Lady Joker, Volume 1 by Kaoru Takamura (lightest ebook reader .txt) 📕

so on, circulating into obscurity. The source of the capital Kimihiro Arai had used to buy up shares of Ogura Transport came via G.S.C., and Takuji Yasui—of the former Ezaki group, the same Yasui whom Negoro had been looking for that very night—had also once been an executive at a non-bank affiliated with G.S.C. Finance. In sum, the Okada Association kept up appearances while G.S.C. kept the money flowing—parallel wheels of the machinery running this shadow economy.

Even if Okabe was only joking about a connection with Takeshi Kikuchi’s company, GSC Ltd., Negoro could do no more than stammer a vague reply as Okabe took the arriving bowl of ramen in his hands, exclaiming, “Oh, looks great.” He must have been pretty hungry, for he wasted no time pulling a set of disposable chopsticks from the stand on the table, splitting them apart, and digging in. He fell silent as he ate.

Negoro watched Okabe slurp his noodles, his face tilted downward, and noticed that one of his front teeth was chipped. It was none of his business, but Negoro couldn’t help wondering whether it was that Okabe did not have the time or the money to fix it. And yet, considering his own appearance, Negoro knew that though his teeth were all intact, his head of greying hair resembled a hedgehog, and his suit, shoes, and watch all paled in comparison to Okabe’s. Negoro ruminated that the only thing the two of them had in common as they slurped ramen together was a certain indifference.

Once Okabe’s hunger had been tended to, his mind seemed to start working again, and he picked up the conversation, continuing to eat noisily.

“By the way,” he said, “there’s an investor group that’s rumored to be affiliated with that G.S.C. They also deal in stock index futures. We’re not the company that’s been commissioned, but I hear orders come in every day over the phone. Their margin is fifty or sixty million yen, which makes them quite the player, as far as private investors go.”

“Is that so . . . So some yakuza with capital have decided to embark upon legal alchemy to make the big money, huh?”

“As long as you’re willing to take risks, it’s a game that offers easy profit. Perfect for a yakuza.”

Negoro looked up at the sound of the door sliding open. The same two men were in the doorway again—this time they fixed their gaze for three seconds on the interior of the shop where Negoro was sitting. The men had on duster coats, and peeking from beneath their collars were shirts in colors never worn by typical salarymen, coordinated with flashy neckties. Negoro confirmed to himself that he did not recognize their faces before looking away, and the sliding door closed again. Okabe, with his back to the door, was oblivious. Having already finished his bowl of ramen, he had set it down on the table and now had a toothpick in his mouth.

“So then, Negoro-san, what should I do about Hinode Beer’s stock?” he asked.

“If I knew the answer, I’d be buying too,” Negoro replied.

“But with the president released unharmed, doesn’t that imply some kind of vulnerability on Hinode’s part, and that there was a backroom deal with the criminals? Their share price could be affected, depending on how things develop.”

As Negoro listened to Okabe’s frank assessment, it suddenly occurred to him, He’s exactly right.

While no one could predict what would happen with the case, the kidnappers at least knew precisely when and how those developments would break, and what kind of outcomes they would bring about. Were the perpetrators operating on their own and demanding a mere six hundred million, the scenario Okabe proposed was unlikely, but if a more substantial organization were behind them, and if that organization was equipped with sufficient intellect and financial resources, what would be their move? If someone could control the direction of the case, knowing specifically when Hinode’s stock would plummet, they could only have one thing in mind . . .

“Say, Okabe-san. Would you mind keeping an eye on any margin trading with Hinode stock, and I’ll keep you posted about any new information that comes in?”

“Really? You’ve got a lead on something that might make the price fluctuate?”

“I don’t know about that. But there might be someone in the shadows who’s short-selling, in anticipation that the price will drop.”

“I knew I smelled smoke. You develop a sixth sense when you inhabit this world.” Okabe grinned, revealing a satisfaction with his keen nose, but also a shrewdness, as though his mind had started churning as well.

“Please keep this between us,” Negoro reminded him.

After he and Okabe left the ramen shop and he sent Okabe off with a prepaid taxi voucher, Negoro stood for a moment on the sidewalk beneath the overpass. There had been something off about the two strange men who had peered inside while they were eating ramen, and it pricked at his senses persistently. He felt as if their presence still lingered, and Negoro turned around to check the empty street behind him.

He then looked down at his own feet, knowing that they wouldn’t carry him fast enough to escape anyway, and with an ambiguous resignation, he started walking toward a phone booth a mere ten steps ahead of him.

Inside the booth, first Negoro called the Metro section and informed them that he was in Shimbashi now and would be back in half an hour. Next he called the Metro section of their Osaka bureau and asked for the home telephone number of the slot editor who had worked on today’s evening edition. He then punched in the number, which started with “06.”

The call was answered right away and he heard the screaming laughter of children—You’re so dumb! Stupid! You dope!—and after a female voice came on and apologized, Negoro asked for the slot editor and, while he waited for him to come on the phone, he listened to the jumble of sounds—the woman calling to her