Chinatown - Part 4 - Mr. X
Ruby called me on Monday and told me to stay by the phone. It rang again a few hours later. The man on the line was Mr. X himself, who asked me to meet him at his apartment down near Gramercy Park. He knew I was looking for him, he said, and had as much desire to speak with me as I to him. I tried to get him to meet in an open area, but he was absolutely resistant. He assured me that no harm would come to me and that he just wanted to talk, but that it had to be absolutely secure and private.
I suited up with a concealed gun and a few conveniently placed knives, then called a couple of friends to let them know where to find my corpse in case they didn’t hear from me over the next few weeks. I took a cab down to the address he had given me near Gramercy Park. Mr. X – who we will now call Mr. Tanaka, as per the alias he gave to the escort service – lives in a very large high-rise building that clearly costs a fortune.
A million thoughts were racing through my mind as the elevator ascended to the 32nd floor. Would I be greeted with a team of women similar to the one who had decided to remove a chunk of my arm the other night? Was I about to step into a situation straight out of a Hong Kong kung fu flick? I had a sneaking suspicion that Tanaka’s wife would turn out to be the attacker from Natalie’s apartment.
I was wrong on all accounts. The door was indeed opened by Tanaka’s wife, but she was the complete opposite of the woman that had attacked me. She was probably in her 50’s, short, with a rounded body and face, and graying black hair pulled tightly back into a bun.
“I’m here to see Mr. Tanaka,” I told her.
“We’ve been expecting you,” she said with a grandmotherly expression of kindness covering her face. “Come in!” Huh. No ninja assassins just yet, but perhaps it was all a ruse to lower my guard. I kept my hand within gun-grabbing reach.
The apartment was enormous and modern in design. We entered the living room, which centered around a small rectangular pool in which brilliantly colored goldfish were swimming. Several expensive-looking black leather couches surrounded it. The walls were white and lined with antique bookshelves filled with books that looked centuries old. A pleasing combination of old and new.
Tanaka was seated on one couch reading a book, and he stood up to greet me. He was an older man, also in his 50’s, with graying hair slicked backwards. His face was a map of wrinkles, but his body looked quite fit and strong. He was dressed in a perfectly-pressed business suit.
“Welcome,” he said, shaking my hand. “Please sit down.”
I was still on edge, which was probably very obvious to him. “Do not be afraid,” he continued. He called to his wife, and asked if I wanted tea or coffee, both of which I turned down. He then asked his wife to leave, and closed the doors. He took a seat across from me.
“I think I know your type,” he said without any animosity. “You won’t tell me anything. You expect me to tell you everything, but every attempt I make to get answers from you will result in failure.”
I shrugged. “That’s the nature of my profession.”
“Save your questions then. Let me do some talking, and if you have any questions after, feel free to ask them. I wish to hire you.” Suddenly, my brain desperately wanted to ask a million question, but my mouth stayed shut.
“I will be perfectly honest with you, Mr. Dick. I have been hiring women to perform sexual services for about as long as I have been a businessman. I’ve been married for just as long. It’s very common in my world, and I would be hard-pressed to think of a single colleague who has not engaged in this type of behavior at one time or other.
“I met Natalie sometime ago and fell in love with her instantly. Not in the serious sense, but in the carefree, casual way. She was beautiful, was comfortable with what I liked in bed, and had a great personality for those awkward conversations before and after. I requested her again and again, and we became familiar with each other. She was my favorite, and I rented out an apartment in Chinatown for us to meet at – which I am told you also know about.
“Then I made the mistake of divulging factual information about myself and my livelihood. It was a stupid error that should have never happened, but I thought nothing of it at the time. I described to her my business, the history of my life, my financial status and power. I thought there was an unsaid agreement between the two of us, but apparently, there was not. She announced to me last Friday that she had secretly filmed one of our sessions together, and wanted a substantial amount of money to keep it quiet and not tell my wife. A substantial amount, Mr. Dick. The tape was quite explicit.
