Cajun Justice(58)

“Is this our new car for Sato-san?”

“Hai,” Umiko said. “Do you like it?”

“It’s gorgeous. Is it armored?”

“Hai,” Umiko replied. “And it has three hundred and twenty-nine horsepower. Morita-san will be able to go even faster now.”

Cain laughed out loud. “If he goes any faster, his passengers will have to clean their seats when they get out.”

Umiko looked confused.

“Bad joke, I guess.” Cain smiled and followed Umiko into the building.

Mr. Sato’s bandage was gone and replaced by a tan Band-Aid. “Your neck has healed very well,” Cain said.

“Yes, it has. Thank you again.”

“I’m sorry about your briefcase.” Cain presented Mr. Sato with a new leather briefcase. “I bought this for you yesterday while I was at the navy base. It’s American made. I thought you’d like it.”

Sato inspected it. “It’s fantastic. Thank you.”

Cain then turned to Morita-san. “I also picked these up for you at the base.”

Morita-san smiled as he saw his gift, a pair of black fingerless motorcycle gloves.

“No more white gloves for you,” Cain said, and winked. “These are more your style.”

Morita-san smiled wide but looked a little embarrassed by all the attention.

“Let us begin,” Sato said, and presided over the celebration in his massive office.

“I am alive today because of the actions of Morita-san, Tanaka-san, Umiko-san, and Cain-san. The company would like to present each of you with a certificate to demonstrate its appreciation for your courage and dedication to duty.” Mr. Sato presented each employee with an elaborate twenty-by-fifteen-inch frame, each of which contained a thick-bonded certificate written in Japanese calligraphy. Sato then turned to Tanaka.

“Tanaka-san, you have shown great wisdom in helping Cain-san. If it were not for your expertise in showing him our protocols and procedures here in Japan, I would not be alive today. The future of this company would be in great peril without strong leadership. As a token of my personal appreciation, I am giving you and Cain-san my table for a night at Hakugei.”

“Arigato gozaimashita,” Tanaka said several times, bowing a full ninety degrees not once but twice. Tanaka then walked backward, which prompted Cain to follow his lead.

“Mr. Sato is giving us his private table at Hakugei,” Tanaka whispered to Cain. “This is very cool. It’s a very expensive restaurant.”

“Expensive doesn’t always mean good,” Cain replied. He wasn’t trying to be dismissive; he was just managing his expectations.

“Hakugei means ‘white whale.’ It’s illegal now in Japan, but my father told me this restaurant secretly sells it. I’ve never had it before, but I’m told it’s very tasty.”

“Whale doesn’t seem very appetizing to me, Tanaka. Sounds fatty and rubbery. How about a steak house?”

“There will be sake, too. Lots of it.”

Cain thought it over. “Okay, but I ain’t staying at a capsule hotel afterward again. Been there, done that.”

“Got the T-shirt?” Tanaka smiled.

Cain laughed. “I love it when you get American humor.”

“Hakugei—it’s a deal.” Tanaka shook Cain’s hand. “When should I make the reservation?”

“Friday night’s always a good time to blow off some steam.”





Chapter 48



“Let’s shut it down,” Cain said to Tanaka that Friday evening after they had been working for more than ten hours.

“I’ve been looking forward to Hakugei all week,” Tanaka said with a big grin.

“This whale you keep droning on and on about must be the best in the world.”

“Are you going to at least try it?” Tanaka asked.

“Which is better? Eel or whale?”

“Both are delicious,” he said. “But I prefer whale.”

“Well, I’m going to have to drink a lot of sake before I start eating raw whale,” Cain said as they headed out of the office.

The restaurant was a stone building with bamboo and wooden accents. The entryway was illuminated by amber lighting. The hostess, who was dressed like a geisha, greeted them upon entry. She provided Cain and Tanaka with slippers. They quickly put them on and trailed the hostess as she led them to their table. It was an antique solid-wood table that sat about a foot above a traditional tatami mat. Cain and Tanaka kneeled on the soft but firm mat, which was made of rice straw.

A few moments later, a group of customers walked in. Cain saw the manager covertly slide his finger down his cheek to signal one of the other well-dressed staffers.

Tanaka was reading the menu and did not see the exchange, so Cain asked him what it meant.

“They are realtors,” Tanaka said.

“Are you telling me those people sell houses?”

“No.” Tanaka lowered his voice. “Realtors is a slang word for yakuza because they own so much real estate, and they use the property to hide their illegal money legitimately. Or so I’m told by my father.”

“What’s the mafia doing in here?”

“Same reason other Japanese come here: it’s a place for rich people to eat expensive and illegal food. It is also a status symbol.”