“I wish you’d never gotten involved with that damn Jap,” her companion said.
“Which one?” she asked. “Matsuda or Tanaka?”
“Both. This is turning into a royal pain in the ass.”
She looked over at her companion and examined him as if she was looking at a new and particularly puzzling type of insect life. He was certainly handsome enough, with light brown curly hair, brown eyes, and the kind of tan that can only be obtained by people who are serious about sitting around in the sun until their skin baked to a crispness that is perceived as being healthy, even though it is more often a precursor of skin cancer.
“You’re the one who was scared to pick up the package,” she said. “You were afraid they might have found out that the guns we sent were junk.”
“I wasn’t afraid,” he said defensively. “I just thought it would be a better idea if we got someone else to pick up the package, just in case.”
“You weren’t willing to go and pick up the package from Matsuda, so I had to make arrangements to have it picked up. I sure as hell wasn’t going to go up there by myself. I don’t need any second-guessing from you about what I did or how I did it, especially when you tried to pull some strong-arm stuff in that boutique instead of waiting like I told you.”
Rita saw a flash of anger in her companion’s eyes, and for a minute she thought she had revealed too much of her thoughts. “I’m not trying to blame you, honey,” she said hastily. “I just want you to know it isn’t my fault, either. I’m upset that we have to wait so long to get our money, too.” Rita saw the anger subside in his eyes at the sweet reasonableness of her apology.
She reached over and patted him on the cheek. “We’re so close to getting the money that we really shouldn’t be fighting.”
“Damn it, where the hell is that Jap,” the man said.
“We don’t like being called Japs,” I said as I stepped out of the concrete seating area adjacent to the statue. “This is hardly a social occasion, but you can try saying Japanese until we’re at least done with our business.”
I was dressed in a sports shirt and blue jeans. My face was puffy with large black and red spots, and I had a gauze bandage taped to my cheek.
Rita saw the condition of my face and opened her mouth like she was about to comment, but she closed it again. Instead, she said, “Do you have the package?”
“Yes, I do. But I thought it might be better for us if we conduct our business inside this seating area where we can have some privacy.”
She nodded and walked toward the concrete circle with her companion trailing behind. When she got inside the circle, I pointed to a section of bench with a mock gesture of gallantry. “Please sit down,” I said. “There’s no reason we have to be uncomfortable.”
Rita sat next to me. She angled her legs so her knee was touching mine. Her companion sat down next to her, poised on the edge of the seat, acting fidgety and nervous.
“I suppose this is George Martin?”
“His real name is George. I don’t think we have to go into last names,” she said.
“And is your name Rita Newly?”
She smiled. “Well, the Rita part is right, and I don’t think we have to go into real last names for me, either.”
I nodded. She leaned her leg into mine. I could feel the soft warmth of her thigh and the gentle, almost caressing, pressure. Despite her beauty, I no longer found it affecting me. Instead, I could observe her little techniques and tricks with sort of a cool, clinical detachment. “I believe you owe me three hundred and fifty dollars for the damage your friend George did to the Kawashiri boutique.”
“Are they sure they don’t want the full five hundred?” Rita said.
“Three hundred and fifty is all she wants.”
“All right,” she said. She opened her purse and took a small stack of bills out. I extended my hand as she counted out the three hundred and fifty.
“All right,” I said. “Now I think we’re even. Your friend George should know that Mrs. Kawashiri still intends to press criminal charges if the chance comes up. Here’s your package.” I reached under the bench and pulled out the package.
Rita took it out of my hands immediately. “It’s been opened,” she said.
“That’s right,” I answered. “And two of the warranty claims are missing.”
“What the hell’s going on?” George started.
“Take it easy,” I said. “That’s how I got this.” I pointed to my face. “I lost two warranty claims to your friends in the Yakuza. They told me what this is all about and explained to me that they were not exactly happy that the load of guns you shipped them are defective. In fact, if they catch up with you, I think they’ll do considerably more to you than they’ve done to me. Believe me, what they did to me was more than enough.”
“That’s a very accurate observation, Mr. Tanaka.” The small Yakuza walked into the circle of concrete followed by his hulking companion. Rita’s friend, George, looked around wildly for an avenue of escape.
The concrete bunker formed a cul-de-sac that neatly trapped us with the two Yakuza standing at the only entrance. George started to stand up to climb over the surrounding concrete to get away. The small man produced his gun. “Don’t do that. It would be very messy if I have to scatter your guts over this fine public institution.” He looked at me with a twinkle in his eye. “Although, being from USC I guess I really shouldn’t care how messy I get the UCLA campus.” UCLA and USC are crosstown college rivals in Los Angeles.
“Look,” George said. “I really don’t know what this is all about. I’m just Rita’s boyfriend. I just came along because she asked me to.”
“Oh, shut up, George.” Rita’s voice carried the sting of a whip to it, and George flinched as if he had actually been struck by that whip.
“How are you, Toshi,” she said with much more sugar in her voice.
The small man smiled. “Hello, Rita. You really shouldn’t have tried to play these kinds of games with us.”
“You two know each other?” I said.
“Oh, yes,” the small man said. “Rita used to work for us in Japan. She was one of our best singers, dancers, and all-around entertainers.” He gave her a huge grin. “And when she was done with her contract, she told us that she could do business with us to help us get guns into Japan. We paid her a large sum of money, but they turned out to be junk. Where did you get so many junk guns, Rita?”
“We bought them from local police departments,” Rita said. “George has a federal gun license. It only takes a few hundred dollars to get one. He can use that license to buy surplus guns from police departments.”
“You bought the junk guns from police departments?” Toshi seemed amused.
“L.A. doesn’t sell the guns it seizes, but smaller police departments all over the state do.”
“Interesting, but they’re all junk. They’re no good to us.”
“But smuggling them in with the ball bearings did work,” Rita pointed out. “George still works for the ball bearing company. He could arrange another shipment. He could use his gun license to buy good guns this time.”
“That’s a very interesting offer,” the small Yakuza said, “but I’m afraid it’s a Japanese trait to have a very long and very persistent memory. If I was a western businessman, I suppose I might overlook what we could term some irregularities with this current shipment and we could make some arrangement for conducting business together in the future.” Another big smile. “With, of course, some preliminary quality control inspections before the shipment is sent off to Japan. But, you see, my father is not a western businessman and in some respects neither am I. I don’t think we care to do business with you in the future. In fact, we don’t want to do business with you ever.”
“The claim forms are here,” Rita said, showing him the package. “There’s really no harm done. You could take them back, and maybe you can let me go.”
“Well, that’s certainly something worth considering. Especially for you, Rita. But my father would get very unpleasant even to his own son if he found out that I was playing games, too. Besides, what about poor old Matsuda-san? I didn’t like him very much, but he was extremely useful to my father and the various family enterprises we have.”