Bullet Train Read online

  ‘You’re full of shit.’ Kimura stares daggers.

  ‘I am not full of shit. I’m always deadly serious. I think maybe you’re the one who’s full of shit.’

  Kimura’s flaring nostrils show that he’s on the brink of an explosion, but it finally seems to dawn on him that there’s nothing he can do. His rigid body goes slack, he slumps back in the seat. The attendant is pushing the snack trolley by and the Prince makes a point to stop her and buy more chocolates. Somehow she doesn’t notice that Kimura’s hands and feet are bound. Watching Kimura sitting next to him with mouth clamped shut and face red with rage feels exquisite.

  ‘You should be paying attention to my phone, Mr Kimura. If I get a call and it rings ten times, you won’t be happy about what happens.’

  Fruit

  ‘TANGERINE, WHAT DO WE DO?’ Lemon looks down at Little Minegishi, who sits there eyes closed, not moving. The mouth hangs open in a stupid gape, like he’s making fun of them. It makes Lemon feel uncomfortable.

  ‘What can we do?’ Tangerine is rubbing his cheeks busily. Seeing Tangerine off balance for a change is a slight comfort to Lemon. ‘This is all because you let him out of your sight. Why did you leave the kid alone?’

  ‘I had to. You were on my case about the bag so I wanted to go and check up on it. What’d you expect me to do, after giving me such a hard time?’

  ‘The bag was stolen for sure.’ Tangerine sighs. ‘Everything with you is sloppy, your words, your actions, your way of thinking. You’re such a typical B.’

  Lemon snorts. ‘Don’t try to sum me up by my blood type. There’s no scientific proof for that. Talking seriously about that stuff just makes you sound stupid. If it were true, that would make you organised and precise just because you’re an A.’

  ‘I am organised and precise, and when I do a job I do it nice and neat.’

  ‘Big talk. Listen, my failures are my own. They have nothing to do with my blood type.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re right,’ Tangerine says brightly. ‘Your failures come down to your character and your lack of judgement.’

  Tangerine is getting self-conscious standing in the aisle, so he leans down and hoists Little Minegishi’s body over to the window seat, propping it up against the window with head tipped slightly forward. ‘Guess we just have to make it look like he’s sleeping, for now.’

  Tangerine takes the middle seat, and Lemon eases down into the aisle seat muttering darkly. ‘Who the fuck did this? How did he even die?’

  Tangerine starts feeling around the body. There are no obvious cuts, no blood. He opens the kid’s mouth wide and peers inside. He doesn’t want to look too closely, though, in case there’s something poisonous in there. ‘No obvious marks on the body.’

  ‘Poison?’

  ‘Could be. Or maybe an allergic reaction and he went into shock.’

  ‘What could he have been allergic to?’

  ‘Don’t know. I’m not the creator of allergies, remember? Hey, it could be that all of this was too much for him, getting kidnapped then rescued, no sleep, totally exhausted, and his heart just gave out.’

  ‘Is that medically possible?’

  ‘Lemon, have you ever seen me reading a medical textbook?’

  ‘You’re always reading something.’ Tangerine does take a book with him wherever he goes, even on jobs, and starts reading whenever there’s any downtime.

  ‘I like fiction, not medical books. How should I know if there are medically established cases of people’s hearts giving out?’

  Lemon pulls at his hair. ‘But what are we going to do? Just show up in Morioka and go to Minegishi, Sorry, sir, we rescued your son but he died on the Shinkansen?’

  ‘Don’t forget that the ransom money was stolen too.’

  ‘If I were Minegishi I’d be pretty angry.’

  ‘I would be too. Furious.’

  ‘But it’s like, all he did was sit around in his villa!’ They didn’t know for certain, but there was a rumour that Minegishi was on holiday with his mistress and their illegitimate daughter. ‘There’s a whole fiasco with his son getting kidnapped and all but he goes on a family trip with his girlfriend. It’s bullshit.’

  ‘The little girl’s still in school, supposed to be really cute. And then you have his heir, this rich kid here. A lightweight, a nobody. It’s not hard to guess which one he loves more.’ Tangerine doesn’t sound like he’s making a joke.

