The Ends of the Earth (28 page)

‘Kyoto?’

‘That is what we have been told he said. And he did not need to say anything. So, is it a message?’

‘Maybe. But what it means … I don’t know.’

‘The collapse of Lemmer’s plans makes him no longer a useful ally for Count Tomura. I suspect Tomura will desire a period of … discretion … in which to recover political credit. This will finally make certain all charges against Morahan, Djabsu and Ward are dropped. Also the charges against Miss Hollander and Mr Twentyman. Their deportation would be the obvious solution to Tomura’s problem. What you have discovered is not something that can be used to destroy him, I regret. It is a personal matter between you and him.’

‘Yes. It’s certainly that.’

‘But if you try to settle it personally, Maxted-san, I fear I will have your death to investigate as well as all the others.’

‘I don’t know how I’ll move against him, Commissioner, although I promise you I won’t be as bull-headed as I was last night. But I can’t walk away. And I’m not going to pretend I’m willing to.’

‘No. You are frank, Maxted-san. You are clear. I understand. I even approve. But still …’ Fujisaki stubbed out his second cigarette and turned to the guard. ‘
Itte kudasai.
’ The guard nodded and left the room.

‘I thought he couldn’t speak English,’ said Max.

‘He cannot. But there is a name it may be best he does not hear. A man came here a few hours ago. French, I think. He said he wanted to speak to you.’

‘How did he know I was here?’

‘I asked. He did not explain. He did not explain much at all. I refused to allow him to see you. He seemed not to be surprised. He asked when you would be released. I did not deny that it would be today. He seemed not to be surprised by that either. He said he would call at your hotel later.’

‘He knows where I’m staying?’

‘Evidently he does.’

‘What name did he give?’

‘He insisted I should tell you his name, actually, which is interesting, I think. Laskaris. Viktor Laskaris.’

WELL DONE. MUCH REGRET SUBJECT DROWNED. RECOMMEND YOU LEAVE ASAP. BROWN

MAX STOOD IN
the foyer of the Tokyo station hotel, staring at the telegram that had been waiting for him. He could only imagine Eugen Hanckel had drowned during an escape attempt while being transported across Lake Geneva. It was a terrible turn of events. Max knew how badly Appleby must have taken it. He had certainly never intended the boy to come to any harm.

But to harm the boy had come. Eugen was dead. Anna Schmidt had given away the names of Lemmer’s spies for nothing. The news of the drowning must have reached her. That was why she had killed herself. Of the two people she loved most in the world, she had lost one and betrayed the other.

And what of that other? What would Lemmer do now? He would surely seek revenge. Appleby was out of his reach, but Max and Malory and Sam and Morahan were all in Tokyo. Lemmer’s rage at such a moment would be a fearsome thing. Max felt sure he would come after them. Appleby clearly thought likewise. Hence his urging.
Leave as soon as possible.

But Max had no intention of leaving. He was also set upon revenge. And the threat from Lemmer was not going to deflect him.

Malory and Sam were a different matter, however. He would do his best to persuade them to leave. He headed up to his room, meaning to telephone them from there.

But, bemusingly, the telephone was ringing as he entered the room. Cautiously, he picked up the receiver.

‘Yes?’

‘Mr Maxted. This is Laskaris.’

‘Where are you?’

‘Downstairs. But I suggest we meet on the station. I will wait for you on the main platform.’

The line went dead. Laskaris, it was clear, did not entertain the possibility that Max would refuse to meet him.

The station was deep in mid-afternoon torpor. Passengers awaiting trains drifted between patches of shade. The women flourished parasols. The men wore wide-brimmed straw hats. The clack-clack of their wooden sandals came at a heat-slowed pace, like the ticking of a clock that needed winding.

The man on the double-sided bench, facing the station building, was the only Westerner of the right age to be Viktor Laskaris, business partner of the late Alphonse Soutine. He was clad in a three-piece cream suit of immaculate cut, though it needed pressing. On his head he wore a smart panama. He was white-haired and generously moustachioed. His face was babyishly soft, as if he had seldom sat out in the sort of sunshine now bathing the platform. He was smoking a fat cigar, with every impression of relish.

On the other side of the bench, behind him, a boy wearing a school cap and red and white check
yukata
was immersed in a comic book. He had slipped off one of his sandals and was flicking it up and down with his toes, producing a sound like the clop-clop-clop of a horse’s hoof.

