Suicide Squeeze

38

Ahira Kurisaka sat alone in his hotel suite. He gazed lovingly at the baseball card on the desk in front of him. It was his. He alone possessed it, this one-of-a-kind thing. One-of-a-kind. Kurisaka paused to consider what that meant. No amount of money, no level of power, nothing could re-create this thing. There was a certain magic in that.

And Hito Hyatta would be positively green with envy.

Kurisaka was sorely tempted to take the card out of the protective plastic casing. He wanted to feel the naked cardboard in his hands, sniff it to see if he could detect traces of the bubble gum. He could not wait to take the card back to Tokyo, so he could casually place it on the table during one of his lunches with Hyatta. He looked at his wristwatch, did the math. Perhaps a phone call…

He couldn’t wait. He was nearly giddy, reached for the phone, and dialed Hito Hyatta’s number. Kurisaka’s eager smile was so wide, it hurt his face.

He had to get past a secretary and another assistant before Hyatta answered the phone. “Hello? Is that you, Ahira?”

“Good to speak with you, Hito. I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

“I always make time for you, Ahira.”

“I just had to call and share news of my latest acquisition.” Kurisaka relished the anticipation, this moment, the second before telling Hyatta about the DiMaggio card. Hyatta’s brain would be spinning, wondering what amazing thing Kurisaka now had in his possession. Kurisaka let the moment stretch another second, then said, “You might recall we were both looking to add baseball cards to our collection.”

“Oh, yes. You have been successful?”

“Completely,” Kurisaka said. “I’m actually calling from Pensacola, Florida, in the United States. I have this wonderful Joe DiMaggio card. It’s autographed by the player, naturally, but it’s also been signed by-”

“Marilyn Monroe and Billy Wilder,” Hyatta said. “Yes, I’m aware of that one. A cute card. My agents made me aware that one was available sometime ago, but it just wasn’t my style. All that Hollywood and sports stuff mixed together. More of a fun novelty than a serious collectible, I thought.”

“Oh. I see.” A lead weight landed in the pit of Kurisaka’s belly. “When you said you were interested in a Florida card… I thought maybe…”

“You thought perhaps we’d be competing for the same card.” Hyatta chuckled. “Then we would have to fight it out, eh? Maybe have a good old-fashioned bidding war. Not to worry, the card I was interested in was in Orlando. Someone turned up a nearly mint-condition 1911 Honus Wagner.”

“Ah.” Kurisaka felt sick.

“The owner asked an even million in American dollars,” Hyatta said. “But I took great pleasure in grinding him down to seven hundred thousand. A bargain, really.”

“I see.” So painful. Why wouldn’t Hyatta stop talking?

“To me,” Hyatta continued, “the Wagner card is more purely a baseball collectible. And I’ve always considered myself a purist.”

“Uh-huh.” Insufferable ass.

“But for you, well, I think the DiMaggio card is more in keeping with the tone of your collection. Your collection has always been-what’s the word I’m looking for-whimsical. Yes, that’s it. A sort of fun, whimsical collection.”

There wasn’t a trace of irony in Hyatta’s voice. He honestly didn’t realize that his every word was a dagger in Kurisaka’s heart.

Hyatta said, “There’s actually a very interesting story about Honus Wagner. Apparently he-”

“I’m sorry, Hito, but I have a call on the other line. Congratulations on the Honus Wagner. Good-bye.” He hung up.

Kurisaka looked at the DiMaggio card, but every drop of his enthusiasm had evaporated. He picked it up, examined it one last time, sighed, placed it in the custom-made attaché case. He wasn’t sure, but he thought it possible he might cry.

A knock at the door.

“Come in.”

Toshi entered, offered his cousin a nod of respect. “I’m afraid we won’t be able to move up our departure. The airport is behind schedule and unable to service the craft until midmorning.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Kurisaka stood, his shoulders slumped. “I’m going to bed.”

“Is something the matter, Cousin?”

“It’s nothing. I’m tired. Just very tired.” He went into his bedroom, closed the door behind him.

Toshi wondered at his cousin’s sudden mood shift but finally shrugged and left the suite.