The Accompanist

Chapter 28: Little Interruptions

Cold seeped through Mr. Umari's clothes as he leaned back against the concrete, peeling the binoculars away from his bloodshot eyes. He hadn't slept in a few days, but while the lives of his wife and daughter were at risk, sleep didn't matter.

The modern two-story home across the street belonged to a middle-aged man who worked for a moving company. Just the day before, he was reported for suspicious activity by someone in the Nakagawa clan. As far as Mr. Umari knew, this man had a family, a wife and a child. If there was any communication with Mr. Kurata, it was minimal.

Long at last, around five in the morning, there was suspicious movement. Mr. Umari's senses snapped back to life at the squeaky hinges of the metal gate that surrounded the house. Black hair emerged from the neatly trimmed shrubberies, his voice in a low growl.

"Just because I have connections doesn't mean he has to use me again... Just two days. Who could plow through that much in two days?! My real boss is going to kill me."

He waited until his target turned around the corner, then stepped out of the narrow alleyway he'd been using as cover, adjusting his black suit tie. It was easy to feign the ignorance of a hungover salaryman with the genuinely tired look in his eyes.

A short bus ride later, they arrived at Akabane station. The man slid his phone over the digital IC card touch screen and made his way to platform 7, waited around for 6 minutes, and hopped aboard a local train to Ikebukuro. Somehow, Mr. Umari wasn't surprised.

He followed suit, standing a good distance away, letting his head sag as the train squealed its departure. But his eyes never left his target. They followed the man's disheveled form in the reflection of the window, his nervous feet shifting his weight from side to side. On his face was the guilty look of a child who had stolen a cookie and was trying to get away with it.

This would definitely lead somewhere.

When the train finally stopped, Mr. Umari got off first and headed for the elevator, only to yank off his tie and change out his hat for sunglasses. It wasn't his first time in Ikebukuro. He had been there several times, buying gun ammo and doing investigations around the black market. He knew his way around.

As his target got in line for the standing side of the escalator, he took the walking side to make up for lost time and headed for the south exit.

The streets felt nearly the same as they had been ten years ago, only more lit up and lively. He thought he knew exactly where the man was going. But when he took a sharp turn down a different alleyway, Mr. Umari almost lost him.

The man disappeared through a narrow space that seemed like a dead end. But if one simply moved a black curtain at the "end" of the concrete walls, they would find themselves descending a set of steps to a forbidden paradise.

Drugs, guns, illegal gambling, human organs, underage porn; you name it. Whatever you couldn't get on the surface was down there.

He moved the curtain away and descended the last few steps into the bustling area. Tables with wares of goods lined the graffiti covered walls. Desperate people shopped their lives away.

The target made his way to a table in the far corner, red tablecloth attracting the eye of passerby's, a roulette whirring on the tabletop. A small glance and a few hand signs under the table later, the gamblers cast their bets.

The metal ball jumped over the wooden creases until it finally landed on the exact number that his target had indicated. He managed to escape from the angry mob with a large amount of cash.

But it wasn't the cash Mr. Umari was interested in; it was what the man would do with it.

The man paused before a table containing rows of little glass bottles with a clear liquid inside. They were advertised with a single candy bar: one particularly well known in Japan. Liquid ketamine, more commonly known as Kit-Kat; a drug that makes one detached from their surroundings and causes amnesia while the patient is under its effects.