  ‘Well, now he’s a lightweight nobody who’s also dead. But hey, maybe this works out for Minegishi and he’ll go easy on us.’

  ‘No way. Say you have a car that you don’t really like – if someone else wrecks it you’d still be pissed off. And there’s the matter of his reputation.’

  Lemon looks like he’s about to wail about the tough spot they’re in, so Tangerine quickly holds up a finger and says Shh. ‘We’ll just have to figure something out.’

  ‘Figuring things out is your job.’

  ‘Moron.’

  Lemon starts to move around, checking the area by the window next to the body, checking the trays attached to the seats in front of them, flipping through the magazines in the seat-back pockets.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Thought there might be some kind of clue. But there’s nothing. Stupid rich kid.’

  ‘Clue?’

  ‘Like maybe he wrote the killer’s name in blood or something like that. That could happen, right?’

  ‘It could happen if this were a murder mystery novel. Not in real life.’

  ‘I guess you’re right.’ Lemon puts the magazine back despondently, but still pokes and prods the seat and walls around the corpse.

  ‘I doubt he had time to leave any kind of clues before he died. There isn’t even any blood, how could he have written a message in blood?’

  Lemon looks irritated by Tangerine’s logic. ‘Well, dying like this doesn’t help the people trying to solve the case at all. Just for future reference, Tangerine, if you think someone’s about to kill you, make sure you leave behind some useful clues.’

  ‘What kind of clues would you like me to leave?’

  ‘Like the identity of the killer, or the truth or something. At the very least make it clear whether it was murder or suicide or an accident. Otherwise it’ll be a pain in the ass for me.’

  ‘If I go, it won’t be suicide,’ Tangerine proclaims in no uncertain terms. ‘I like Virginia Woolf and Mishima, but suicide doesn’t sit right with me.’

  ‘Virginia who?’

  ‘Those trains you’re always talking about are much harder to keep straight than books. Why don’t you try reading one of the books I recommend to you?’

  ‘I’ve never been into books, not even when I was a kid. You know how long it takes me to finish a book? And what about you, you never even try to remember all the Thomas and Friends characters, no matter how many times I tell you. You don’t even know which one Percy is.’

  ‘Which one is Percy again?’

  Lemon clears his throat. ‘Percival is a small, green engine. He is rather cheeky and loves to play tricks, though he is very serious when it comes to his work. He often pulls pranks on his friends, but is also somewhat gullible.’

  ‘I always wonder how you can memorise all these.’

  ‘It’s on the trading card from the toy model. Pretty cool, huh? It’s a simple explanation, but it also has depth. Percy often pulls pranks on his friends, but is also somewhat gullible, see? It’s kind of touching. Makes me get a little emotional, even. I bet your books don’t have the same kind of depth.’

  ‘Just try reading something and see. Start with, I don’t know, To the Lighthouse.’

  ‘What’ll it tell me?’

  ‘How insignificant we all are, how we’re all just a single existence among the countless other existences. It’ll make you feel how small you are, how you’re lost in the limitless expanse of the ocean of time, swallowed by the waves. It’s powerful stuff. We perished, each alone.’

  ‘The
hell does that mean?’

  ‘It’s a line from one of the characters in the novel. It means that everyone dies, and they’re alone when they do.’

  Lemon sneers. ‘I’m not gonna die.’

  ‘You’ll die, and you’ll die alone.’

  ‘Even if I do die, I’ll come back.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s like you to be so stubborn. But I’m going to die someday. Alone.’

  ‘And I’m telling you, when you do, leave me some kind of clue.’

  ‘Okay, okay. If by some chance it looks like I’m about to be killed, I’ll do my best to leave you a message.’

  ‘When you’re writing the killer’s name in blood, do it clearly, make it legible, okay? No initials or mysterious abbreviations.’

  ‘I’m not going to write anything in blood.’ Tangerine stops to think for a moment. ‘Here, how about this? Say I have a chance to talk to the killer before he does me, I’ll give him a message.’

  ‘A message?’

  ‘I’ll say something that’ll stick with him. Like, “Tell Lemon the key he’s looking for is at the baggage check at Tokyo Station,” something like that.’

