The Informer Page 2

  Ogushi emptied his glass in one gulp and said, “Anyway, I gave Mr. Sakai a ring today. It seems that nobody’s got the job yet, and once I told him about you, he said he wanted to meet you. He’d like you to go to his office tomorrow, if possible. Can you make it?”

  “Yes.”

  Ogushi pulled two of his cards from his wallet. He scribbled a reference note on one and drew a simple map on the back of the other, together with the address and phone number of Shinwa Trading Company.

  “Thank you very much,” Segawa said sincerely.

  “You don’t have to thank me,” Ogushi laughed. “When you make a success of this, you can take Miss Yamaguchi and me to dinner. You’ll probably finish up earning more money than I do . . . Well, you must excuse me, I have to go—I have some business to attend to.” He made a gesture of stacking mahjong tiles. “By the way, how about us old school-mates going over to Ogino’s place one day for a game of mahjong?”

  This was a casual remark, and Segawa knew there was no malice in it, but the words cut him to the quick.

  Shoichi Ogino was the last person he wanted to remember.

  After Ogushi left them, Segawa and Kazumi had another mug of beer. Kazumi’s face turned a beautiful cherry blossom pink.

  “Mr. Segawa, would you like to go for a walk? I think I’m get­ting drunk.”

  “Where’d you like to go?”

  “I like Hibiya Park. It’s not too far from here.”

  Leaving the beer hall, the two walked towards the park. It was an unusually stuffy night for April. The park was full of young couples, and there was an air of romance about.

  They walked on without talking. Segawa was keenly con­scious of her perfume mixed with her body scent. Kazumi’s eyes avoided his—she seemed to be absorbed in studying the chang­ing colours of the big fountain. He recalled the day when he and Kazumi had touched each other for the first time. The memory of it was burnt indelibly on his mind.

  That was the day Shoichi Ogino and Eiko Murozaki got married. He and Kazumi had been invited to the wedding as representatives of their friends. He had prepared himself for it and yet, to say the words of congratulation was really painful. As the newly-weds were being sent off at Tokyo Station, he was conscious of a gaping hole inside him.

  He had asked Kazumi to have a drink with him. At that time he was still on top of the wave and didn’t have to worry about money. He could drink as much as he liked.

  Kazumi kept ordering all sorts of coloured cocktails, like a child. Red Bloody Mary, Green Mint Flip, Purple-Blue Moon, Yellow Sidecar, Pearl Gimlet—the colours of the fountain in Hibiya Park reminded him of those crazy cocktail colours.

  “You’re lonely, aren’t you?” Kazumi had asked him. Under the influence of the drinks she brought her face close to his and spoke very softly.

  “If I said I wasn’t, I’d be lying.”

  “I know how you feel.”

  “You know how I feel—what d’you mean by that? You don’t mean—no—you can’t mean you and Ogino—”

  “Whether I like him or not is beside the point, but he’s cer­tainly the right man to get married to.”

  “Well, I never! But isn’t this funny? We seem to be in the same boat.”

  Kazumi’s eyes had lit up defiantly all of a sudden.

  “Hey,” she had said, “just to cheer up, how about beating them to the punch?”

  “What d’you mean?”

  “You know very well what I mean. I’m a fickle creature from way back, and you needn’t worry—you won’t be under any ob­ligation. I’m not desperate, you know—just a bit lonely right now. The same as you are.”

  He could clearly remember it to this day. Kazumi showed great form, and he didn’t care whether her mood had anything to do with her rejected affections for Ogino. Until then he’d never suspected there was anything between them.

  The fountain turned from red to green. Segawa’s memory moved back further with each colour change.

  Eiko’s pale face appeared before him. Sometimes he had used this place for his dates with her. Both were still students when they kissed for the first time, and both were very shy. They trembled a little as their lips met, and their teeth made funny noises . . .

  “Mr. Segawa.”

  Kazumi’s voice brought him back to earth.