Max sat down next to the white-haired man and nodded towards him. ‘Viktor Laskaris?’

‘
C’est moi.
’ Laskaris touched his hat. ‘A pleasure to meet you, Mr Maxted.’

‘It’s more of a surprise to meet you. I thought you didn’t exist.’

‘A sleeping partner is not a non-existent partner. Alphonse liked to confuse people about such matters. He was not a naturally honest man.’

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Speaking to you.’

‘I meant what are you doing in Japan?’

‘The same as you. I am here to avenge a dead man.’

‘Soutine?’

‘
Mais oui. Un cigare?
’ Laskaris took out a case and offered Max a choice of aromatic Havanas.

‘No thanks.’

‘Smoke a cigarette if you wish. I will not be offended.’

‘Perhaps I will.’ Max lit up. ‘How did you know where to find me?’

‘Seddik is with me, Mr Maxted. You know him as le Singe. You will be aware he can find things – including people – that are to others … elusive.’ Laskaris smiled. ‘We travelled here on the same ship as Lemmer and the Tomuras. They know me as Eugène Quinquaud, porcelain collector. They saw nothing of Seddik, though he saw a good deal of them. Since we arrived, I have made extensive enquiries regarding Count Tomura and his collaboration with Lemmer. Seddik has assisted me ably, as you may imagine. I have contacted you because your arrest last night and the death this morning of Anna Schmidt, alias Staun, suggest to me that a crisis is approaching. And I would not want you to meet it … unprepared.’

‘Le Singe – Seddik – has saved my life twice,
monsieur
. I’d like to have the chance to thank him.’

‘He requires no thanks. He bears some responsibility for your father’s death. Alphonse should not have allowed him to work for Tarn. But Alphonse always cared for money more than he should have. Helping you to kill Tarn and to escape being killed by Dombreux were honourable actions, however. I hope you agree?’

‘Of course. But—’

‘Seddik is watching us now. Can you see him?’

Max looked around. ‘No.’

‘You observe the signal gantry at the end of the platform?’

Max peered towards it, but saw nothing of le Singe. ‘Yes.’

‘What do you notice?’

‘Nothing.’

‘That is what you may expect to notice when Seddik watches you. We did not teach him to be so. He was born so, I think. With a gift not to be seen. You, of course, are rather more visible. Which may not be to your advantage.’

‘You seem very sure you know what brought me to Japan,
monsieur
.’

‘I am. Lemmer, of course. Service of your country.
Le patriotisme
. But also Tomura … and the Farngolds.’

‘Did you tell Seddik to write their name on the wall in London?’

‘
Non, non
. I was in Tunisia when all that happened. Attending to my interests. Seddik had seen the name in the documents he stole from Marquess Saionji. Or more correctly the document Marquess Saionji allowed him to steal. Seddik has, ah …
une mémoire visuelle exceptionelle.
He knew Alphonse had drawn your father’s attention to references in those documents to the Farngold family. He knew it was important to your father. And therefore to you.’

‘How much do you know about the Farngolds?’

‘Oh, everything. Everything that can be known, I think. I have the advantage of you. I have read the letter Jack Farngold sent to your father in Petrograd in October 1917. Seddik took it from the villa in Marseilles on my orders. It was actually why I sent him there. Sir Henry had spoken of it to Alphonse. It seemed likely it would give me the answers to many questions.’

‘Dombreux said it didn’t reveal Tomura’s secret.’

‘He lied. Which was as natural to him as breathing.’

‘You know he’s dead?’

‘I do. Also I know Matilda Tomura was your mother. I suspect you have discovered that only recently. Perhaps yesterday. Was that why you went to Tomura’s house last night?’

‘Yes.’ Max drew reflectively on his cigarette. For the first time since learning the truth about his parentage, he felt a measure of calm when contemplating the fact that the woman he had always regarded as his mother was not the woman who had given birth to him. ‘It came as rather a shock.’

‘This is English understatement, I assume.’

‘Will you give me the letter,
monsieur
? I am the son of the man it was addressed to, after all.’

‘It is rightfully yours, I agree. And I will give it to you. But first a word about the future. The immediate future. Do you know why Lemmer has left Tokyo?’

‘I think so, yes.’