  ‘I’m not looking for any key.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. I’ll say something that will pique the killer’s curiosity. I bet eventually he’d show up and pretend not to know you and ask politely if you’re looking for a key. Or maybe he’d just go to the baggage check at Tokyo Station.’

  ‘Something that’ll interest him, huh?’

  ‘And if you ever meet someone like that, you’ll know that’s the person who killed me. Or at least they have something to do with it.’

  ‘That’s a pretty damn unclear message.’

  ‘Well, I’m not going to give the killer a message that’s easy to understand, am I?’

  ‘But hey.’ Lemon suddenly looks serious. ‘I’m not gonna die easy.’

  ‘No, I guess you won’t. And if you do, you’re stubborn enough to come back.’

  ‘You too, Tangerine. You and me, if we die, we’ll come back for sure.’

  ‘Like trees bearing fruit every year?’

  ‘We’ll both be back.’

  The Shinkansen sways gently as it begins to dip underground, signalling the approach to Ueno. The view out the window goes dark and the scene inside the train appears reflected in the glass. Lemon pulls a magazine from the pocket in the seat-back in front of him and begins to read.

  ‘Hey,’ Tangerine says almost immediately, ‘this isn’t the time to start pleasure reading.’

  ‘I’ve already said it a bunch of times. Thinking is your job. Leave the mochi sales to the mochi salesman, right?’

  ‘If I’m the mochi salesman, what’s that make you?’

  The train begins to slow. First there are lamps in the tunnel, then suddenly they’re in a brightly lit space. The platform appears. Tangerine stands up.

  ‘Toilet?’ Lemon asks.

  ‘Let’s go.’ Tangerine tries to push past his partner.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Lemon doesn’t understand what’s happening, but he sees the fearsome look on Tangerine’s face and stands up to go with him. ‘Are we getting off? Don’t you think taking the Shinkansen just one stop a bit extravagant?’

  The automatic door opens onto the gangway. No one else there. The platform glides by out the doors on the left-hand side.

  ‘Exactly.’

  Lemon furrows his brow quizzically.

  ‘Getting on the Shinkansen at Tokyo and getting off at Ueno is extravagant. You could just take a local train. But someone might be getting off after all.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Someone who stole a bag on the Shinkansen and wants to get away as soon as possible.’

  Lemon nods in dawning comprehension. ‘Oh, I get it.’ He steps closer to the door and taps the window with his finger. ‘If someone gets off at Ueno, that’s the thief.’

  ‘It’ll be easy to tell if the person is carrying our suitcase, but there’s a chance they stuffed it inside another bag. Still, it’d have to be a pretty big bag. Either way, anyone who gets off here is our prime suspect. If you see someone, go after them.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Who else am I talking to? Leave the mochi sales to the mochi salesman, right? You might never have sold mochi, or used your head for that matter, but I know you’ve chased down thieves.’

  The brakes sing as the train slows to an almost complete stop. Lemon stares at the platform, suddenly concerned. ‘What do I do if there’s more than one?’

  ‘Guess you’ll have to go after whoever looks more suspicious,’ Tangerine says curtly.

  ‘What if there’s more than one person who looks suspicious? These days everybody looks suspicious, dammit.’

  The train stops and the door opens. Tangerine steps onto the platform with Lemon close behind. They stand just outside the train, peering down the length of it to see if anyone is getting off. It’s a straight shot all the way down the platform, as long as they pay close attention it should be easy enough to tell if someone is exiting the train. Lemon and Tangerine both have sharp eyes. If something’s moving, even if it’s far away, they’ll notice.

  No one gets off.

  They do see a guy two or three cars up standing right in front of the door to car five or six and pointing inside, someone they don’t recognise, wearing a flat cap, but other than that there’s nothing particularly noteworthy.

  The train stretches into the distance, and Tangerine realises he can’t see all the way to the end after all. ‘It’s hard to tell what’s going on at the front,’ he grumbles.

  ‘I doubt the thief is in any of those cars. Everything past car eleven is the Komachi, headed for Akita. We’re in the Hayate. The Komachi is connected to our train for now, but there’s no passing between the two.’