  “Yes?”

  “What are you dreaming about?”

  “No—nothing.”

  “You’ve been thinking of another woman.”

  Woman’s instinct, he thought.

  “Shigeo.” She called him by his first name. “Please stay with me tonight.”

  He examined her face with renewed interest. Her eyes were filled with anger, shining in the dark like the eyes of a cat.

  From the middle of the fountain a thick column of water rose strongly into the night sky.

  2

  Next day, getting out of the subway at Shinjuku Gardens station and finding the building he was looking for, Segawa felt a bit uncertain. The company was about half a block from the station, occupying part of a poorly built two-storey building with a stucco front.

  The size of the office didn’t matter, he told himself. When he’d started up in business with his friends, their office was worse than this.

  He went upstairs, walked along the squeaky passageway and knocked on a door with a tiny nameplate on it.

  “Come in,” a deep voice said.

  The whole office consisted of one large room. There were five or six desks in it, packed end to end, plus a set of armchairs and a coffee table in one corner. A man of about thirty-five was sitting in one of the chairs. He was looking at some papers handed to him one by one by an office girl of about twenty.

  Segawa felt this was the man he was looking for.

  “Excuse me. Are you Mr. Mikio Sakai? My name is Shigeo Segawa.”

  “Aah, Mr. Segawa? Mr. Ogushi told me you were coming. I’m Sakai—how d’you do.”

  The man stood up and bowed. His well-tanned face looked strong, with thick brows, sharp eyes and thin lips. He looked a bit like one of those detectives on television, or perhaps the villain himself.

  He read Ogushi’s note, then turned to Segawa again. “Let’s talk about this somewhere where we can have a cup of tea, shall we? Miss Nakashima will look after the office for a while.”

  He led the way out of the room, and they walked across the street to the nearby Café Midori.

  Smiling with his thin lips only, Sakai said, “I use this café as my reception room . . . You might be surprised our office looks so poor, but don’t let this worry you. We’ve very strong backing—there’s no chance of our going broke. It’s more likely we’ll be moving into new offices shortly . . . By the way, do you have your personal history and references with you?”

  “Yes.”

  Sakai went through the papers, nodding every now and then as he read.

  Then he said, “You know I’m just beginning to realise I’ve heard about you before this.” He smiled. “Yes, the name Segawa has been mentioned to me several times at the Kadoi Securities Corporation. You’re the one who was handling those showroom stocks, aren’t you? Well, I’m glad. I don’t think I need to look further. I never thought I could get a man of your ability.”

  Segawa turned red in the face. Not that he was embarrassed by the flattery. There was some truth in what Sakai had said. His name was fairly well known around one part of Kabutocho, and this was due at least in part to his leading bids on show­room stocks. But that was all past glory now.

  “Mr. Sakai, are you operating in a field that has some con­nection with the stock market?”

  “Well, yes, in a way, but only in the sense that I too have the nature of a gambler. Apart from that, I prefer to deal in commodities rather than stocks.” Sakai smiled broadly as he glanced through Segawa’s personal history
once more. “You say you ran your own business for a while after resigning from Kadoi?”

  “Yes, but it ended in failure.”

  “What sort of commodity did you handle?”

  “Air cleaners. They were made by a small manufacturer . . . We reckoned if we could sell them in quantity to cafés, tea houses, bars and the like, we’d do well out of them. But then a soft-drink manufacturer began to install air cleaners in cafés cost free as an advertising gimmick, and we knew we were through. This wasn’t a line we could expect to sell to private residents.”

  “Yes, an air cleaner isn’t an essential item for the home. It’s not like a television set or a fridge . . . You had some headaches, I’ll bet. But in a way, your efforts may not have been completely wasted. It was a valuable experience for you, don’t you think? Hearing about it has made me even keener to have you with us. In our business it could prove valuable . . .”

  Sakai lit a cigarette with a Ronson lighter.