“Her intention was to blackmail me without end. I know where that road leads, and I sized her threat up in my mind. Ultimately, it seemed baseless. If I refused to pay, she would gain nothing personally from telling my wife, and would most likely lose her job and any trustworthy reputation. I offered her a single payment in return for the tape, but she turned it down. She wanted monthly payments, and would settle on no less. I tested her. I blew up in her face. Screamed threats at her, and threw her out of the apartment. All was without substance, but it seemed to work. She left, and I have not heard from her since, nor has my wife. I also terminated my lease on the apartment and had it cleaned out.
“It perhaps hadn’t occurred to Natalie or myself at the time, but she had far more bargaining power than she realized. I began remembering the conversations we’d had, in which I had gone into detail about competitors – and I suspect she has by now remembered them as well. I am now aware that it is in my interest to retrieve that video at any cost. The revelation could very much harm my reputation.
“I realize that you are already searching for Natalie under the employment of another client. I would like to employ you for a related task – to find the video for me. Now – do you have any questions”
Two paychecks for the same case. Not too shabby, but then again, I wasn’t about to work for a guy whose hired goon tried to kill me.
“Have you been to Natalie’s apartment since Friday?” I asked.
“No. I do not even know where she lives,” he replied calmly.
“But you could find out.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You already seem to know some information I didn’t think anyone had access to.”
“Yes, I could easily learn where Natalie lives, but I have no desire to – wait.” He paused, then: “Has someone been to her apartment?”
“Remember that rule about trying to get information out of me,” I said. “Let’s just say that if I learn you had any connection to what happened to me this weekend, I have no qualms in making many, many different parties aware of it.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, and his voice sounded innocent enough.
“Who do you suspect she might have gone to with the video?”
“It is possible that she may have gone to a man who not only works at a rival company, but whom I would consider to be a rival to me personally. This man and I have met in the past in some bad clashes. His name is Saito.”
“Address? Phone?”
Tanaka laughed. “If I told you any such identifying information, he would be aware of your attempts to use it to get to him immediately. He is a very powerful man, perhaps moreso than myself, and I’m going to have to leave it to you to devise a backdoor method of learning more about him.”
“You could really save me a lot of trouble.”
“Sorry. It’s for your own protection. Simply continue in your investigation, and see if his name comes up. If not, ignore it. His is the only name I mentioned personally. I may have mentioned businesses, but Natalie would have to literally walk into the reception desk to get anywhere with the video. And such business do not typically deal with whores.”
I took the case. Hell, I’m working the case to begin with – why not get another paycheck off of it? And if it turns out Tanaka was behind Natalie’s disappearance or the attack at her apartment, I’ll make good on my threat. When people take swings at me, I like to return the favor.
I got back to my office in the evening to find a brief voicemail message from the man from the martial arts supply store. It was simply a date, time, and location. The location I’ll have to keep quiet, but the date is Wednesday, September 22nd, and the time is 1:00PM.
Apparently, that’s my appointment with a man who makes very, very dangerous weapons.
I suited up with a concealed gun and a few conveniently placed knives, then called a couple of friends to let them know where to find my corpse in case they didn’t hear from me over the next few weeks. I took a cab down to the address he had given me near Gramercy Park. Mr. X – who we will now call Mr. Tanaka, as per the alias he gave to the escort service – lives in a very large high-rise building that clearly costs a fortune.
A million thoughts were racing through my mind as the elevator ascended to the 32nd floor. Would I be greeted with a team of women similar to the one who had decided to remove a chunk of my arm the other night? Was I about to step into a situation straight out of a Hong Kong kung fu flick? I had a sneaking suspicion that Tanaka’s wife would turn out to be the attacker from Natalie’s apartment.
I was wrong on all accounts. The door was indeed opened by Tanaka’s wife, but she was the complete opposite of the woman that had attacked me. She was probably in her 50’s, short, with a rounded body and face, and graying black hair pulled tightly back into a bun.
“I’m here to see Mr. Tanaka,” I told her.
“We’ve been expecting you,” she said with a grandmotherly expression of kindness covering her face. “Come in!” Huh. No ninja assassins just yet, but perhaps it was all a ruse to lower my guard. I kept my hand within gun-grabbing reach.
