The rest of the afternoon they spent reconnoitering the shipyard. Though naturally inclined toward a water-borne penetration, Tanner didn’t want to discard the land approach. If security were lax enough, it might simply be a matter of scaling a fence. It was not to be, however.
Tange Noboru knew his business. The shipyard was run with militaristic efficiency, with armed patrols (both on foot and in four-by-four trucks) guard dogs, floodlights, and electric fencing. Though these measures were not insurmountable, they made the seaward approach all the more inviting.
Tanner disembarked the Tokkaido at Sannomiya Station and started walking. The night was balmy with a slight breeze. He turned right on Tor Road, walked north two blocks, then turned left toward the garden. Down the block he glimpsed Cahil standing in front of a shop window, studying bonsai trees.
The Sorakuen was an amalgamation of English and Oriental styles with labyrinth hedgerows, tall cedars, and colored accent lights lining the walkways. He walked through the entrance and onto a small footbridge spanning a brook. He reached the center fountain courtyard and sat down on the southernmost bench.
He glanced at his watch: twenty minutes to go. Hidden somewhere nearby, Cahil would be watching. One less thing to worry about. Now he waited.
Forty-five minutes later, he was about to leave when a lone woman appeared on the path. She stopped at the fountain. Heart pounding, Tanner watched. Come on, come on… She sat down on the fountain’s rim, took off her left shoe, shook out a pebble, then put it back on.
I’ll be damned.
Tanner removed his coat and laid it across his left knee.
She walked over to him. “Gomen nasai, e-ki wa do ko desu ka?” Excuse me, where is the train station?
Now came the test. Tanner replied, “Massugu mae yu-binkyoku. Taka sugimasu.” Straight ahead in front of the post office. It’s very expensive, though. Tanner watched her carefully; she was agitated but standing her ground.
“Yoyaku shimashita,” she said. I have a reservation.
“Do you understand English?”
“Yes.”
“Please sit down.”
“Who are you?” she whispered.
“Sit down.”
“No. I know Umako is dead. Tell me—”
Tanner could see little of her face, but she looked young. “If I meant you harm, we wouldn’t be talking. Sit down.”
She hesitated, then sat down. “Who are you?”
“A friend of Ohira’s.”
“How can I believe you?”
“How did I know about this meeting?”
“Perhaps you tortured him.”
“You know that’s not true. I was with him when it happened. He gave me a key to a locker—”
“You’re lying! He told me he used some kind of code.”
“He did… we did. We need to talk. Is there a place we can—”
Abruptly, she stood up. “I don’t know you. You could be the police.”
“I know you’re scared,” Tanner said. “I don’t blame you. I can help you. It’s your choice, though. If you decide to go, I won’t stop you.”
She paused, thinking. “How well do you know Kobe?”
“Enough to get around.”
“I know a place. I will give you directions.”
Her directions took Tanner and Cahil to a small shokudo, or neighborhood restaurant, in an old residential neighborhood. It was after midnight, and the streets were deserted. The cobblestones glistened under the streetlights.
Even before they knocked on the paper-paned door, it opened. A teenage boy waved them inside, then led them through the kitchen and into the alley, where they climbed a wooden stairway. At the top was a door. The boy knocked, and it opened, revealing the woman. She let them inside, whispered something to the boy, then shut the door.
“He has nothing to do with this,” she said. “I don’t want him involved.”
“He won’t be,” Tanner said.
“I’ve made tea.”
Tanner smiled; even now, Japanese politeness asserted itself.
She poured and they sat on tatami mats around a low table.
“Now tell me what happened to Umako.”
Tanner did so, leaving nothing out. As he finished, the woman began sobbing.
Tanner and Cahil exchanged glances. She and Ohira had been lovers, he suddenly realized. What in God’s name had Ohira been thinking? Had the affair been genuine or simply his way of turning her? If so, what did she know that was important enough to risk such an entanglement?
“What’s your name?” he asked softly.
She brushed the tears away. “Sumiko Fujita.”
“I’m very sorry, Sumiko. How long had you and Umako been…”
“Lovers. You can say the word. I am not ashamed. Almost a year.”
“What kind of help were you giving him?”
“No. Not until I know who and what you are.”
Tanner was torn. He looked to Bear and got a shrug: Your call, bud. Tanner decided to trust his instincts. He told Sumiko their names. “As far as what we are… How much do you know about Umako’s work?”
“He was spying on Takagi.”
“Do you know why?”
“Something about illegal arms dealing.”
“He told you that?”
“Yes.”
“Did he tell you who he was working for?”
“I’m not stupid, Mr. Tanner. As soon as I saw you, I knew.”
“How do you feel about that?” asked Cahil.
“I knew Umako. He was a good man. I also know Hiromasa Takagi. He is not a good man. I am a lawyer in Takagi’s Office of Counsel. I have seen enough. You still haven’t told me why you are here,” Sumiko said. “But, to be honest, I’m not sure I care. Will you find who killed Umako?”
“If we can,” Tanner replied.
“If you want my help, you must promise to get them.”
Cahil said, “That might be easier said than done.”
“But not impossible.”
“No, not impossible.”
“Umako died in your arms, Mr. Tanner. He was working for you.”
Tanner nodded.
“Then you must make this right. You must do the honorable thing.”
Tanner had already thought the same thing. Ohira had put himself in harm’s way doing what he thought was right. For him, integrity had transcended all else, and Briggs respected that. “We’ll find the man,” he said.
“Good. Now tell me what you want to know.”
For the next two hours, they questioned her. She held nothing back. She had a near-photographic memory and a razor-sharp mind. “Lately, Umako had been especially interested in the Tokushima Shipyard,” she said at last.
“Why?” asked Tanner.
“I don’t know. When we first started, he was concentrating on the electronics division: patent information, purchasing contracts, end-user certificates.”
This made sense. Patent information and purchase agreements were logical places to start, and end-user certificates are designed to identify the buyers of restricted technology and weapons systems, who, in theory must be recognized governments. In reality, however, they were easy to circumvent.
“When did he start asking about Takagi Maritime?” asked Cahil.
“Two months ago. He wanted details on shipbuilding, insurance subsidiaries, underwriting… and whether Takagi handled contract salvage jobs.”
Suddenly Tanner remembered Ohira’s chart and the hunch he needed to pursue. “Do they?” he asked.
“Salvage work? Not that I know of. They do build on contract, but I’m not sure what exactly. I had just started getting some of the things Umako wanted when he… when they killed him”