The chief commissioner interrupts his subordinate: “Inspector Takeda, have you been drinking? Are you suffering from one or other venereal disease that has affected your mind?”
Takeda is taken aback by the abruptness of the interruption, but is intent on saving face come what may. “The poison used during the raid on the Teikoku Bank, respected commissioner, was acetone cyanohydrin, a gas we used a great deal during the war. And the ceo of the Dai-Ichi-Kangyo Bank in Tokio who died during the raid was Tomio Shiga, the son of Taro Shiga. This can’t be mere coincidence.”
“What are you trying to say, inspector?”
“When I heard that Tomio Shiga was among the victims his name stuck in my mind. A great many contemporary American historians are convinced that his father Taro Shiga was the true target of the strange “bank raid” because he knew where the clandestine operation to secure Japan’s war treasures after the capitulation had located its spoils. The operation was called Kin no yuri, the Golden Lily, and was among the activities of Unit 731. Luck would have it, chief commissioner, that I had the opportunity to investigate Unit 731 earlier in my career.”
“Unit 731 is a fairytale for children who like to read mangas,” the chief commissioner interrupts in the same curt tone.
“I have reason to believe otherwise.” Takeda bites his lip. In his determination to get Takamatsu on his side he has to be careful not to go too far and expose his past. That would be a disaster. He clears his throat and continues. “I think Unit 731 actually existed and that operation Golden Lily is not a fairytale. I’m also inclined to believe that a portion of Japan’s war treasures has yet to be found and that someone is determined to get his hands on them. I wouldn’t be surprised if Tomio Shiga knew more than he was willing to reveal and that he died for his silence just like his father decades earlier.”
The commissioner shakes his head as if he’s talking to a retarded child: “And you, inspector Takeda, want me to take this infantile fantasy of yours to the head of the National Guard and make myself immortally ridiculous? Have you perhaps become obsessed by such fables and by the twisted convolutions of your own mind?”
The inspector folds his hands behind his back, his right fist in his left. He’s relieved that he said nothing to the commissioner about the secret Unit 731 he had heard about from a man he had believed for a short time to be his father. Since that encounter, which took place twenty-two years earlier, Takeda had continued to search for information on Unit 731 and the book he had recently bought by the American scholar Hal Gold had been very informative.
“Tomio Shiga, commissioner, may have been killed because he knew something about operation Golden Lily, something he refused to divulge, or because he had revealed too much. If you ask me the bank raid was just an excuse to blur Shiga’s death. I also think my theory is worth investigating.” As Takeda is formulating his conclusion one more time he can see in the expression on the chief commissioner’s face that he’s gone too far. Imaginative lines of investigation don’t tend to be appreciated in the Japanese police force. But he still finds the harshness of chief commissioner Takamatsu’s reaction difficult to understand. He only knows that he can’t turn back, nor does he want to. The same obstinacy that haunted Takeda’s younger years tightens around his chest like a band of steel.
The chief commissioner joins his hands. ‘Fine, inspector, you refuse to let go of this insanity? Well, your foolishness demands serious measures. As of now you are off the case.”
Takeda stands at Takamatsu’s desk, his back straight. What had he expected? He can’t remember. Anything but this.
“You should be grateful I don’t have you demoted,” the chief commissioner concludes with an icy glance. Takeda opens his mouth, but is able to control himself. Takamatsu puts on his glasses, lifts a sheet of paper from his desk and throws it at Takeda. “You’re on a new case. It should give you the chance to relax those overstressed brain cells. We were contacted this morning by the people at Funairi Hospital. Apparently someone tried to kill a foreigner, a Belgian. An unusual weapon, if I’m not mistaken. With your language skills and your penchant for exotic theories, it should be right up your street.”
The paper lands on the floor. Takeda has to bend down to pick it up. He straightens himself, red blotches on his cheeks.
“At your command, sir.”
Takeda is almost at the door when he hears Takamatsu’s voice behind him. “You’re familiar with the National Guard, inspector? They don’t like the local police disturbing their investigations with insane conspiracy theories involving the imperial family. You would do better to keep your mouth shut about those fantasies of yours, Takeda. You can curse me now, but one day you’ll be grateful.”
“Is that a threat, chief commissioner?”
“I’m protecting you, inspector, try to get that into your head.”
Takeda marches along the corridor, a burning sensation in his chest, an overpowering rage as old as he can remember. It’s un-Japanese, but it’s stronger than himself. He turns on his heels, retraces his steps, opens the door to Takamatsu’s office and hears himself say stubbornly and squarely: “With all due respect, chief commissioner, I still think this is an important line of inquiry and that it needs investigation.”
35
Only a fool would say this new direction was accidental. Reizo Shiga knows that he’s supposed to be surprised, but all he feels is intense satisfaction. He arrived in the temple tired and gloomy after his nocturnal literary experiment with the Belgian – which failed because of that coward Yori – but now he senses a surge of adrenaline clearing his mind. What he’s about to hear could work to his advantage, as long as he’s careful.
Together with the other disciples, Reizo listens with a straight face to the undersecretary who had followed the usual prayer to the Blessed One with some staggering news. Shiga might seem serene on the outside, but inside the chaos is mounting. He’s always known the truth: his alpha waves are so powerful he’s capable of working miracles. The giant of a woman who calls herself Mitsuko did not find her way to the sad remains of his Suicide Club by accident. Mitsuko must have been drawn to the club by his alpha waves. The undersecretary of the Brotherhood has just instructed each disciple to be on his lookout for a woman. Mitsuko answered perfectly to the undersecretary’s description. He underlined the vital importance of his charge: “The command comes from the Blessed One in person. The woman is probably in Hiroshima. Whoever finds her must report back immediately and can expect to be invited to an audience with the Blessed One.” It was as if a powerful yet invisible gust of wind had raged through the sanctuary’s prayer room. One novice was stupid enough to ask a question: “Is she impure and a danger to the Brotherhood?”
The undersecretary pouted, stormed through the rows of disciples and bowed stiffly from the hips in front of the novice who had posed the question: “Tell me, little brother. In the short time you have been taken up with kindness in our midst, have you amassed so much alpha-potential that you can see into the mind of the Blessed One? Or are you simply arrogant, intent on providing the Most High’s every command with your own commentary?” The boy, a bespectacled academic type, blushed and bowed his head as deeply as he could. The undersecretary looked around the room. “If you work hard at self-improvement a day will come when you will acquire telepathic insight into the plans of the Blessed One. Until that day, you must follow one single motto: obedience, obedience, obedience! I want you to scour the streets of Hiroshima with courage and determination. Search in groups of two; explore every corner of the city. If a group spots this woman, one brother should immediately report back while the other continues to follow her. Think about it: whoever finds her will be granted an audience with the Blessed One himself. A privilege novices like you can only dream of. Perhaps the Blessed one will reveal his astral powers, walk through a wall, levitate? Try to imagine what that might mean for your alpha-potential!”