The apartment was enormous and modern in design. We entered the living room, which centered around a small rectangular pool in which brilliantly colored goldfish were swimming. Several expensive-looking black leather couches surrounded it. The walls were white and lined with antique bookshelves filled with books that looked centuries old. A pleasing combination of old and new.
Tanaka was seated on one couch reading a book, and he stood up to greet me. He was an older man, also in his 50’s, with graying hair slicked backwards. His face was a map of wrinkles, but his body looked quite fit and strong. He was dressed in a perfectly-pressed business suit.
“Welcome,” he said, shaking my hand. “Please sit down.”
I was still on edge, which was probably very obvious to him. “Do not be afraid,” he continued. He called to his wife, and asked if I wanted tea or coffee, both of which I turned down. He then asked his wife to leave, and closed the doors. He took a seat across from me.
“I think I know your type,” he said without any animosity. “You won’t tell me anything. You expect me to tell you everything, but every attempt I make to get answers from you will result in failure.”
I shrugged. “That’s the nature of my profession.”
“Save your questions then. Let me do some talking, and if you have any questions after, feel free to ask them. I wish to hire you.” Suddenly, my brain desperately wanted to ask a million question, but my mouth stayed shut.
“I will be perfectly honest with you, Mr. Dick. I have been hiring women to perform sexual services for about as long as I have been a businessman. I’ve been married for just as long. It’s very common in my world, and I would be hard-pressed to think of a single colleague who has not engaged in this type of behavior at one time or other.
“I met Natalie sometime ago and fell in love with her instantly. Not in the serious sense, but in the carefree, casual way. She was beautiful, was comfortable with what I liked in bed, and had a great personality for those awkward conversations before and after. I requested her again and again, and we became familiar with each other. She was my favorite, and I rented out an apartment in Chinatown for us to meet at – which I am told you also know about.
“Then I made the mistake of divulging factual information about myself and my livelihood. It was a stupid error that should have never happened, but I thought nothing of it at the time. I described to her my business, the history of my life, my financial status and power. I thought there was an unsaid agreement between the two of us, but apparently, there was not. She announced to me last Friday that she had secretly filmed one of our sessions together, and wanted a substantial amount of money to keep it quiet and not tell my wife. A substantial amount, Mr. Dick. The tape was quite explicit.
“Her intention was to blackmail me without end. I know where that road leads, and I sized her threat up in my mind. Ultimately, it seemed baseless. If I refused to pay, she would gain nothing personally from telling my wife, and would most likely lose her job and any trustworthy reputation. I offered her a single payment in return for the tape, but she turned it down. She wanted monthly payments, and would settle on no less. I tested her. I blew up in her face. Screamed threats at her, and threw her out of the apartment. All was without substance, but it seemed to work. She left, and I have not heard from her since, nor has my wife. I also terminated my lease on the apartment and had it cleaned out.
“It perhaps hadn’t occurred to Natalie or myself at the time, but she had far more bargaining power than she realized. I began remembering the conversations we’d had, in which I had gone into detail about competitors – and I suspect she has by now remembered them as well. I am now aware that it is in my interest to retrieve that video at any cost. The revelation could very much harm my reputation.
“I realize that you are already searching for Natalie under the employment of another client. I would like to employ you for a related task – to find the video for me. Now – do you have any questions”
Two paychecks for the same case. Not too shabby, but then again, I wasn’t about to work for a guy whose hired goon tried to kill me.
“Have you been to Natalie’s apartment since Friday?” I asked.
“No. I do not even know where she lives,” he replied calmly.
“But you could find out.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You already seem to know some information I didn’t think anyone had access to.”
“Yes, I could easily learn where Natalie lives, but I have no desire to – wait.” He paused, then: “Has someone been to her apartment?”
“Remember that rule about trying to get information out of me,” I said. “Let’s just say that if I learn you had any connection to what happened to me this weekend, I have no qualms in making many, many different parties aware of it.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, and his voice sounded innocent enough.
“Who do you suspect she might have gone to with the video?”
