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  It was spacious inside. A walkway extended down the right hand side as you came in and became a corridor some fifty feet later, off which there were one or two rooms that spread across the width of the place. The rest of the space was taken up with padded mats. Once they were lined up in grade order on the mats, Oyama took them through a warm up routine of stretches, jumps and squats, after which there was a short period of meditation. Nick sat with eyes closed, using the opportunity to catch his breath and relax a little. When he opened them again there was another man sitting with Oyama at the front, facing them. He had appeared as if by magic, there’d been no indication of anyone else entering the room. Oyama clapped his hands and the students focused their attention on him.

  ‘Sensei Mashida,’ he said, nodding his head in the direction of the new arrival. The students, who were sat on their heels, bowed their heads to the mat in respect.

  Yoshi Mashida was tall, like his daughter. When the two senseis stood up, he was a head above Oyama. He had a broad, well defined face with intelligent enquiring black eyes and he sported a full head of thick black hair, tinged with grey in places. Fifty-something, Nick guessed. There was that same twist of the mouth that Mariko had, though on him it conveyed a kind of calm ruthlessness. Like her, the ruthlessness vanished when he smiled, which he did now as he said a few words of welcome in both Japanese and English.

  Then he demonstrated a very basic technique - the application of an arm lock against a striking opponent, in this case Oyama. The ease and fluidity of his movement was astonishing. He did it quickly to start with, taking Oyama down to the mat in a split second. It was a tribute to the skill of both men that they could perform the manoeuvre so fast and then Oyama could get up intact. Mashida repeated the move, slowing it down as he did so. Then the students paired off to do it themselves. Mariko was the only woman in the group, but that was no disadvantage. Relaxation and good movement would overcome a stronger opponent, and as he cast the odd surreptitious look her way he saw her display the same speed and grace her father had just demonstrated.

  They practised various other techniques for the next three hours and then there was a two hour break, followed by another three hours. By 4pm, when they finished for the day, even the studious and obviously much fitter Japanese students looked a little lacklustre. Nick was knackered. He went back to the lodge and lay down on the bed for an hour, luxuriating in the feeling of simply not moving. If this was the daily routine, he wasn’t sure he could go the distance. Today was Monday and he wanted to spend at least part of one working day this week in Tokyo, talking to Kate Suzuki. He decided to walk over to the house and broach the subject with Katsu Oyama.

  Mariko opened the door.

  ‘Hope I’m not disturbing you,’ said Nick. ‘Just need to speak to Katsu for a moment.’

  ‘Please come in. We’re having some tea, I’ll get another cup.’

  She showed him through to the living room. Oyama and Mashida were seated on the floor, around a low table. Oyama gestured towards a vacant cushion and Nick took a seat, cross-legged. He explained the reason for his visit.

  ‘This is something of a working holiday for me. There’s a lady at Sotheby’s in Tokyo, who may be able to help me with my investigation. I want to make an appointment and visit her sometime this week.’

  Mashida raised an eyebrow. ‘Investigation? What exactly are you investigating?’

  Mariko joined them. She poured Nick a cup of green tea from the teapot on the table and passed it to him. Between sips, he summarised the case for Mashida, repeating the conversation he’d had with Jameson regarding the reclusive billionaire, Takashi Yamada. He noticed a quick look of surprise on Mashida’s face. Oyama almost scowled.

  ‘What is it?’

  Oyama answered. ‘We know Yamada. We have known him for a long time, from when we were all young men. He took something from both of us.’

  It was Nick’s turn to look surprised. He looked across at Mariko, but her eyes were fixed firmly on the table top. Mashida was looking out the partly open sliding door behind Mariko, through which there was a path into a garden beyond. Then he brought his mind back to the room and looked directly at Nick.

  ‘You won’t need to visit Tokyo to find out about Yamada. I can tell you a great deal.’ He paused, marshalling his thoughts. ‘I am doing some work for certain people. You could call me a private investigator, I suppose. We are both policemen, though I have more, shall I say, freedom in my work.’

  ‘Your work involves Yamada? What did he take?’

