Rising Sun

Second Night

1

The sun was setting on the sekitei. The shadows of the rocks rippled over the concentric circles of raked sand. I sat and stared at the patterns. Co

But I didn’t want to watch TV any more. I had seen enough, in the last hour, to know how the media was going to play it. Senator Morton had been under a great deal of stress lately. His family life was troubled; his teenage son had recently been arrested for drunk driving, after an accident in which another teenager had been seriously injured. The senator’s daughter was rumored to have had an abortion. Mrs. Morton was not available for comment, although reporters were standing outside the family townhouse in Arlington.

The senator’s staff all agreed that the senator had been under enormous pressure lately, trying to balance family life and his own impending candidacy. The senator had not been himself; he had been moody and withdrawn, and in the words of one staffer, “He seemed to have been troubled by something personal.”

While no one questioned the senator’s judgment, one colleague, Senator Dowling, said that Morton had “become a bit of a fanatic about Japan lately, perhaps an indication of the strain he was under. John didn’t seem to think accommodation with Japan was possible anymore, and of course we all know that we have to make an accommodation. Our two nations are now too closely bound together. Unfortunately, none of us could have known the strain he was really under. John Morton was a private man.”

I sat watching the rocks in the garden turn gold, then red. An American Zen monk named Bill Harris came out and asked me if I wanted tea, or perhaps a Coke. I said no. He went away. Looking back inside, I saw flickering blue light from the tube. I couldn’t see Co

I looked back at the rocks in the garden.

The first gunshot had not killed Senator Morton. When we kicked open the bathroom door, he was bleeding from the neck, staggering to his feet. Co

Then people started screaming. I had turned back and I saw the makeup girl in the doorway, holding her hands to her face and screaming at the top of her lungs. Eventually, when the paramedics came, they sedated her.

Co

That had bothered Co

“Who cares?” I said.

“There’s a problem with Eddie,” Co

“What problem?”

“Didn’t you notice how he acted around Ishiguro? He was too confident,” Co

I shrugged. “You said it yourself, Eddie’s crazy. Who knows why he does what he does.” I was tired of the case, and tired of Co

“I hope you’re right,” Co

He led me toward the rear entrance to the station. Co

And then for the next hour, I watched television. Until I didn’t want to watch any more.

It was almost dark. The sand was purple-gray. My body was stiff from sitting, and it was growing chilly. My beeper went off, I was getting a call from the division. Or perhaps it was Theresa. I got up and went inside.

On the television set, Senator Stephen Rowe was expressing sympathy for the bereaved family, and talking about the fact that Senator Morton had been overstressed. Senator Rowe pointed out that the Akai offer had not been withdrawn. The sale was, so far as Rowe knew, still going through, and there would not now be any serious opposition.

“Hmmm,” Co

“The sale is back on?” I said.

“It seems it was never off.” Co

“You don’t approve of the sale?”

“I’m worried about Eddie. He was so cocky. It’s a question of what Ishiguro will do now.”

“Who cares?” I was tired. The girl was dead, Morton was dead, and the sale was going forward.

Co

“How?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know, for sure.”

My beeper went off again. I called in. It was Frank Ellis, the watch officer at division headquarters for the evening.

“Hey, Pete,” he said. “We got a call for Special Services. Sergeant Matlovsky, down at vehicle impound. He’s asking for language assistance.”

“What is it?” I said.

“He says he’s got five Japanese nationals down there, demanding to inspect the wrecked vehicle.”

I frowned. “What wrecked vehicle?”

“That Ferrari. The one in the high-speed pursuit. Apparently it’s pretty ragged: the impact crushed it, and there was a fire. And the body was cut out with torches by the VHDV teams this morning. But the Japanese insist on inspecting the vehicle anyway. Matlovsky can’t tell from the paperwork whether it’s okay to let somebody look at it or not. You know, whether it’s material to an ongoing investigation or not. And he can’t speak the language to understand the Japanese. One of the Japanese claims to be related to the deceased. So, you want to go down there and handle it?”

I sighed. “Am I on tonight? I was on last night.”

“Well, you’re on the board. You traded nights with Allen, looks like.”

I dimly remembered. I had traded nights with Jim Allen so he could take his kid to a Kings hockey game. I had agreed to it a week ago, but it seemed like something from my distant past.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll handle it.”

I went back to tell Co

“We’re going to impound?”

“Impound? Absolutely not.”

“Then what are we doing?”

“Oh, damn it, I’m a fool!” he said. He was already heading for the car.

I hurried after him.

As I pulled up in front of Eddie Sakamura’s house, Co

Co

“What what meant?” I said. I was panting a little, at the top of the steps.