Cure (2010)

there he already had the hot-water tap going full blast, filling the room with warm, billowing steam.

“So what else has you nervous?” Jack asked, raising his voice over the sound of the shower as he reached in to adjust the temperature before climbing in. “And don’t talk to me about worries concerning your competence, because I don’t want to hear it.” He’d heard her talk about her fears of competence back when she’d first started at OCME and was intuitive enough to guess it was bothering her again.

“Then I’m not going to say anything,” Laurie shouted back.

Jack stuck his face out from the stream of water, wiped his eyes, and cracked open the shower door: “So it is fear of your abilities! Well, I’m not going to try to change your mind, because I know nothing I’d say would have any effect whatsoever, so you go on and worry. But you know something, the fact that you do worry is probably what makes you such a good medical examiner. You’re a better forensic pathologist, in my mind, than anyone else in the whole place, because you’re always willing to question and learn.”

“I’m flattered to hear you say that, even though I don’t believe it. I was okay before this maternity leave, but it’s been almost two years since I’ve done an autopsy or looked at a microscopic slide.”

“That might be, but over the last month you’ve been burning the midnight oil reading several standard forensic-path books. You’re probably up to speed more than any of the rest of us who haven’t looked at a textbook for years. You could probably even pass your board exams again today, which none of the rest of us could do.”

“Thank you for your support,” Laurie said. “But reading and actually doing are two vastly different things. I’m truly worried I’m going to mess up big-time in some form or fashion, maybe even on my first case.”

“Could never happen!” Jack stated with surety. “Not to you with your experience. But look, let’s make a point of doing our cases on adjoining tables and sorta maintain an ongoing conversation about what we are doing. Then, after the autopsies, we go over them together just to make sure we’ve both hit all the appropriate buttons. What do you think of that idea?”

“I like it,” Laurie admitted. “I like it a lot.” The idea didn’t absolve her of all her anxieties, but it did lessen them. Most important, by relieving some of her nervousness, she knew she’d be able to turn her attention to what she had to do to get ready to leave for OCME. Leticia was due to arrive in less than an hour, and Laurie had a lot to do before she got there.

2

MARCH 25, 2010

THURSDAY, 6:57 p.m.

KOBE, JAPAN

Hisayuki Ishii’s driver, Akira, pulled into the roundabout facing the Hotel Okura Kobe and halted in front of the main entrance. Stopped ahead of them was the first car of the three-car motorcade that had driven the oyabun of the Aizukotetsu-kai Yakuza organization and his saiko komon, Tadamasa Tsuji, the forty-six miles from Kyoto to Kobe. The bodyguards climbed out of the first vehicle, all with their hands stuck inside their jackets, clutching the butts of concealed handguns so that they could be drawn out in an emergency. No one was comfortable visiting Kobe, the traditional home of the rival Yamaguchi-gumi Yakuza family, especially for an impromptu meeting with the organization’s oyabun. If the Yamaguchi-gumi were inclined, there was too much opportunity to plan an ambush.

Akira leaped out and rounded Hisayuki’s armored LS 600h L sedan and waved away the hotel doorman. Hisayuki preferred to have his own driver open his door to avoid any unwanted surprises. Behind came the third car with its additional host of bodyguards.

The move from vehicle to inside the hotel happened in seconds. Inside, Hisayuki was formally greeted by the general manager and guided to a private elevator, whisking him, his saiko-komon, and two of his most trusted lieutenants up to the penthouse floor, where they were escorted into a private dining room. There Hisayuki was greeted by his Yamaguchi-gumi equivalent, Oyabun Hiroshi Fukazawa. He too was accompanied by his saiko-komon, a slight bespectacled man by the name of Tokutaro Kudo, who, by his diminutive size, made his boss appear to be a giant.

Actually, Hiroshi was big. Although not a giant, he was almost a head taller than Hisayuki, with a broad, serious face. He was dressed as nattily as his guest, in elegant European business attire.

Besides the two principles and their respectful saiko-komons and two personal bodyguards, the other people in the room included a hotel manager, a waiter, and a chef. The chef, outfitted in spotless white with a tall, highly starched toque, was standing patiently in the middle of a U-shaped dining table with a built-in grill. The table was at the far end of the narrow room near the window. Out the window stretched a dramatic sweeping view of Osaka Bay with the Port of Kobe in the foreground.

After the typical, ritualized greeting and exchange of business cards, Hiroshi gestured for his two guests to take seats in the seating area near the room’s entrance, just beyond the private lavatory. As Hisayuki stepped over to one of the chairs, he could not help but take note that Hiroshi did not make a point of bowing slightly lower than he, which was traditional, since Hisayuki was clearly the more senior in age. Hisayuki wondered if the slight was deliberate or accidental, and if deliberate, if it was a sign of disrespect or merely a subtle statement that Hiroshi did not consider himself bound by the same old Yakuza cultural rules.

“This is a most pleasant surprise, Ishii-san,” Hiroshi said once the four men were seated and had ordered their personal favorite brand of Scotch whiskey. The four bodyguards faded to opposite sides of the room, glaring at one another.

“Thank you for agreeing to see us under such short notice, Fukazawa-san,” Hisayuki said with yet another slight bow.

“It is good to see you looking so well. It has been too long since we were together, my friend.”

“It was more than a year. We should not be so lax. It is, after all, less than fifty miles that separates us.”

The pleasantries continued until the waiter brought out their respective scotches. When the waiter withdrew, the tone changed. It wasn’t marked, but it was real. “What is it that we can do for the oyabun of the Aizukotetsu-kai?” Hiroshi asked with a more clipped style and impatient tone than he had used earlier.

Hisayuki cleared his throat and hesitated as if he’d waited until that very moment to decide what it was he wanted to say. “Several days ago—three, to be exact—I was called to Tokyo to meet with Daijin Kenichi Fujiwara- san.”

“The vice minister Fujiwara?” Hiroshi questioned with muted surprise. He shot a quick glance toward his saiko-komon and got a slight shrug of the man’s shoulders in return, suggesting that he was equally surprised. A government meeting at the ministerial level with a Yakuza oyabun was something akin to a blue moon.

“Exactly! The vice minister of Economy, Trade, and Industry,” Hisayuki said. He leaned forward and made direct eye contact with his host. He knew he had the man’s full attention. “The vice minister told me a number of surprising and disturbing things that we need to talk about. First, he told me that the Yamaguchi-gumi had been behind the break-in of a laboratory at Kyoto University, where there had been a death. I’m sure you have heard about it. At the same incident, some important laboratory books had been stolen, an issue you might not have heard about, since it was not reported to the media. The government is concerned about these laboratory books, as they have put in jeopardy the legitimacy of Kyoto University’s patents on iPS technology. ”

Hiroshi sat back and took a sip of his scotch while returning Hisayuki’s stare. It was obvious he was taken aback by the candor of Hisayuki’s remarks even more than the content, although the content surprised him, too. The media had not named the Yamaguchi-gumi specifically, just that the break-in had been a Yakuza event.

“My concern is whether you personally were aware of this break-in. Perhaps it was the doings of one of the Yamaguchi splinter groups? We all know that the Yamaguchi is expanding quickly, which might mean that there is not the same internal cohesion as with the rest of us.” Hisayuki wanted to provide an out for his rival, but the effort