  “. . . The reason why I was looking for a man with stockbro-kerage experience is that I need somebody with outstanding selling ability. Besides, most stock market operators have a keen nose for profit and are full of fight and gambling spirit—though this may be easy when you’ve the backing of a strong company. But if such a man gains the additional experience of running his own business and facing a lot of difficulties, then he must be really suited for the job I have in mind. To tell you the truth, I would’ve never considered a person who left one brokerage house and joined another, and is still working for it . . . Yes, after looking at it from every angle, I’m con­vinced you’re the right man for the job. I like you best of all the people I’ve interviewed so far.”

  Segawa thought the interview was going much more smoothly than he’d dared to hope.

  Of course, everything depended on Sakai’s own talent, really. But then, this was the very first time he’d ever met a person who could fully evaluate his true worth in a matter of minutes. The recognition of this made him feel good.

  “Mr. Segawa, to make things easier for me over the next few months, I wonder if you’d agree to an employer-employee rela­tionship for the time being? You must realise by now that what I’m really after is a reliable, trustworthy partner. But in the short term you might be prepared to look on a monthly salary of, say, 50,000 yen as an expression of goodwill and a genuine desire for future co-operation, though I’m not sure the sum I’ve mentioned is sufficient to welcome a person of your calibre.”

  Segawa managed to hold his tongue and not to say yes straight away.

  His self-confidence growing by the minute, he said, “I’m flat­tered, Mr. Sakai, but I wonder if you’d mind telling me a little more about the operation of Shinwa Trading Company before I accept?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I haven’t told you anything about it, have I?” Sakai’s face was set in a penitent smile. “Well, first I must ex­plain that to date our company has been acting like any other two-year old. We’ve been poking our finger into anything that looked nutritious. So you’ll find at present the company has the character of a general store, though the main line is a spe­cial industrial chemical used as an additive in food manufac­ture. It has a wide range of other uses as well. So far nobody in Japan has been able to produce a quality product, and it’s being imported from overseas.”

  “Am I going to be associated with the marketing of this chemical?”

  “No, for the time being I hope you’d look after the handling of an entirely new group of products. We’re going to market electric medical instruments for family use. The main line is an electric massaging machine—several models, ranging from a fairly simple utility model to a really expensive one. Our targets are company executives, golfers and the like. In your stock market days you must’ve been dealing with a lot of peo­ple who fit into this category. What I’d like you to do is make good use of your former contacts.”

  Segawa felt he’d find it more satisfying to look after the mar­keting of the chemical than the massaging machine, but he de­cided it’d be unwise to mention this. Being put in charge of an entirely new group of commodities could mean two things—the testing of his selling ability, and Sakai’s expression of trust in him.

  “Ah, yes, there’s another thing I meant to mention,” Sakai said. “There’s a certain way of obtaining imported golf gear very cheaply, and you could use this freely as a bait in selling the massaging machines.”

  “I understand—I’m looking forward to making good use of it.” With eyes shining, Segawa added, “Mr. Sakai, my mind is made up—I’m prepared to put myself in your hands.”

  Sakai brought forward a big hand and squeezed Segawa’s fin­gers. “I am the one who should say that,” he said warmly. “By the way, all members of the staff are young people. So I want to introduce you to them as my partner. This will clearly establish your position in the company from the start. Please remember this point. Naturally, you’ll never mention to them anything about your salary or any other arrangement between us.”

  This was a logical approach, and yet it made Segawa wonder if Sakai was going a bit too far—introducing him as his partner. Not that he felt there was any room for complaint. He was genuinely grateful for Sakai’s offer.

  “Yes, I understand,” he said. “Is there anything else?”

  “Yes, but not for now.” Sakai smiled meaningfully. “We’ll have many more things to discuss later on . . . I hope you’ll have no problem resigning from your present position?”

  “I’ll submit my resignation today.”

