awake instantly, knowing that something had woken him. Outside the door was the unmistakable sound of someone moving quietly. Youji reached under the pillow and retrieved a retractable truncheon before slipping barefoot across the room. He reached the door, but slipped left into the bathroom as there was a quiet click and the door opened. Sakai stepped through, his eyes fixed on the bed, but started violently as he caught the movement to his side. It was just Youji dropping his arm to his side and relaxing.

Youji yawned and stretched. "You're early. I was hoping you wouldn't be here till ten."

Sakai closed the door behind him. "How did you know I'd find you?"

"I didn't exactly make it hard." Youji smiled. "You're a cop, and a good one. You can find a man in a hotel room in Shinjuku easily. I just thought it'd take you longer."

For the first time, Youji saw Sakai smile. It wasn't a particularly pleasant smile. It was the smile of a man who was happy because he knew something. He understood the situation, and that meant he could control it.

"You must be cold," Sakai said. "Put some clothes on and we'll talk."

Youji looked down as if he was surprised that he was just wearing his underpants. At least Sakai hadn't seen the nametag in them. He went to the small wardrobe and found some trousers and a shirt, pulling them on as Sakai sat down on the bed.

"Youji Kudou," he began, "twenty-four years old. You did one year of a law degree and are a licensed private investigator as of two years ago. You rent a small office in Shibuya and live in a cheap apartment with your girlfriend. She works as a secretary at a law firm which hires you from time to time. You've been questioned by the police several times but have never been formally charged with anything."

"It makes it sound boring when you say it like that," Youji remarked.

"Did you know there was another private detective in Tokyo called Youji Kudou?"

"I said it was a common name," Youji replied, without even blinking.

Sakai shrugged. "He didn't look like a relative. He had short dark hair and a beard."

Youji nodded with genuine interest. He had occasionally wondered whose photo Kritiker had used to replace his own in the police files.

"I'll have to look him up some time."

"You can't," Sakai told him. "He was shot and killed two years ago."

Despite himself, Youji shivered. He should have known better than to try to burn incense at his own grave. Or hers.

He finished buttoning his shirt, looked up, and smiled. "You must be hungry after that biography. Let me buy you breakfast."

***

They ate in a small cafe inside the maze of Shinjuku Station where the food was almost always eaten in a hurry so it didn't have to be that good. Youji had been cautious and just ordered soup and rice. Sakai had ordered an omelette as well, but from what Youji could tell, he seemed to be enjoying it.

They ate in silence. After the meal, Youji sat back and lit a cigarette. He looked at his watch and then at Sakai.

"In an hour, I have to meet my Kritiker contact."

Sakai flinched as if Youji had hit him. "Why?"

"To make my report," Youji answered. "I wanted to meet her in person just in case you didn't see things my way last night. I had to take precautions. But if I report in the right way, I'll be able to buy us till Monday, but no longer."

"That doesn't give me much time," Sakai said.

Youji shook his head. "It doesn't give us much time. As soon as I lie to her, we're in this together till the end. Or you can try to go it alone."

"You're clever, Kudou," Sakai muttered. "You could have warned me."

"But that wouldn't have been clever of me, would it?" Youji said.

Sakai relaxed, admitting defeat. He took the last of Youji's cigarettes from the offered packet but lit it himself. They paid and left the cafe for the bustle of the station. By now it was very busy. Rush hour was over but there were still more than enough people to lose themselves in. They turned through the crowd at random, taking any junction with enough people coming out of it. Then they stopped for a minute to stub out their cigarettes watch the crowd pass. There were no familiar faces, none of the tiny details of individuality stood out more than once.

When they finally left the station, Youji told Sakai, "I want you to watch me meet my contact."

"Why?"

"Call it an act of good faith. You'll be mostly out of sight, of course. She won't be able to see you and I couldn't point you out even if I wanted to."

Sakai thought about it, but Youji already knew the answer: "Okay. But this doesn't mean I trust you."

"You shouldn't," Youji said. "Not yet, anyway."

Sakai followed Youji to a half-empty coffee bar. Youji waited outside until he had bought a coffee and sat down next to the fire exit, then crossed the road to a newsstand. He bought another packet of Camels and read the health warning on the front, just to see which one it was this time. One of the non-specific ones. He lit a cigarette and glanced through the selection of magazines in front of him, but nothing caught his interest. He bought a copy of the Asahi and looked up the street over the cultural section.

He had barely reached the end of the first paragraph before he saw her, and then the article might as well have been about the impact of Anglo-Japanese relations on nineteenth century whaling for all the interest it held to him. She had straight black hair down to her shoulders with a ruler-straight fringe framing her face. Her smart clothes clung tightly to her, and she wore nothing over them despite the cold. Her skirt was as short as ever, her long legs kept warm by shear tights. Her hips swayed aggressively. It could have been a different woman from the one Youji knew, but her ankles were as distinctive as ever.

Youji lent back against the newsstand and watched her walk towards him. He enjoyed it. She could take all the time she wanted to reach him.

Despite the body language, Birman's eyes were still cool. "Well, Youji?"

"It's working, so far," Youji said. "He's suspicious, but if he weren't, I would be."

"Do you have any leads?" Birman asked.

Youji shook his head. "Nothing concrete yet. I think whoever bought him is very high up. I know he's got the data he stole from the other agent hidden somewhere, probably in the station, but I'm not going to press him."

"What's your plan?"

"Patience," Youji said. "A woman as beautiful as you shouldn't worry. He's starting to trust my greed. He's in the coffee shop across the road waiting for me to finish lying to you. He won't trust me without a reason, so I'm going to give him one. But I'll need help from one of the others to do it."

"What are you going to do?"

Youji gave her his best smile. "I'm going to save his life."