The Toyotomi Blades

13

I took a cab back to the hotel. I wasn’t willing to test my fleetness of foot against the Yakuza again. I had lunch and dinner brought up to my room and spent most of the day watching Japanese television. I watched a baseball game that ended in a 3–3 tie, and that puzzled me. In the U.S. the teams would play until one or the other got ahead, but in Japan a tie seemed perfectly acceptable. About an hour after dinner there was a knock on my door.

“Who is it?”

“Hotel masseuse.” A female voice, with impeccable English. I was immediately wary.

“I didn’t order a massage,” I said.

“It’s the chambermaid.”

I was surprised by the change in identification.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“Candygram.”

I knew that voice, but I couldn’t believe it was true. I opened the door to a grinning Mariko. “What are you doing here?” I spluttered.

“Aren’t you glad to see me?” she said. “Are you going to invite a girl in, or what? I’m dying for a shower.”

I rushed out and hugged her, giving her a big wet kiss. Instead of just inviting her in, I practically carried her into the room.

“Now that’s a proper greeting!” she said.

“But I still can’t figure out what you’re doing here.”

“Well, I missed you.”

“But, but…”

“Mary and I had dinner right after you left, and I was already feeling kind of blue. She asked me why I didn’t go with you. I didn’t have a good answer except money, so she offered to lend me the money. She said I should go to Japan. When I asked her when, she said tomorrow. I thought she was kidding but she was entirely serious. Apparently she does this all the time, and she was able to finagle tickets at a good price. It seemed like a tremendous adventure, my passport was current, and my credit card almost paid off, so I jumped on a plane and here I am.”

“You borrowed the money from Mary?”

“Of course not.”

“But I’m leaving in four days.”

She looked at me archly. “Boy, just because I fly across the Pacific Ocean to surprise you, you mustn’t think I’m going to tag along like a puppy dog. When you leave I’m going to hole up in one of those cheap businessmen’s hotels. I intend to stay ten days or two weeks or whenever I max out my credit card, whichever comes first. You’re going back to L.A. and I’m going to be loose in Japan once you leave. I thought it was a great chance to be here with you for some time and to still see something of the country. Do you mind having me as a roommate for a few days? If you do, I can check into a hotel now.”

“Mind? I’d love it! But how did you get the money for the ticket?” As a struggling actress, Mariko did not have a lot of cash lying around.

She sighed. “To tell you the truth I got the money by doing something I swore I’d never do again.”

“You don’t mean …”

“Yes.”

“But you said it was too humiliating to do again.”

“I know. But I didn’t see any other way to get some money quickly.” She sighed. “I asked my parents for a loan. That means at least a couple of years of flying back to Columbus to see them for major holidays, and it might even mean having them come to California for a visit. If I knew a loan shark that would lend me the money I’d have gone to him. I’d rather have broken kneecaps than my mother lecturing me about giving up acting, getting married again, and having nice, fat, little Japanese grandchildren for her.”

“I know what a sacrifice it is, but I’m glad you did it. I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Neither can I.”

“I called Mrs. Kawashiri this morning and she acted cagey when I asked for you. I guess you were already in the air and she didn’t want to spoil the surprise.”

“She was super about letting me take time off on short notice.”

“You better buy her a nice gift.”

“You’re pretty free with my money. Or rather my parent’s money.”

I shook my finger at her in mock admonishment. “I know your parents raised you right. You may have been just about the only Japanese girl in Columbus, Ohio, but you still know what to do when someone has been as nice to you as Mrs. Kawashiri.”

She raised her eyebrow. “Gee, I didn’t think that lecturing me would be what you’d do once you got over your surprise.”

Well, I know a cue when I hear one. I took Mariko in my arms and tried to do my best to satisfy her expectations. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but so does abstinence. I know I’m over forty and I also know we were apart for only a few days, but there’s a great secret they don’t write about in detective novels: Successfully eluding crooks is an exhilarating shot to the libido. I had eluded my two friends two nights in a row and frankly I felt pretty frisky.

When Mariko and I were back to a state where we could communicate in full sentences, I said, “I almost forgot. I’m leaving for Kyoto tomorrow morning.”

“What? Why?”

“For my health.”

Mariko looked puzzled.

“I called you this morning to tell you about another encounter I’ve had with the same two guys who chased me. The police say they’re Yakuza. I’ve decided it isn’t safe to be in Tokyo, so the television show is paying to get me out of town. While I’m in Kyoto, I’m also going to talk to a sword collector about that sword I bought in the garage sale.”

“So you’re actually leaving tomorrow morning?”

“That’s right.”

“You won’t get away from me that easily. I’m going to Kyoto, too.”

“Really?”

“As long as my credit card holds out I might as well see Kyoto as well as Tokyo. If I can go to Japan on a moment’s notice, going to another city is a snap.”

The phone rang. Mariko kissed me on the cheek and said, “Go ahead and answer it. It might be important. I want to jump into the shower anyway. Oh, and maybe you can call down and have my bags sent up to the room. I checked them with the bell captain.”

I picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Ken-san?”

“Yes.”

“It’s Junko. I’ve got your tickets and information about accommodations in Kyoto for you. I’ve also got some new information about the swords. I’m in the lobby. Can I come up?”

I glanced at the bathroom door and said hastily, “I’ll come down and meet you. There’s a bar in the lobby. I’ll see you there.”

I scrambled into some clothes and stuck my head into the bathroom where Mariko was just stepping out of the shower, a towel wrapped around her head. “There’s someone from the television show here. I’m going to meet her in the lobby. Want to come?”

“Sure. Just give me a minute to get on my clothes and fix my hair.”

Mariko was true to her word, and it only was a few minutes before we were going down in the elevator. In the lobby bar of the Imperial, Junko was sitting at a table sipping a drink. She saw us and she got a quizzical look on her face.

“This is my girlfriend, Mariko Kosaka,” I told Junko as we sat down. “She flew in this evening from Los Angeles to surprise me. If it’s possible, she’d like to get tickets to go to Kyoto with me tomorrow.”

Junko looked a bit flustered, but she assured me that there would be no problem getting an extra train ticket in the morning.

“You said you had more information about the swords,” I reminded her.

“Oh yes.” She took some papers out of her purse and handed them to me. They were two faxes. One looked like a page from an auction catalog. It showed a Japanese samurai sword, with the markings on the blade just barely visible. The other page looked like a museum brochure of some kind, but the writing was in Dutch or German. There was a small picture of a samurai sword on this page, along with a drawing of an old sailing ship of some sort. The sword was the bare blade, without the handle.

“The auction catalog is the New York blade. It’s not a very good picture, but you can just make out the design on the blade. The other fax is from the Dutch Shipping Museum in Rotterdam. The sword picture on that one is pretty poor quality, but it was the best they were able to come up with. I thought these might help you,” Junko said.

I looked at the two faxes closely, but the images were too muddled to really tell me anything. Still, it was better than nothing and I thanked Junko profusely for her efforts. The three of us sat in the bar for about half an hour discussing the arrangements in Kyoto. Mariko, who is a recovering alcoholic, sipped an orange juice and I did the same. I didn’t like meeting in the bar because it was unfair to Mariko, but I didn’t want Junko up in my room with the bed mussed up the way it was. Despite being a child of the swinging sixties, I’m modest.

When we were done with our discussion, Junko said goodbye and Mariko and I went to the elevator to return to my room. When the doors of the elevator closed, Mariko said, “It’s just as well that I came to Japan.”

“Why?”

“I think Junko might be a little interested in you.”