“What is it?” asked YF.
“I take it your answer is no,” said Mizuno.
“Well if you knew that would be the likely response, why are we talking?” asked YF.
Mizuno hesitated.
“Uwada put you up to it but you didn’t think it was the best idea. Nevertheless you brought me here in a last ditch effort to make it work” YF surmised.
“It’s not that simple.”
“I’m going to go back.” YF turned to leave.
“And yet if you could have done that you already would have.”
YF planted his hand in the doorway without turning. “I don’t take you to be the trifling type. You have reason to think I will agree to this.”
“Perhaps.”
YF looked over his shoulder. “This is about the Silver District incident.”
“Yes.”
YF sighed, pulling out the pack Mizuno had given him and taking out a cigarette. He turned and handed it to Mizuno. “I’m sure you have a lighter.”
Mizuno took it and retrieved a lighter from his breast pocket, lighting it. He took a drag and exhaled a cloud of smoke. He then turned to YF, who had already put the pack away. “None for you?” asked Mizuno.
YF tapped his shirt pocket. “I am sure I will have a use for each and every one of these.”
Mizuno nodded. “Makes sense.”
“Do you also have information about this new synthetic drug?” asked YF.
“We really don’t know anything about that,” said Mizuno.
“You’re lying.”
“We will tell you what we know about the shooting as a token of friendship. About the drug, there really isn’t much we know about it. It would be best to ask someone else.”
YF held back his urge to start a war of words with Mizuno, deciding it was best to take what he could get. “How about telling me about the shooting because you need to tell me about the shooting?” he asked. “Otherwise you can sit tight until the Ward boys come with their rifles and stop asking nicely.”
“Such an outcome would be disadvantageous for us,” said Mizuno with an emotionless tone.
It was obvious that Mizuno did not seem bothered at all.
But his expression suddenly grew more serious. “If I can speak frankly, there might be a veneer of incorporating the villages into the wards. But payment for most of the former Sentinels — now patrolmen — remains…insufficient for your duties.”
“Sure,” said YF.
“Now that Sentinel personnel’s biometrics can unlock Class C and below weapons, it’s an easy way to make money isn’t it?” asked Mizuno.
YF thought about Takamatsu’s words implying the Sentinel Office knew something about the incident on Kamakura Boulevard all those years ago.
“Having the ID to unlock the weapons is one thing. Who has access to the armory?” asked YF.
“It would be beneficial to both of us if you find out,” said Mizuno, softly.
“And who says if I find out I will tell you?” asked YF.
“I can see your doubts on the oyabun’s plans,” said Mizuno. “I can also guess that you will dig into what the Sentinels know about everything, and you may not like what you find. When that happens, who can you trust anymore? Even if we have our differences you must admit that our organization can be trusted. It is enough for us to help each other navigate an ever more uncertain world.”
“I don’t see why this is necessary,” said YF. “We can work together without a bullshit ceremony of brotherhood.”
Mizuno took out a small, clear bottle of sake from his pocket. He removed the cork stopper, drank half of it, and held it out toward YF.
YF took the bottle and read the label. “Gekkan.” He made sure to read as much of the nutritional information label before slowly raising it over the side of the railing, pouring it slowly, watching the stream disappear toward the ground level below. “They say our kind first emerged from the earth, an extension of the planet itself,” said YF. He held the empty bottle to Mizuno. “Within the great seas, all men are brothers.”
Mizuno took the bottle with a blank expression.
“I’m sure we’ll be in touch,” said YF. He turned and walked back toward the main area of the Uwada family office.
***
YF bullshitted as much as he could of the report concerning both the Silver District incident and the man who had overdosed. With his terminal stolen, he had to use one at the local library, finishing right before the day Kuroda wanted it. YF then contacted the Magistrate and insisted that he submit his report at the Town Office directly, so that he could talk to Kuroda while he was there.
