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

billion. If each paid a hundred million it would be six billion. That money could then be sorted under this ‘Deposits Payable.’ On the books, you’d see no problem whatsoever. Combine all these methods I’ve just mentioned, and coming up with ten billion or so is a breeze.”

As Handa listened, he was once again impressed by the finance man’s accounting savvy. Though perhaps he was more impressed with the sloppy accounting of large corporations.

“So, Handa-san. How much do you want to take? We should discuss that first.”

“That’s a tough question . . . How about two billion to start?”

“That’s all?” Koh looked up with dismay.

“Listen, Koh-san. We’re talking about a crime. The money we get will be paid in cash or gold. That’s the iron rule for not getting caught.”

“What century do you think this is?” Koh said, looking dumbfounded again. “Transferring money is no big deal if they use one of their overseas subsidiaries and pay in dollars. Nowadays, everyone dealing in illegal transfers uses that trick.”

“No—it’s gotta be cash. Think of Monoi-san, and Nunokawa, and Yo-chan. How are they supposed to use dollars deposited in some offshore bank account?”

Hearing this, Koh deferred immediately, as if his practicality had been called into question. “You’re right.”

“Now, if it’s cash, there is a physical limit to how much we can carry. Those things you guys use—duralumin cases. How many stacks of ten million can one of those hold?” Handa asked.

“Twenty-one. You’re right, it’ll weigh quite a bit.”

“Then why don’t we say two billion for now?” Handa threw out the same number.

Koh replied, “Sure,” but he seemed to have little interest in the actual amount, instead moving on to the next subject. “More importantly, what’s the bargaining chip we’ll use to make them pay?”

“Bargaining chip? Of course we’ll go right for the jugular. We’ll take their beer sales hostage.”

“That sounds good.” A smile flickered over Koh’s face for the first time and, without looking up, he continued to spoon up the curry rice he had sloshed around on the plate. “If we can reduce their sales, Hinode won’t stand a chance—they’ll pony up two billion without any questions. In fact, I’d bet on it,” Koh said with his mouth full of rice.

“Lowering beer sales is a piece of cake. Isn’t that right, Koh-san?”

“There are vending machines all over Japan where anyone can buy beer. Add a little cyanide and that’s it—they’re finished.”

“Idiot. Who’s gonna use poison? I’m still a cop, you know?”

Koh guffawed, with grains of rice shooting out of his mouth. “Well then, doesn’t matter if it’s salt or sugar—the result will be the same.” He pushed aside his messy plate.

“That’s disgusting, wipe it off,” Handa said and threw a paper napkin at Koh, whose shoulders shook as he laughed, wiping away the bits of rice spilled on the table. “That pretty much suits your needs, right?”

Koh glanced up at him briefly, then immediately looked away as he replied brusquely, “Sure.” If their beer were to be contaminated with a foreign substance, Hinode’s stock price would plummet without a doubt, and the profit from margin trading would be all but guaranteed. But something in Koh’s eyes implied that this—a mere bonus to their main plan—should be something they agreed not to discuss.

Handa ordered two coffees from the waitress and brought the conversation back to its original topic. “Incidentally, with regard to the right moment to strike, you still think spring to summer is the window that’ll affect their sales the most?”

“I think so. The sales campaign will heat up in April. Hinode hasn’t released any new products this year, so they definitely will next spring. They’ll have an enormous budget to launch their advertising strategy, so it’s best for us to start when their shipments are in full swing. That should be late March.”

“All right. Then we’ll start at the end of March. Say, in terms of sales, how much would Hinode have to lose before they gave in?”

“If you mean how much loss they can withstand—even if an entire year’s worth of sales evaporated, with all their assets they still wouldn’t go under. But for senior management it’s a matter of responsibility, so I’m sure they’ll crack at a much lower number.”

“Well then, first I want you to evaluate Hinode’s break-even point.”

“It’s impossible to calculate accurately with just the numbers listed on the balance sheet. I can give you a rough estimate, though.”

“That’s fine. Next, you can get your hands on data that shows their average monthly shipping volume, right? From there, figure out where they break even for each month. How much loss would they suffer depending on how much shipping decreases, and at what point would Hinode’s management start to panic? I want you to create a simulation for those scenarios.”

“No sweat,” Koh replied succinctly.

The coffee that was brought over tasted awful as usual, as if it had been boiled down. Handa drank this same coffee practically every other day, paying 350 yen each time and sitting in the same slightly dirty chair. As he sipped the coffee, another self-deprecating thought started to spin inside his mind.

He had made a ritual of drinking every last drop of this incredibly nasty stuff. At some point, this very ritual had created the mentality of a hardened cop who no longer even recognized this coffee as awful. And here he was drinking it again today. Maybe I don’t hate the taste of it after all, he thought to himself. His thirteen years on the police force, where he had been able to nurture his fantasies over a single cup of coffee per day—maybe they hadn’t been so bad. And yet, his masochistic tendency had reached the point where he was now trying to destroy all of that by his own hand, and the truth was that he could no longer control it.

Handa contemplated this calmly. He was like an octopus devouring its own leg. If he allowed himself to demolish his career at the police department—a hotbed for his fantasies and