  Mashida’s expression darkened and Mariko looked slightly uncomfortable. Nick thought he might have made a faux-pas, but there was no taking it back.

  ‘It is not important,’ said Mashida. ‘It is interesting that you say he may have bought these lions. My own investigation involves the recovery of money invested in a property development. The money was advanced by a group of investors in Tokyo, but the development never took place. They are still waiting for a refund.’

  ‘I thought Yamada was a billionaire. Couldn’t he finance the development himself?’

  ‘He is head of Yamada Steel, but according to him, until his father dies he has only a handful of shares in the company. The property development was run using an entirely separate company which conveniently went bankrupt. Still, if he spent $100 million on something recently he must have access to more liquid assets than I realised.’

  ‘How do you intend to recover the money he owes his investors?’ asked Nick.

  ‘I have a man on the inside. We know he has an alternative source of income and when we find it we will demand repayment.’

  ‘You’ll take him to court, you mean.’

  Mashida smiled. ‘No, we have our own way of settling these matters.’ He turned his eyes to the garden again, thinking. ‘Perhaps you should meet Ms Suzuki,’ he said. ‘Find out exactly where she was on the property when this lorry was about to be unloaded. Whatever was on it is probably not far away. Mariko will accompany you to Tokyo.’

  Mariko looked up and nodded her head in agreement. ‘It will be my pleasure,’ she said.

  Chapter 14

  Mariko made the phone call to Sotheby’s, in Tokyo. When she got through to Kate Suzuki there was a short interval while introductions were made in Japanese and then she handed the phone to Nick.

  ‘Clive Jameson told me you might call,’ said Kate. ‘I’m not sure if I can be of much help, though.’

  ‘Let’s talk anyway, if you don’t mind. You can give me some background on Takashi Yamada, if nothing else.’

  ‘Well, if you came all this way just to meet me…’

  Nick laughed. ‘I’m doing an Aikido retreat, near Kiyosato, with Yoshi Mashida.’

  ‘Ah, I see. Of course, that was his daughter, Mariko. I should have realised. If you can get here for 2pm Friday, I can see you then.’

  Nick felt he’d missed something where the Mashida family was concerned. He confirmed with Mariko and told Kate he was looking forward to it.

  The training continued next day. It was much the same as Monday, with the addition of some practice with the short staff. It wasn’t something they did often in London and Nick had to concentrate to remember what little he knew about the use of the wooden staff as a weapon. There was a form, or kata, consisting of several moves performed in sequence. Once you got this, you could use it in pairs practice and then speed the whole thing up. The Japanese students were way ahead of him in their proficiency and he felt woefully inadequate each time he found himself paired with one of them. He persevered, and by Thursday it was getting easier. He was still tired by the end of each session though, both mentally and physically. It seemed they did nothing but eat, sleep and train. There was no energy left for anything else. He wasn’t even sure if they had the weekend off.

  On the Friday, he and Mariko took the 11am train. He wanted to ask her about the history her father and Oyama had with Yamada, but thought it might be off limits. She had all the questions, wanting to
know about London, then his job. Was he married? Why wasn’t Lauren here too? When they reached Tokyo, he realised he hadn’t discovered anything new about her. The train ran on time and the taxi from Shinjuku station dropped them at Sotheby’s with ten minutes to spare.

  Kate Suzuki appeared almost immediately, once they’d announced themselves at reception. Her mixed heritage was evident in her face, which had a broad Anglo-Saxon aspect to it, with a wide mouth, a delicate Japanese nose and dark almond-shaped eyes. The hair was dark too, but not jet-black like Mariko’s. The effect, if not beautiful, was certainly striking. He couldn’t pick her age, somewhere near his own, maybe. She looked at Mariko with interest, before turning to him.

  ‘Come through to my office.’

  ‘I think I will go shopping,’ said Mariko. ‘Back in one hour?’

  ‘OK, see you then.’ He followed Kate down a carpeted corridor. She had a private office overlooking the street.

  ‘Don’t speak English very often these days,’ she said. ‘Most of our clients are Asian here in Tokyo.’

  ‘You seem very interested in Mariko Mashida,’ he said, once they were seated.

