The Ends of the Earth (3 page)

‘All right.’ Everett flung himself into an armchair and lit a cigarette. ‘The Tarazumi dame didn’t deny knowing Captain Jack, even though she didn’t exactly admit it either. She claimed she couldn’t understand everything I said, although her grasp of English seemed pretty damn good to me. Eventually, after a lot of tea-sipping and brow-beetling, during which I lost all feeling in my legs thanks to kneeling on her damn mats, she said it was
possible
she could get a message to him.’

‘How did you leave matters?’

‘I – we – call round tomorrow afternoon for news.’

‘Did you mention the report we’d had that Farngold was being held in a lunatic asylum?’

‘I hinted at it.’

‘And?’

‘She said, “I am sure Farngold-san is where he wants to be.”’ Everett shrugged. ‘You can make what you like of that. One thing, though.’

‘What?’

‘I was followed part of the way to the Honey Bee. Japanese and not bad at the job, but not quite good enough. I lost him, obviously, but considering no one’s supposed to know we’re here …’

‘We’ll have to take extra precautions.’

‘How would they have got on to us so quickly, Schools?’

‘I don’t know. I hope none of the team has spoken out of turn.’

‘You know us better than that. Maybe Max has given himself away.’

‘And maybe you’d like to take that back,’ snapped Sam, suddenly angry.

Everett looked at him in surprise. ‘No need to be so prickly, Sam. We all make mistakes.’

‘It’s true,’ Morahan said, shooting a warning glance at Sam. ‘We shouldn’t jump to conclusions. I told you the people we’re up against are well resourced, Lew. Maybe this proves it. There’s nothing we can do but tread carefully. We’ll go visit Madam Tarazumi tomorrow and see what she has for us.’

‘No word from Max yet, then?’ said Everett, who was still eyeing Sam curiously.

‘No,’ said Morahan. ‘No word.’

A CABLE WAS
despatched to Yamanaka at the hotel bristol in Paris, where Morahan judged he would still be, despite the formal end of the peace conference. Such an event was bound to leave a lot of clearing up to be done in its wake, certainly enough to keep Yamanaka busy for a while yet. PLEASE CONFIRM REPORT OF DEATH OF JAMES MAXTED MARSEILLES MAY SIXTH was the simple but desperate message.

Malory went to the NYK offices to book eight berths on the
Iyo-maru
, due to sail for Seattle on Tuesday. Morahan’s reasoning was that they should at least be seen to be complying with Lemmer’s demands even if they had no intention of doing so. As it turned out, eight berths had already been reserved in Morahan’s name. It had been made as easy as possible for them to accept defeat.

But the contemplation of defeat only sharpened Sam’s anguish. Considering the number of fine and noble pilots he had seen take off and never return during the war, he was dismayed by the force of his reaction to the news of Max’s death.

‘Give me something to do, Schools,’ he pleaded. ‘I’ll go mad just sitting around here.’

Fortunately, Morahan did have a task for him. ‘I want you and Malory to take Ward, Duffy, Monteith and Djabsu to Kamakura tomorrow. It’s an easy trip on the train. Highly recommended for sight-seeing, I’m told. Shrines, temples, a giant Buddha: the full works. Make a day of it.’

‘I’m not in the mood for sight-seeing.’

‘If there’s a tail on us, Sam, as there evidently is, we should lead them astray. While you’re wandering around Kamakura, towing one or more of Tomura’s people on an invisible line, Everett and I will have less to worry about when we pay a call on Madam Tarazumi. OK?’

Sunday was as hot and sunny as Saturday had been. The sights – and the beaches – of Kamakura had lured many Tokyoites out from the city. Anyone delegated to follow Sam and his companions through the crowds had his sympathy. Only Djabsu and Monteith gave any sign of enjoying the excursion, Djabsu because he took a child-like pleasure in seaside attractions, however alien they might be, and Monteith because of the prospect of seeing Japanese women taking a dip in the ocean. Duffy and Ward kept their thoughts to themselves, though well aware they were serving as decoys. Whatever came with the job was all in a day’s work to them.

Aside from strolling on the waterfront, they visited a few Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples, which, in a different frame of mind and on another day, Sam knew he would have found fascinating. Japan, he already realized, was like nowhere else he had ever been. But too much had travelled with him to be cast aside. The splendour of the place was lost on him.

