mc.risingsun-第3部分

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king；　I'd　prefer　you　not　speak　again；　even　if　you　are　spoken　to　directly　by　them。　Okay？〃
　〃Okay。〃
　〃You　may　want　to　speak；　but　don't　be　drawn　out。〃
　〃I　understand。〃
　〃Furthermore；　whatever　I　do；　show　no　surprise。　Whatever　I　do。〃
　〃Okay。〃
　〃Once　I　take　over；　move　so　that　you're　standing　slightly　behind　me　and　to　my　right。　Never　sit。　Never　look　around。　Never　appear　distracted。　Remember　that　although　you　e　from　an　MTV　video　culture；　they　do　not。　They　are　Japanese。　Everything　you　do　will　have　meaning　to　them。　Every　aspect　of　your　appearance　and　behavior　will　reflect　on　you；　on　the　police　department；　and　on　me　as　your　superior　and　sempai。〃
　〃Okay；　Captain。〃
　〃Any　questions？〃
　〃What's　a　sempai？〃
　Connor　smiled。
　We　drove　past　the　searchlights；　down　the　ramp　into　the　underground　garage。
　〃In　Japan；〃　he　said；　〃a　sempai　is　a　senior　man　who　guides　a　junior　man；　known　as　a　kōhai。　The　sempai…kōhai　relationship　is　quite　mon。　It's　often　assumed　to　exist　whenever　a　younger　man　and　an　older　man　are　working　together。　They　will　probably　assume　it　of　us。〃
　I　said；　〃Sort　of　a　mentor　and　apprentice？〃
　〃Not　exactly；〃　Connor　said。　〃In　Japan；　sempai…kōhai　has　a　different　quality。　More　like　a　fond　parent：　the　sempai　is　expected　to　indulge　his　kōhai；　and　put　up　with　all　sorts　of　youthful　excesses　and　errors　from　the　junior　man。〃　He　smiled。　〃But　I'm　sure　you　won't　do　that　to　me。〃
　We　came　to　the　bottom　of　the　ramp；　and　saw　the　flat　expanse　of　the　parking　garage　ahead　of　us。　Connor　stared　out　the　window　and　frowned。　〃Where　is　everybody？〃
　The　garage　of　the　Nakamoto　Tower　was　full　of　limousines；　the　drivers　leaning　against　their　cars；　talking　and　smoking。　But　I　saw　no　police　cars。　Ordinarily；　when　there's　a　homicide；　the　place　is　lit　up　like　Christmas；　with　lights　flashing　from　a　half…dozen　black　and　whites；　the　medical　examiner；　paramedics；　and　all　the　rest。
　But　there　was　nothing　tonight。　It　just　looked　like　a　garage　where　somebody　was　having　a　party：　elegant　people　standing　in　clusters；　waiting　for　their　cars。
　〃Interesting；〃　I　said。
　We　came　to　a　stop。　The　parking　attendants　opened　the　doors；　and　I　stepped　out　onto　plush　carpet；　and　heard　soft　music。　I　walked　with　Connor　toward　the　elevator。　Well…dressed　people　were　ing　the　other　way：　men　in　tuxedos；　women　in　expensive　gowns。　And　standing　by　the　elevator；　wearing　a　stained　corduroy　sport　coat　and　furiously　smoking　a　cigarette；　was　Tom　Graham。
　
　？
　When　Graham　played　halfback　at　U。S。C。　he　never　made　first　string。　That　bit　of　history　stuck　like　a　character　trait：　all　his　life　he　seemed　to　miss　the　crucial　promotion；　the　next　step　up　a　detective's　career。　He　had　transferred　from　one　division　to　another；　never　finding　a　precinct　that　suited　him；　or　a　partner　that　worked　well　with　him。　Always　too　outspoken；　Graham　had　made　enemies　in　the　chief's　office；　and　at　thirty…nine；　further　advancement　was　unlikely。　Now　he　was　bitter；　gruff；　and　putting　on　weight　…　a　big　man　who　had　bee　ponderous；　and　a　pain　in　the　ass：　he　just　rubbed　people　the　wrong　way。　His　idea　of　personal　integrity　was　to　be　a　failure；　and　he　was　sarcastic　about　anybody　who　didn't　share　his　views。
　〃Nice　suit；〃　he　said　to　me；　as　I　walked　up。　〃You　look　fucking　beautiful；　Peter。〃　He　flicked　imaginary　dust　off　my　lapel。
　I　ignored　it。　〃How's　it　going；　Tom？〃
　〃You　guys　should　be　attending　this　party；　not　working　it。〃　He　turned　to　Connor　and　shook　his　hand。　〃Hello；　John。　Whose　idea　was　it　to　get　you　out　of　bed？〃
　〃I'm　just　observing；〃　Connor　said　mildly。
　I　said；　〃Fred　Hoffmann　asked　me　to　bring　him　down。〃
　〃Hell；〃　Graham　said。　〃It's　okay　with　me　that　you're　here。　I　can　use　some　help。　It's　pretty　tense　up　there。〃
　We　followed　him　toward　the　elevator。　I　still　saw　no　other　police　officers。　I　said；　〃Where　is　everybody？〃
　〃Good　question；〃　Graham　said。　〃They've　managed　to　keep　all　of　our　people　around　back　at　the　freight　entrance。　They　claim　the　service　elevator　gives　fastest　access。　And　they　keep　talking　about　the　importance　of　their　grand　opening；　and　how　nothing　must　disrupt　it。〃