  ‘I was quite surprised to hear you were staying at her father’s retreat. He’s almost as reclusive as Takashi Yamada. How did you come by this honour?’

  ‘My teacher in London brought us over, his name’s Oyama. Is there something I don’t know about Yoshi Mashida?’

  Her eyes widened. ‘Katsu Oyama?’ Nick nodded. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t been visited by the press, yet,’ said Kate. ‘You really know nothing, do you?’

  ‘It would appear not. Enlighten me.’

  She told him the story. Ten or eleven years ago now, she couldn’t remember precisely, there had been a scandal involving the three men and Mashida’s wife, Yuki. They knew each other because they had attended the same Aikido school in Tokyo when they were young men. Katsu Oyama had gained a reputation as a swordsmith, having just finished an eight year apprenticeship. He was already known as an exceptional sword maker, even at that early stage of his career. Modern day swordsmiths could still make a good living from the craft and Oyama, who had little money but wanted to build and manage his own business, accepted a loan from Yamada. The security for this loan would come in the form of the first two swords to come out of the new forge. Once the loan was repaid the swords would be returned.

  ‘When the swords were produced, the experts began comparing Oyama to the greatest swordsmith in Japanese history, Masamune. It was extraordinary and enough to make him famous overnight,’ said Kate.

  Oyama was happy enough to honour his obligation and handed the swords over as promised. Then things took a darker turn. Mashida was the only married man of the three and they often gathered at his house, with Yuki playing hostess. But unknown to Mashida, his wife and Yamada had started an affair. It went on for over a year, until Mashida tumbled to it. Shortly afterwards, Yuki’s naked body was discovered in a bedroom in the large rambling house on the Yamada estate. She had apparently committed suicide out of shame, and she did it with one of Oyama’s swords. An alternative version had Yamada murdering her in a drunken rage when she said the affair was over.

  Suicide was the official verdict. Yamada pleaded contrition to Mashida, but it fell on deaf ears. Mashida publicly accused him of murder, but had no evidence. Oyama demanded his swords back and even sent Yamada money he’d raised from another source, but they weren’t returned. After some months, Oyama sold his fledgling business and left Japan. The shame of knowing his friend’s wife had been killed by a sword made by him, was too much to bear.

  ‘The Japanese public followed all this in the newspapers with great interest,’ said Kate. ‘Think it was in the English press, too.’

  ‘Well, I don’t remember it,’ replied Nick. He’d wondered about Mariko’s mother, where she might be. He would have asked Mariko on the way down here if she hadn’t been doing all the talking and he hadn’t felt so inhibited by not knowing about the customs in this country. It might be insensitive to ask.

  ‘I hope you won’t tell the press that Katsu Oyama is back,’ he said.

  ‘It isn’t something I would do. They have a way of finding out about these things, anyway.’ She got up. ‘I’ll get us some tea.’

  When Kate returned, he asked her about Yamada.

  ‘Quite reclusive,’ she said. ‘In his late 40’s, a little overweight these days. He is still a good-looking man, though.’

  ‘If he never goes out, what does he do all day?’

  ‘I think he goes out. But he takes steps to make sure he isn’t seen in public very much. He can do a lot of what he needs to do for his business from home. And if he wants something, it comes to him.’

  ‘What’s your relationship with him?’ asked Nick, wondering if this wasn’t too direct a question.

  Kate looked unoffended. ‘Purely professional. We buy and sell on his behalf. The painting he wants sold is a Picasso.’

  ‘What will that fetch at auction?’

  ‘We have a reserve on it at $40 million. It might fetch twice that.’

  ‘And what about the rumours? The works of art that are never seen by anyone but him. Are they true?’

  Kate gave a soft smile of amusement. ‘I think perhaps they are. I know Oyama’s swords are stashed away in a private gallery beneath the house, but I’ve never been in there and I don’t know anyone who has. But people talk.’

  ‘Where exactly is this gallery?’

  ‘That’s the interesting part. Whatever they were taking off the lorry would have gone into the underground garage. The gallery, to the best of my knowledge, is down there.’ She opened a drawer. ‘I did you a little map of the place.’