Even standing before the Great Buddha, all fifty bronze feet of him, up in the woods above the shore, failed to move Sam. Malory was clearly appalled when Djabsu scrambled up on to the Buddha’s left knee, but to Sam this and everything else that occurred passed by him beyond a gauze curtain. He saw it, but could not engage with it.

‘Cheer up, buddy, for Pete’s sake,’ Monteith said to him at one point. ‘Or if not for his, then Buddha’s.’

But Sam did not cheer up. And knowing he could not explain why he was so downcast only made it worse. The one meagre consolation he could find was to hope that Morahan would have something promising to report when they returned to Yokohama.

The Honey Bee was located on the other side of the Bluff, overlooking Mississippi Bay. Its boundary wall was high and plain, but its front door was decorated with a luridly painted beehive and the young woman who greeted Morahan and Everett was clearly no demure miss. It was doubtful if she was even Japanese.

A few customers lingered in the main salon with attentive hostesses. A man of Scandinavian appearance was playing a ballad very slowly on an out-of-tune piano. Morahan and Everett were required to wait while Madam Tarazumi prepared herself to receive them.

In his pocket Morahan had the reply from Yamanaka, delivered to him as he was leaving the Eastbourne. WILL INVESTIGATE AND REPORT SOONEST. He would do his best, Morahan knew.

He had detected no sign of a tail. Perhaps whoever had tried to follow Everett the previous day was panting round Kamakura to no purpose. The thought gave him some meagre satisfaction.

The call came after they had toyed with bowls of green tea for twenty minutes or so. They were fetched by an English-speaking assistant, who led them up to Madam Tarazumi’s sitting room.

It was tatami-matted and entirely Japanese in style, with panels thrown open to admit as much of a cooling breeze as there was. A balcony gave the proprietress of the Honey Bee an imposing view of the bay, on which she had chosen to turn her back.

She was an elegant, kimono-clad figure, of some age between forty and sixty, carefully made up and immaculately coiffured. She spoke English more than adequately, but very slowly, as if weighing every word – as she well might have been. Her expression gave nothing away.

Morahan treated her to several respectful bows as Everett introduced him, without any discernible effect on her demeanour. More tea was served. They knelt either side of a low table. The air, even when it moved, was damp with heat. Morahan felt like a giant in a doll’s house – and about as comfortable.

‘Where is James Maxted?’ was Madam Tarazumi’s opening question.

‘He is on his way,’ Morahan replied.

‘When will he arrive?’

‘When can Jack Farngold see him?’

Madam Tarazumi pursed her lips. ‘What are you to James Maxted?’

‘Friends. Advisors. Representatives.’

‘What do you know about Farngold-san?’

‘That he’s an enemy of Count Tomura Iwazu. That his sister was married to the Count. That he blames the Count for his father’s death and probably his sister’s too.’

‘Only a fool makes an enemy of Count Tomura.’

‘We can’t always choose our enemies.’

‘Have you spoken to Jack Farngold since we met yesterday, Tarazumi-san?’ asked Everett.

She did not answer directly. In fact, she said nothing at all for fully half a minute while she scrutinized each of them in turn. Then: ‘What kind of women do you like?’

If she had hoped to embarrass them she had mistaken their character. ‘The young and willing kind,’ Everett replied with a laugh.

Madam Tarazumi did not laugh. ‘You prefer Russian to Japanese? I have Russian women here. Born in the nobility. They came to Japan after the Revolution. Some men like their ways. But you cannot trust them. They are greedy for their old life. They are … ruthless.’

Morahan had the distinct impression she was talking now about one Russian woman in particular. ‘Have you ever employed a woman called Nadia Bukayeva, Tarazumi-san?’ he asked.

‘Perhaps. I do not remember their names.’

That struck Morahan as highly unlikely. ‘But you’d recognize her – if she’d worked for you – if you saw her again, here in Yokohama?’

‘I see many things that I do not speak of. I see you before me. I will never speak of that.’

‘Jack Farngold is a friend of yours?’

‘I trust Farngold-san. He trusts me.’

‘Sounds pretty much like friendship to me,’ said Everett.

Madam Tarazumi glanced expressionlessly at him, then sipped her tea and said, ‘Will James Maxted be here tomorrow?’

‘Yes,’ said Morahan, sensing the lie needed to be told if they were to have any chance of meeting Jack Farngold.