“It is possible that she may have gone to a man who not only works at a rival company, but whom I would consider to be a rival to me personally. This man and I have met in the past in some bad clashes. His name is Saito.”
“Address? Phone?”
Tanaka laughed. “If I told you any such identifying information, he would be aware of your attempts to use it to get to him immediately. He is a very powerful man, perhaps moreso than myself, and I’m going to have to leave it to you to devise a backdoor method of learning more about him.”
“You could really save me a lot of trouble.”
“Sorry. It’s for your own protection. Simply continue in your investigation, and see if his name comes up. If not, ignore it. His is the only name I mentioned personally. I may have mentioned businesses, but Natalie would have to literally walk into the reception desk to get anywhere with the video. And such business do not typically deal with whores.”
I took the case. Hell, I’m working the case to begin with – why not get another paycheck off of it? And if it turns out Tanaka was behind Natalie’s disappearance or the attack at her apartment, I’ll make good on my threat. When people take swings at me, I like to return the favor.
I got back to my office in the evening to find a brief voicemail message from the man from the martial arts supply store. It was simply a date, time, and location. The location I’ll have to keep quiet, but the date is Wednesday, September 22nd, and the time is 1:00PM.
Apparently, that’s my appointment with a man who makes very, very dangerous weapons.
posted by Private Dick at 8:37 PM
15 Comments:
PD - be careful at this upcoming appointment - if these throwing-stars are rare and hand crafted.. then this dealer may have contacted the owner of these stars and let on that you were looking for them...
jenniko
i don't know, pd, the japanese culture is sooo totally different than ours. i think you need to look at the wife some more, she might "protect" her husband and his reputation by getting rid of the threat.
anybody want to place bets on how wrong i am?
can't wait for next installment!
feenxc
For a guy who's living in Japan (been here for 7 years), the whole ninja-chick with the throwing stars leaping out a window, etc. seems WAY too "Kill Bill"...in other words, BALONEY.
BUT, for Japanese businessmen playing around with prostitutes on the side, it IS the real deal. Japan is pretty much full of every considerable flavor of prostitution (regular, child, transvestite, etc.)
There is a trend of Japanese women going to the States (LA & NY), turn to upper-class prostitution for some easy cash & pick up a rich "boyfriend"...no big deal apparently.
Oh the immorality... ;)
The plot thickens... Watch your ass, Dicky boy. I've got no clue about this one.
Dick,
I got a question I wish you could clarify...Who, exactly, "redecorated" the apartment? I would assume it isn't customary for landlords to fork out the dough to improve such a dump, much less paint over that star thingy weapon you found...so who paid to have it cleaned up and why???? Did Mr. Tanaka? I think we need to know if the landlord of Mr. Tanaka did it. If neither of them did it, the landlord should at least have some idea of who the contractor was who came in to do the work, which could lead you to who hired the contractor, which could lead you to Natalie...or her accomplices....I'm just sayin....
RD:
It looks like Mr. X cleaned up the appartment given this quote:
" I also terminated my lease on the apartment and had it cleaned out." Last line, 17th paragraph from the top.
Correct, Charles, but I think RD was actually asking why Mr. X/Tanaka would even bother to clean out the entire apartment so thoroughly (including painting the walls) unless there was a definite reason to do so. Also, at some point, the throwing star made its way into the wall, either with or without Tanaka knowing. Ultimately, it leads to the question of just what the hell went on in that apartment. I know more as of today though, and will update soon.
Thanks for pointing that out to me...Sometimes I have reader's block.
Yes, Private Dick, I want to know why Mr. Tanaka went to so much trouble to clean up and paint a dump that he used merely for his sexual trysts....
Ahh, that's a good point. Presumably, something did happen there. Or perhaps he just wanted to make sure that nothing incriminating was left there, in regards to his sexual trysts. I guess, if I were vacating an apartment I had used primarily for sex, I'd probably have it cleaned to. But I'm slightly OCD, so you can't go by me :)
Hey PD, I sent you an email...Did you get it???
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Once again, thank you, hope you don't mind if I visit again sometime :-)
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