  He looked at the sheet of paper she passed across, on which was drawn a precise, almost draughtsman-like layout of the house and grounds from above.

  ‘There are some other detached buildings I haven’t put on there,’ said Kate. ‘And the house is on two levels. But you can see where the garage is.’

  ‘Thanks, this will be useful.’ He folded it and then placed it in the inside pocket of his jacket.

  ‘Good. Now, my turn. Why do you think he has the golden lions?’

  He laughed. ‘I have no evidence, just more rumours. And as I was in Japan, I thought it was worth a shot. I can’t exactly roll up and ask him though.’

  ‘Would you like to meet him?’

  His eyebrows shot up. ‘How do I do that?’

  ‘Well, I said he’s reclusive. But once every few months he comes out of his shell and gives a party. The “Autumn Party” is happening on Sunday evening. You could come as my escort.’

  Not an unpleasant prospect, he thought. ‘Who goes to these things?’

  ‘The great and the good of Tokyo. It’s not black-tie or anything like that, but you’ll need a good suit.’

  ‘Sounds a bit out of my league, socially. But yes, I’d love to come.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, smiling broadly now. ‘You just have to bow occasionally and look interested. I’ll do most of the talking, anyway.’

  The phone on Kate’s desk rang. She picked up.

  ‘Mariko’s back. We will need to arrive at the party no later than 8pm. You can meet me at my place.’ She got out her card and wrote the address on the back of it. ‘Means another trip to Tokyo, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I don’t mind. I don’t meet reclusive billionaires very often. It could be fun.’

  Mariko had two shopping bags with her and he wondered what she’d bought. She looked quite elegant as she was, wearing a light blue mid-length skirt and a white cotton top with short sleeves. Most of the women on the streets of Tokyo were well dressed, they obviously had a keen sense of fashion.

  ‘I need to go shopping, now,’ he told her. ‘Need a suit.’

  Her eyes lit up. ‘Really, you have a date? Come on, I will find you a very nice suit.’

  They spent an hour browsing various stores before she chose something she deemed sui
table for a man to wear at a classy party. It was clear she was enjoying the experience, she was more relaxed and open away from the retreat environment. She even teased him on his choice of tie. If she had any reservations about the fact it was Takashi Yamada’s party, she kept them to herself.

  On the return journey, he read a sale catalogue that Kate had given him. Yamada’s painting was lot 35. He turned the pages idly, wondering how he, or anyone else for that matter, could get access to Yamada’s private gallery. He looked up, to find Mariko regarding him with a quiet intensity.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  ‘Did she tell you?’

  ‘Tell me… Ah yes, she did. I’m sorry about your mother.’

  She said nothing in reply and averted her eyes, so he changed the subject.

  ‘Your father said he had a man inside. Do you know about that?’

  ‘Yes, he works as a chauffeur. Not that he is needed that much.’

  ‘That’s perfect. When we get back, could you ask your father if this man could prepare a list of Yamada’s movements? Last two weeks in August should do it.’

  ‘Yes, that should be possible. Why do you want to know?’

  Nick shrugged. ‘I just want to know if he left Japan in that time, and if so, where he went.’

  She looked interested now. ‘We should be able to find out quite quickly. I will speak to my father when we get back.’

  It was early evening when they returned. At the lodge, Rory told him they would train tomorrow and have Sunday off. The Japanese students had invited them out for lunch in Kiyosato.

  ‘In fact, I think both the senseis are coming too,’ he said. ‘Might turn into a bit of a session.’

  He could well imagine. There was no social stigma around drunkenness in Japan. No one would turn a hair at a bunch of foreigners and Japanese getting hammered together in a local restaurant. They might even join in.

  On Sunday they arrived at the restaurant around midday. Kiyosato was a popular holiday destination and the place was humming already. Mariko had reserved a table for twelve and as soon as they were seated, bottles of beer appeared. Nick was placed between Mariko and Yoshi Mashida. He had decided to go straight from here to Tokyo at 4pm and had brought his clothes for the evening with him. They were now hanging in a walk-in closet area by the door, courtesy of the management.