When he actually arrived at the Magistrate’s desk, Kuroda seemed much more stressed than usual, appearing absentminded as he read YF’s report.
“While you’re going over that, I need to get some stuff from my desk terminal,” said YF.
“Go ahead,” said Kuroda, eyes still fixated on his screen.
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“Then I suppose we won’t be seeing each other for a while.”
Kuroda averted his eyes from the report and looked up. “Don’t say that Sakai. Who knows? I may show up to your station unannounced. Seventeen, was it?”
“Yes sir,” said YF. He saw the Magistrate continue reading, at which point he exited the office and went back toward where his desk used to be prior to the Sentinel Office bombing. When he arrived at his former seat on the desk island, a junior named Sato was sitting there. Sato recognized YF and promptly logged out, leaving the area to give YF space. YF glanced discreetly at the people sitting to his left and right to make sure they were occupied before logging into the former Sentinel system — which was still operational — to search for any information he could on the Kamakura Boulevard bombing incident. Terrorist incidents, like most serious incidents, were always kicked up to the Ward Office until the prime minister’s recent restructuring announcement. YF always thought that the Sentinels would not have much information about it at all; he almost hoped to be proven correct. The search came back with results before long. YF’s eyes stopped at the box that indicated who was responsible for the initial report on that incident. “Sentinel Kondo Jiro.” There was no information on who in the Ward Office took care of it, even though there was a note that the investigation was escalated. That was abnormal.
YF tried to recall anything he could about Kondo. He remembered attending the retirement drinking party for the senior Sentinel within a year or two of entering the office, but couldn’t remember much else about him. YF tried to run more searches on the incident; any further searchers did not turn up anything. He then ran a quick residential certificate search and found that Kondo was living in Yonchome. YF noted the address and permanently logged out of his desk, returning it to Sato.
***
Before he could step off the train onto Yonchome Main Station, YF received a call from the Magistrate. The other passengers on the train gave judgmental looks as he looked between them and his receiver, waiting for the doors to open. YF quickly jogged to the side of the platform as soon as they opened and picked up the call. “Magistrate Kuroda?”
“I’ve received word from the Ward Office.The sectarian incident will be investigated by Organized Crime and the controlled substances incident by the Narcotics Control Department. You are to hand them anything else you have on the incidents and report back to Koban 17 for patrol.”
“That’s all?” asked YF.
“That is all,” said Kuroda, hanging up.
It was obvious from Kuroda’s tone that YF was to forget about the two incidents entirely, contrary to what Kuroda had suggested before. Though he was going to look for Kondo Jiro and ask about what had happened on Kamakura Boulevard, the mysterious call from Magistrate Kuroda piqued his interest, enough for him to forget about his original mission entirely. YF found himself walking automatically back into the train just before the doors closed. As the train continued to Gochome, YF thought about how Kuroda had looked when they met in the Town Office and how he sounded in the call. Something was going on at the upper levels to make the Magistrate act this way. But what? YF needed to find out more but he could not go to anybody in his chain of command. He frowned as he realized he may have to go to the people who were least likely to talk to the Magistrate or the Ward Office, the people YF wanted to speak to the least. But before that, he needed to talk to somebody else.
YF unlocked his receiver and sent a series of texts to Beef.
***
“Thanks for meeting me on short notice,” said YF.
“Sure,” said Beef.
YF scrolled to a folder the coroner had sent him regarding the overdose case. “You recognize this drug?” he asked, grasping the receiver on one end and holding it out toward Beef.
Beef took YF’s receiver and swiped through the pictures and diagrams, his expression growing darker before handing it back to YF. “I suggest you don’t look too much into this.”
“Why?”
“This is different from your typical street amphetamines or painkillers,” said Beef. “From what I understand this involves people from both the overworld and underworld you’d rather not deal with.”
