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

turn took off in a trot toward Kurata at the very end of the line and whispered to him.

Shiroyama’s and Kurata’s eyes met. Kurata excused himself to those near him and, once he had reached Shiroyama at the front of the line, he said, “Managing Director Yamashita from Toei Bank passed away just a while ago.”

He did not whisper the words, so the people around them heard as well, and a stir rose at once. Yamashita’s death being what it was, those who did business with Toei must have quickly considered sending telegrams and making condolence calls. Shiroayama, on the other hand, had perceived the flash of some sort of sign in Kurata’s grim stare.

He understood that something was amiss, and for the moment he excused himself from the presidents of the distributors and Sato Transport. Kurata and Fujii followed him. Once they reached the cedar grove, Kurata came up beside him and said quietly, “Apparently someone shot him in front of his home in Den-en-chofu.”

Shot him? Shiroyama wanted to ask, but he found himself speechless.

“I’ve had general affairs confirm with the police a number of times—there’s no mistake. I’ve got the director of general affairs going to the hospital right away.”

As Shiroyama listened to Kurata speak in a tone rigid with feigned calmness, he finally regained his own voice. “What about Terada-san?” he asked.

“He’s at the main office,” Kurata replied.

Terada was the president of Toei, and as the largest shareholder he was also a member of Hinode’s board of directors. Shiroyama tried to picture him at the Toei head office just then.

“Which of our executives are still in Tokyo? Call one of them up, and tell him to act as point person with Toei. If possible, tell him to go to the Toei head office first.”

“I’ll ask Sugihara,” Kurata said and immediately took out his personal cell phone.

Shirai, who must have just finished the eighth hole, came running through the grove carrying the wood he was about to use for the next hole. His brows were furrowed with irritation as he asked them, “How should we proceed?”

“How many teams are left of the Ins?” Shiroyama asked.

“Two or three, I think.”

“Let’s just finish the front nine. After that, let’s gather the board members together before lunch . . .”

“Right,” Shirai said to himself and walked back the way he came.

Kurata, who had finished his call, asked, “Should I reserve a separate room?”

“Yes, please.” Shiroyama turned to Kurata and Fujii and urged them, “Now, let’s all get back to the game.”

Just then, someone else called his name and stopped Shiroyama in his tracks. It was Chairman Keizo Suzuki, who should have finished the front nine by this time and been on his way back to the clubhouse, but was now walking briskly through the grove toward him. Sixty-five years of age, Suzuki was slightly out of breath as he whispered the words, “It’s the Seiwakai,” referring to the crime syndicate.

Shiroyama gave him a vague nod, unable to respond otherwise.

“Please consider security measures for all of our executives immediately. I’m counting on you,” Suzuki said.

“Yes,” Shiroyama said and nodded again.

“In a situation like this, we must spare no expense.”

“I agree.”

During his tenure as president, Suzuki himself had been the one with connections to various characters including Tomoharu Okada, head of the Okada Association; Zenzo Tamaru, their advisor; and Taiichi Sakata of the LDP, among other elected representatives. It was true that he had inherited many of these relationships from his predecessors, and he had left it to Kurata to do the actual dirty work, yet there were still a considerable number of murky issues that only Suzuki knew about. Shirai had questioned Suzuki about these, and had then scrupulously formed a majority opinion on the item at the board meeting so that, during the change in management four years ago, Suzuki was somewhat reluctantly relegated to the position of chairman, and held no representative rights.

Like Kurata, Suzuki did not dare divulge the specifics, but there was no doubt that in his dealings with the Okada Association, he had more than once been in contact with the Seiwakai, who controlled them. Shiroyama felt both frustrated and anxious when he saw the dismal and reticent look on Suzuki’s face. There was no way to feel at ease about the situation.

It was bound to happen in the end—after the collapse of their longstanding, codependent relationship with the hyenas that survived off the scraps of inter-corporate dealings, those hyenas would start attacking the corporations directly. Until just recently the financial institutions had continued to make loans to just about anyone, but three years ago, they had all at once changed course with the economic recession, and now there were a considerable number of corporations among their beleaguered customers who were entangled with crime syndicates. It was all well and good while the money was flowing, Shiroyama thought calmly, but today’s incident demonstrated what happened when the money ran out and fangs were bared—a bank had been forced to pay the price with someone’s life.

Hinode’s situation was no exception—in fact, one could even say it was more complicated. The money that Hinode funneled to Okada-affiliated extortionists and political organizations via management consultant companies used to amount to about ninety million a year. This was a large amount for one company to expend, but above all, it was a clear violation of the Commercial Code. The year before last, when they had made the decision to settle accounts with Okada, the National Police Agency had continued to press the four major economic organizations for their cooperation in eradicating corporate extortionists and was pursuing an aggressive policy of exposing each corporation that had violated the Commercial Code. Both Hinode and Okada had sensed a crisis, and both parties—having determined that the damage incurred from exposure would be great—tentatively moved forward with the dissolution of their relationship, but in reality what they had was a truce, with both parties refusing to let the other’s vulnerability out of their clutches. Okada