‘Near Shimbashi station, in Tokyo, there is a bicycle repair shop run by a man called Sakashita. He hangs a red bicycle outside when it is open. Above the shop is a room. He will let you go up to it if you show him this.’ She handed Morahan a slip of paper with Japanese writing on it. He bowed awkwardly in thanks. ‘Wait in the room after nightfall tomorrow. Sakashita will be open late.’

‘Jack Farngold will come to us there?’

‘If he chooses. If you are not there – you and James Maxted – you will not see Farngold-san.’

‘We’ll be there,’ said Morahan.

‘You
and
James Maxted?’

Morahan nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘Kind of risky, wasn’t that, Schools?’ said Everett as they walked away from the Honey Bee. ‘You can’t be sure Max is going to join us in time to keep our appointment with Farngold.’

‘Jack Farngold doesn’t know what Max looks like. If he doesn’t arrive between now and tomorrow night, we’ll take Sam in his place.’

‘Sam isn’t going to convince anyone he’s the son of an English lord.’

‘Sir Henry wasn’t a lord. Besides, once we’re in the same room as Jack Farngold, I back myself to talk him into levelling with us.’

Everett digested the answer for a few moments, then said, ‘You know Max and I don’t, but is this really how he’d want you to play it, Schools?’

‘Yes. I think it is.’

Everett shrugged. ‘OK. Well, you’re the boss.’

And so he was. For the time being, at least.

ANOTHER CABLE FROM
Yamanaka Eisaku was waiting for Morahan at the Eastbourne. CANNOT CONFIRM DEATH JAMES MAXTED MARSEILLES MAY SIXTH BUT UNIDENTIFIED MALE BODY FOUND IN BURNED HOUSE SAME DATE. He decided to disclose the contents only to Malory, fearing how Sam might react to the possibility that Max’s corpse had been incinerated.

‘You think that’s how Dombreux covered his tracks?’ Malory asked.

‘Could well be. Maybe we should ask Yamanaka to go down to Marseilles and see what he can find out.’

‘Surely there isn’t time for him to travel there and learn anything valuable before we’re supposed to board the
Iyo-maru
.’

‘No. There isn’t.’

‘Which leaves you meeting Jack Farngold tomorrow under false pretences.’

‘However you cut it, we’re here to help him. He should appreciate that.’

‘Will you tell him Max is dead?’

‘I’m not sure what I’ll tell him. I’m not sure what kind of man he is.’

‘And Everett and the others? Will you tell them?’

‘Not before I have to.’

‘Will you take Sam along?’

‘Oh yes. He looks the right age to be Max and if Farngold’s watching out for us, that could be crucial.’

‘So, it’ll be you, Everett and Sam?’

‘No. I’ll take Duffy as well. I’ll need someone to cover our backs.’

‘Are you worried this might be some kind of trap?’

‘Hard to see how. They already have us where they want us. But it could be a trap for Farngold. And I don’t want us to spring it. As for worried, you bet I am. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.’

Sam was glad when he heard he would be one of the party rendezvousing with Jack Farngold. It would give him what he had asked for: something to do. He was less glad when Morahan insisted he visit the hotel barber for a haircut and buy a white linen suit to make him look ‘better bred’. Performing as a stand-in for Max only sharpened his sense of loss, grateful though he was for the role allotted to him. Memories of all those narrow escapes from the jaws of death Max had pulled off in the war filled Sam’s mind. If only he could have done it again.

Morahan and Sam left a couple of hours before Everett and Duffy, with a plan in place to meet at Shimbashi station. Morahan led Sam through a maze of streets in Yokohama’s Chinatown that evidently satisfied him they were not being followed before they made for the station and caught the next train to Tokyo.

Tokyo Central was seething with Japanese workers heading home at the end of the day, a surging, sweating mass of humanity that, to Sam’s amazement, left Liverpool Street in the rush hour looking quiet by comparison. The crowds were another safeguard against being followed, of course, although even Sam, no more than average height by English standards, towered above most of the people around him, which left Morahan resembling a sunflower among daisies.

Trams were loading and disgorging passengers outside the station. Beyond lay European-style red-brick office buildings, parkland and thicker woodland than Sam would have expected to see in the centre of Tokyo. ‘That’ll be the Imperial Palace,’ said Morahan. ‘Follow me.’

They walked as far as the moat separating the palace from the city, though the palace itself remained screened by trees. The heat was far more oppressive than in Yokohama, the atmosphere damp and heavy, crows cawing lazily, trams filled to overflowing rattling by at intervals.