‘Is it because you have succeeded in identifying his spies, leaving him with nothing to sell to the Japanese government?’

Max looked at Laskaris in some surprise. The man really did seem to know everything.

Laskaris nodded, taking Max’s silence for confirmation. ‘I thought it must be so. Is that why Anna Schmidt killed herself?’

‘In part.’

‘So, Lemmer will be like us now – looking for revenge?’

‘Quite possibly.’

‘But this will not do enough damage to Tomura to satisfy you?’

‘Not nearly.’

‘Perhaps it will help you to know that I have already devised a scheme that will hurt Tomura – considerably.’

‘What sort of scheme?’

‘Noburo Tomura met an attractive young Frenchwoman on the voyage from Marseilles and became infatuated with her. Her name is Delphine Pouchert. She works for me. As does Louis Pouchert, who will shortly arrive in Tokyo, looking for his wife. Noburo does not think his mistress is married, of course. Pouchert will play the part of the outraged husband. He will challenge Noburo to a duel.’

‘A
duel
?’

‘French husbands can be old-fashioned in such matters. Duelling is illegal in Japan, as elsewhere, but what is the law where honour is at stake? Noburo will have a choice. Refuse to fight and be shamed. Or fight and be killed. Pouchert is an expert swordsman. The outcome is certain. So, Noburo will have to choose between disgrace and death. And his father will have to advise him what to do. The hero of two wars and the son who struts in his shadow. They will have to decide the value of their reputation. Difficult, I think.

‘But their difficulties do not end there. Count Tomura knows of Noburo’s relationship with Delphine. He regards it as harmless. I think he approves of his son keeping a foreign mistress. But he would not approve of the sport she has with his son. Delphine has enhanced the pleasure she gives Noburo during their encounters by persuading him to take various drugs, including the one his father makes so much profit out of selling to the Koreans: morphine. Noburo is addicted to that now as well as to Delphine. His ruin has already begun.

‘When it is complete, I will ensure Count Tomura understands why it has happened. If Noburo had simply killed Alphonse, I would not be here. My friend played too many clever games. They were always likely to lead him to his death. But to torture him as Noburo did? I cannot allow that. So, I will torture Noburo – and his father – in return.’

‘I should warn you,
monsieur
,’ said Max, dropping the butt of his cigarette and crushing it beneath his shoe, ‘that Count Tomura may not be alive to witness his son’s ruin.’

‘Because you intend to kill him?’

‘He killed my mother. What do you expect me to do?’

‘Exactly what you propose. But you are likely to fail. So, I hoped you would be pleased to know that, if you do, the Tomuras will still have me to contend with.’

Max smiled ruefully. ‘That’s a comfort,
monsieur
. I’ll keep it in mind.’

‘Please do. Of course, you may not feel so murderous towards Count Tomura when you have read Jack Farngold’s letter to your father.’

‘I doubt that.’

‘Naturally.’ Laskaris took the letter out of the inside pocket of his jacket and handed it to Max. ‘I have some information regarding the Dragonfly which you may wish to hear about when you have had a chance to reflect on the contents of the letter. You can contact me at the Kojimachi Hotel, where I am registered under the name Quinquaud, of course. I will look forward to hearing from you.’

Max hardly heard him. He recognized the envelope at once: frayed manila, addressed to
Sir Henry Maxted, British Embassy, Dvortsovaya Naberezhnaya, Petrograd, Soviet Russia
, with a green stamp illegibly franked and assorted jottings in Japanese and Russian, along with one word in Russian rubber-stamped in red capitals.

‘Not everything is as you suppose,’ said Laskaris. ‘As you will see.’

MAX DID NOT
look at the letter until he had returned to the privacy of his hotel room. He poured himself a tot of whisky from his emergency supply and sat by the window. The turbid late afternoon air carried the rattle of trams and the cawing of crows. He slipped the letter out of the envelope and began to read.

At that moment, several miles away on the outskirts of the city, a car drew up in front of the main gate of Sugamo prison. Gordon Trumper, United States Embassy consular official, was the driver. Beside him sat Lewis Everett and behind him, in the back seat, Al Duffy.

Trumper sucked his teeth anxiously as a guard emerged from the gatehouse and began to walk towards the car. ‘Jumpy, are we, pal?’ asked Everett.