YF could feel his impatience rising but tried to suppress it. He took a deep breath and raised his hands up slightly, palms out. “Listen, Beef—”
“All I know is that this drug was not synthesized on the streets. Nor was it an accident. On…” Beef hesitated. “In the places where I stay, people coming to sell their wares is a rather common occurrence. But the pills I’ve picked up on the wayside recently were a little strange. On the surface they look like the typical ones, they even have the right color. But a few weeks ago my hands happened to be a bit sweaty and the surface coloring fell off of a pill I picked up on the street. I’ve…taken these painkillers in the summer before, and nothing like that ever happened. I dropped it immediately and there seemed to be no effect on me through exposure — thankfully. I’m pretty sure whatever it is had something to do with guys getting knocked out longer than usual. I had heard someone staying halfway between our bridge and the next died from an overdose but that sort of thing is not unheard out there. It’s when two other guys died shortly after that I started to grow suspicious. Whatever this thing is, it is very potent.”
“You’re sure this couldn’t be made on the streets?”
“I highly doubt it,” said Beef. “Mainly for one reason. If you could make something this strong on the streets they would’ve called it a different name, and people would be making it in piles. There’s no shortage of people who need the strongest thing they can get their hands on to forget their troubles.”
“So it’s being marketed as the same thing as other pain meds but it isn’t?”
“It’s not being disguised as a normal pain med. It’d be one thing to fake being a legitimate pill,” said Beef. “But it’s not like my neighbors are wanting over the counter stuff. Those are not strong enough. They want something that’s already…illegal. Why not just call it what it is? Seems sloppy.”
“So what makes you think the uppers are involved then?”
“You remember the murder incident? The one with the woman down in that redevelopment area near the opium den that borders Yonchome?”
YF could feel the goosebumps on his arms. “I met the sole witness to that murder and reported it to the Ward Office.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “A while later somebody raided her apartment and either took her or dumped her body.” YF thought of Kaori and his investigation on the tampered security cameras that eventually lead to Kaori’s death. In the shock of all that had happened he never followed up on what happened to the woman. “We…don’t know what happened to her after that.”
YF could see the fear in Beef’s eyes.
“Sakai,” he said firmly in a whisper. “I saw people wearing some sort of thick biohazard suits standing in front of her apartment before they demolished it. At least one of them was walking around near where I live recently as well. You need to stay away from this.”
YF looked over his shoulder. The area behind them had been completely overrun by weeds and vines, some from the abandoned raised beds and some from the ground level. Nobody was around that early in the day, and as far as YF knew, the Sentinels did not have any surveillance in the area. “I think you’ll be fine,” said YF. “But we shouldn’t meet up again. If anything happens, alert the nearest koban and I will receive notice too.”
“I’d rather not talk to the other patrolmen for reasons that should be obvious,” said Beef.
“Isn’t there a general amnesty for misdemeanors? I heard they’re even pulling felons from prison into the army,” said YF.
“But that’s the problem Sakai!” Beef said in a whisper-shout. “Don’t you see what’s going on here? The lowers are being used as lab rats. Those people being pulled out of jail are probably undergoing some sort of psycho-reconstruction process.”
“I think it’s too early to make those conclusions,” said YF. But deep down he thought Beef might not be far from the truth. YF found himself scrolling to Mizuno’s number. He swiped it toward Beef.
“I don’t have my receiver on me,” said Beef.
YF pulled a pen out of his utility belt and his notepad, something the Town Office had given him upon starting the patrols — stuff he thought he would never need. He scribbled Mizuno’s number and pulled out the piece of paper, pressing it into Beef’s chest. “This guy’s line won’t be tapped for sure. If something happens, let him know. He’ll either help you or contact me discreetly somehow.”
Beef pocketed the paper. “I need to get back.”
“Me too,” said YF, about to turn back the way he came.
Beef reached out and grabbed YF’s upper arm. “Sakai.”
YF glanced at beef. “What?”
“Stay alive.”
YF placed his hand on Beef’s shoulder and gripped it firmly. “I’ll be all right, don’t worry about it.”