  “Good. I need you as soon as I can have you—I won’t say to­morrow, but as soon as you can manage. And once you’re with me, I’d like to pay you an engagement fee of 100,000 yen. I know it’s not very much—hope you won’t be offended . . .”

  Offended? This was a wonderful windfall, Segawa thought, a sense of well-being descending on him. Now he’d be able to get most of his things back from the pawnshop.

  “No, that’ll be all right,” he said with restraint.

  “There’s just one more thing,” Sakai said. “Do you have any special hobby, by any chance?”

  “Hobby? Well, once upon a time I used to say openly that making money was my hobby.” He laughed bitterly. “Apart from that, I play mahjong, and sometimes fool around with a camera—a very ordinary camera, I might add.”

  “You can handle a camera? That’s good.” Smiling, Sakai nar­rowed his eyes and changed his voice as if trying to imitate a Chinese person speaking in Japanese. “Camela is vely good . . . photoglaphy is vely good hobby, yes . . . ? vely nice . . .”

  The next twenty days went by very quickly.

  On the other hand, the selling couldn’t have gone more slowly. Of course, nobody could be expected to produce mira­cles in the first ten or twenty days . . . But Sakai had placed so much faith in him, and because of his high salary it was rather difficult to save face without producing at least some results.

  But even when you did your best, trying your hardest, there was no way of selling goods that were impossible to sell. The last time, selling the air cleaner, that had been terrible, but the electric massaging machine was even worse.

  . . . I wouldn’t feel comfortable with the darned thing. I’d feel like a mental patient getting electric shock treatment. I think I prefer a young masseuse, or a Turkish bath . . .

  . . . It appears to be a very ingenious machine, but it’s far too expensive . . .

  . . . If it cost half as much, I’d buy one just to please you . . .

  . . . If I used that thing, my wife and children would treat me like an old man . . .

  Wherever he went, the reaction was the same. Segawa cursed the man who invented the infernal thing. You couldn’t sell an article just because it was useful—you had to consider the psy­chology of the prospective buyer. Even a man selling life insur­ance or cosmetics would be in clover compared with him, he th
ought.

  By now Segawa was convinced there was no future in elec­tric massaging machines. He indirectly conveyed this to Sakai once, but got a very cool reception and was asked to try it some more, at least for the time being.

  Not that Sakai ever complained, or ever said a harsh word to him. Segawa was mystified by his attitude. He felt Sakai was quite entitled to express his dissatisfaction with a man who was being paid a salary of 50,000 yen a month.

  It was altogether impossible to find out what was in Sakai’s mind. “I want you to become my right arm”—a nice thing to say, but up to now he had told him absolutely nothing about the running of the company. Of course, it might be too soon to complain—he had only been there a month. Still, he couldn’t understand why Sakai had never provided an opportunity for the two of them to sit down together and discuss the business quietly and thoroughly.

  And when he thought of the very small scale of Shinwa Trading Company’s operations, he felt it wouldn’t be making much profit anyway. To a man of his business instincts it looked unreasonable to employ a salesman on a fixed monthly salary of 50,000 yen. But if an employee did receive that much money, at least he should have the responsibility of controlling the sales of the company’s main commodities, such as the in­dustrial chemicals Sakai was talking about.

  Furthermore, it was obvious to anybody with any business acumen at all that the sale of electric massaging machines was very limited in scope, to say the least. Under these circum­stances, how on earth could Sakai expect to make money out of a salesman on 50,000 yen a month? It was unthinkable he wouldn’t see the simple logic of this . . . Actually, Sakai was a much shrewder man than he’d let you believe—certainly a lot shrewder than the impression he had tried to give at the first interview. This was obvious from words he dropped here and there, and odd comments he made.

  No, he usually had a pretty sound reason for even the small­est of his moves, with often some startling purpose behind them. So he must also have a very good reason for employing him on such a high salary . . . When he thought about these things, he usually ended up in confusion after going over them time and time again.