  ‘Well, that’s confusing. Trains can be a pain in the ass.’

  ‘Hey, Tangerine, it’s not nice to say something’s a pain in the ass.’

  Music sounds on the platform, signalling the train’s departure. A handful of people get on, but no one gets off. What do we do? asks Lemon. Nothing we can do, says Tangerine, but get back on the train.

  No sooner do they get back on than the Shinkansen starts to move, up the gradual slope, making for the light of day. A tinkling version of the departure music plays inside the train as well. Lemon whistles along as he returns to his seat, but his mood darkens as soon as he sees Little Minegishi propped up against the window. It’s like suddenly being reminded of an unpleasant task that needs to be taken care of, which makes sense, because this whole thing needs to be taken care of, and it’s most certainly unpleasant.

  ‘Well, here we are again.’ Lemon sits back down in the aisle seat and crosses his legs. ‘What do we do now?’ His reliance on the mochi salesman is like an article of faith.

  ‘Chances are the thief is still on the train.’

  ‘Do I have any bullets left?’ Lemon pulls his gun out of the shoulder holster concealed under his jacket. He had used a lot of ammo rescuing the rich kid. ‘Only got one clip.’

  Tangerine checks his piece too. ‘Same here. Almost out. I didn’t think I’d need any for the train. Should have known better.’ Then he reaches into a pocket and pulls out a different gun. ‘I do have this,’ he says somewhat sheepishly.

  ‘Where’d you get that?’

  ‘One of the guys holding the kid had it. I thought it was cute so I took it.’

  ‘Cute? Guns aren’t cute. It’s not like they have Thomas stickers on them. Thomas and Friends is for kids. Cute stuff and gun stuff are totally separate.’

  ‘No, not that kind of cute,’ Tangerine says with a smirk. ‘It’s rigged. It won’t shoot bullets. Look.’ He turns the muzzle towards Lemon, who jerks his face away.

  ‘Hey, watch it. That’s dangerous.’

  ‘No, I’m telling you, this thing won’t shoot. It looks like a normal gun but the barrel’s stopped up. It’s an exploding gun.’

  ‘It shoots explos
ives?’ The thought of explosions reminds Lemon about a movie he saw a while back, Runaway Train. The movie didn’t particularly interest him, but he liked watching the trains and locomotives in it. That got him excited – the sound of the wheels clacking, the movement of the rods, the muscular plume of smoke billowing from the smokestack, the screech of the rails, and most of all the overwhelming force of the steel train barrelling along. He doesn’t remember the plot of Runaway Train, but he can still picture the main character standing bravely on top of a train raging through a snowscape. That guy must have loved trains too.

  ‘No, no, if you try to shoot it, it explodes.’

  ‘Why would you need something like that?’

  ‘It’s a trap. The guy who had it really looked like he wanted me to take it off him. Which I did, but if I’d pulled the trigger, bang, it would’ve gone off in my hand and he’d have had the last laugh.’

  ‘Good thing you noticed. How come you’re so careful?’

  ‘I’m not careful, you’re just careless. If there’s a button you push it, if there’s a string dangling you pull it. You get a mysterious envelope in the mail and you open it and are infected with anthrax.’

  ‘If you say so.’ Lemon unfolds his legs and stands up, looks down at Tangerine. ‘I’ll go and have a look,’ he says, gesturing towards the front of the train with his chin, ‘see if there’s anyone suspicious-looking. Whoever has our bag must be here somewhere. We’ve got some time before we get to Omiya.’

  ‘Whoever has it might have hidden it somewhere and is sitting there trying to be casual. Anyone who looks funny, check them out.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘But don’t look like you’re trying to check them out. We don’t want to cause a scene. Nice and easy, understand?’

  ‘You’re a pain in my ass.’

  ‘I hear it’s not nice to call someone a pain in the ass,’ Tangerine shoots back. ‘Get moving. If we don’t find it by the time the train gets to Omiya, there’ll be trouble.’

  ‘Really?’

  Tangerine looks exasperated. How can he forget stuff like this? ‘One of Minegishi’s men is waiting for us, remember?’