Cajun Justice(59)

“And to think,” Cain said, “our American mafia just likes spaghetti with meatballs.”

Tanaka laughed. “I’m sure yakuza like spaghetti with meatballs, too. And they probably like the Godfather movie as well.” Tanaka did his best Marlon Brando impression: “I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse.”

“If your house is as small as my apartment, a horse’s head wouldn’t even fit!” Cain said with a half smile. “On second thought, it wouldn’t even fit on the mattress in my apartment!”

Cain’s apartment, one of over four hundred located in an apartment complex that towered over downtown Yokohama, was furnished, but like most Japanese apartments, it was tiny. Cain reckoned it was only about five hundred square feet. His refrigerator resembled a college dorm fridge, and his single bed was so small his feet dangled off the end. So Cain had thrown his mattress on the floor and slept there. The stove and oven dials were all in Japanese, so he never used them. His favorite room was the bathroom. It was the most utilitarian. The toilet seat was heated, and the shower and a small washer-dryer combo were next to it. There were several complicated panels that controlled everything, but Cain didn’t know what half the buttons did.

Tanaka raised his sake cup. “To Japanese life.”

“Kanpai,” Cain replied.

They drank warm sake as their elite meals were delivered on white plates with wasabi on the side.

Cain used his hashi to pick up a piece of food, dipped it in wasabi, and started chewing it. “What is this?” He continued chewing the fatty meat. “Is this the whale you’ve been talking about? It tastes like boiled beef!”

“It is the liver of the fugu.”

“Come on, Tanaka. I’m not interested in experimenting with my taste buds tonight. I just want a good meal after all the hard work we’ve been doing.”

“The liver of the fugu is the most poisonous—”

“The most poisonous!” Cain put his napkin to his mouth and subtly spit out his fugu.

“But it is also the tastiest,” Tanaka said. “Before it was made illegal in Japan, my father used to enjoy it very much.”

“Don’t you find it odd?” Cain asked. “In a country where 99.9 percent of the population are rule followers, Sato-san sent us here—to a restaurant that serves illegal dishes?”

“Not really,” Tanaka said. “I think he is part owner of this restaurant—or at least was before all the news about the company.”

“Really?” Cain was always interested in learning more about the people he protected. “Tell me more.”

“He used to come here a lot. But after the news of the company was published, I think he sold his partnership in the restaurant.”

“Interesting.” Cain ruminated on that for a moment. “Was that in the news?”

“No. Sato-san is a private man. He’s normally not in the news, except when he builds a new orphanage.”

“A new orphanage?”

“Hai, hai, hai.” Tanaka’s voice reflected his admiration. “Sato-san spends a lot of his money on helping kids without families. He also helps find them work at our factory. I think Morita-san was once an orphan.”

“Is that why Morita-san is his driver?”

“Japanese culture places a high importance on loyalty—sometimes more than on talent. Sato-san will keep Morita-san as his driver until Morita-san can no longer do the job.”

“Well, he certainly impressed me the other day. Gives credence to not judging a book by its cover.”

“But Sato-san also realized he needed an expert to keep him alive. That’s why you were chosen. As a Japanese CEO of one of the most powerful car companies in the world, he knew it was culturally important to highlight the good of Japan, especially because of the bad press he is receiving. That’s why at the award ceremony he thanked me for helping you assimilate.”

“Assimilate?” Cain chuckled. “I still feel like a bull in a china shop here.”

“It will take time,” Tanaka said. “Japanese culture goes back thousands of years. Only 2 percent of our population is non-Japanese. We all share the same language, the same religion, the same customs.”

“How long, you think, before I start blending in?”

“Um, maybe twenty, twenty-five years,” Tanaka said matter-of-factly.

Cain laughed out loud. “I like you, Tanaka-san. You keep it real.”

“That’s why,” Tanaka continued, “I would like to take you to a special place—a fun place.”

“Why do I get the impression you and I don’t see eye to eye on fun?”

“We can sing karaoke!”

Cain laughed again. “If I’m singing, the customers are gonna scatter. The place won’t make any business. They’ll have to close down.”

“Seriously, I would like to take you to the Angel Cloud. It’s a popular hangout for expats and Japanese who want to sing with foreigners like yourself. It’s a very short walk from here. It will help you become more like a Japanese man.”

“I won’t sing, but I’ll join you for a cigar and American whiskey. I need something stronger than that sake to wash that fugu down! I can still taste that poison in my throat.”