　By　the　elevators；　a　uniformed　Japanese　private　security　guard　looked　us　over　carefully。　〃These　two　are　with　me；〃　Graham　said。　The　security　man　nodded；　but　squinted　at　us　suspiciously。
　We　got　on　the　elevator。
　〃Fucking　Japanese；〃　Graham　said；　as　the　doors　closed。　〃This　is　still　our　country。　We're　still　the　fucking　police　in　our　own　country。〃
　The　elevator　was　glass　walled　and　we　looked　out　on　downtown　Los　Angeles　as　it　went　up　into　the　light　mist。　Directly　across　was　the　Arco　building。　All　lit　up　at　night。
　〃You　know　these　elevators　are　illegal；〃　Graham　said。　〃According　to　code；　no　glass　elevators　past　ninety　floors；　and　this　building　is　ninety…seven　floors；　the　highest　building　in　L。A。　But　then　this　whole　building　is　one　big　special　case。　And　they　got　it　up　in　six　months。　You　know　how？　They　brought　in　prefab　units　from　Nagasaki；　and　slapped　them　together　here。　Didn't　use　American　construction　workers。　Got　a　special　permit　to　bypass　our　unions　because　of　a　so…called　technical　problem　that　only　Japanese　workers　could　handle。　You　believe　that　shit？〃
　I　shrugged。　〃They　got　it　past　the　American　unions。〃
　〃Hell；　they　got　it　past　the　city　council；〃　Graham　said。　〃But　of　course　that's　just　money。　And　if　there's　one　third　we　know；　the　Japanese　have　money。　So　they　got　variances　on　the　zoning　restrictions；　the　earthquake　ordinances。　They　got　everything　they　wanted。〃
　I　shrugged。　〃Politics。〃
　〃My　ass。　You　know　they　don't　even　pay　tax？　That's　right：　they　got　an　eight…year　break　on　property　taxes　from　the　city。　Shit：　we're　giving　this　country　away。〃
　We　rode　for　a　moment　in　silence。　Graham　stared　out　the　windows。　The　elevators　were　high…speed　Hitachis；　using　the　latest　technology。　The　fastest　and　smoothest　elevators　in　the　world。　We　moved　higher　into　the　mist。
　I　said　to　Graham；　〃You　want　to　tell　us　about　this　homicide；　or　do　you　want　it　to　be　a　surprise？〃
　〃Fuck；〃　Graham　said。　He　flipped　open　his　notebook。　〃Here　you　go。　The　original　call　was　at　eight　thirty…two。　Somebody　saying　there　is　a　'problem　of　disposition　of　a　body。'　Male　with　a　thick　Asian　accent；　doesn't　speak　good　English。　The　operator　couldn't　get　much　out　of　him；　except　an　address。　The　Nakamoto　Tower。　Black　and　white　goes　over；　arrives　at　eight　thirty…nine　p。m。；　finds　it's　a　homicide。　Forty…sixth　floor；　which　is　an　office　floor　in　this　building。　Victim　is　Caucasian　female；　approximately　twenty…five　years　old。　Hell　of　a　good…looking　girl。　You'll　see。
　〃The　blue　suits　stretch　the　tape　and　call　the　division。　I　go　over　with　Merino；　arriving　at　eight　fifty…three。　Crime　scene　IU　and　SID　show　up　about　the　same　time　for　PE；　prints；　and　pics。　Okay　so　far？〃
　〃Yes；〃　Connor　said；　nodding。
　Graham　said；　〃We're　just　getting　started　when　some　Jap　from　the　Nakamoto　Corporation　es　up　in　a　thousand…dollar　blue　suit　and　announces　that　he　is　entitled　to　a　fucking　conversation　with　the　L。A。P。D。　liaison　officer　before　anything　is　done　in　their　fucking　building。　And　he's　saying　things　like　we　got　no　probable　cause。
　〃I　go；　what　the　fuck　is　this。　We　got　an　obvious　homicide　here。　I　think　this　guy　should　get　back。　But　this　Jap　speaks　excellent　fucking　English　and　he　seems　to　know　a　lot　of　law。　And　everybody　at　the　scene　bees；　you　know；　concerned。　I　mean；　there's　no　point　in　pushing　to　start　an　investigation　if　it's　going　to　invalidate　due　process；　right？　And　this　Jap　fucker　is　insisting　the　liaison　must　be　present　before　we　do　anything。　Since　he　speaks　such　fucking　good　English　I　don't　know　what　the　problem　is。　I　thought　the　whole　idea　of　a　liaison　was　for　people　who　don't　speak　the　language　and　this　fucking　guy　has　Stanford　law　school　written　all　over　him。　But　anyway。〃　He　sighed。
　〃You　called　me；〃　I　said。
　〃Yeah。〃
　I　said；　〃Who　is　the　man　from　Nakamoto？〃
　〃Shit。〃　Graham　scowled　at　his　notes。　〃Ishihara。　Ishiguri。　Something　like　that。〃
　〃You　have　his　card？　He　must　have　given　you　his　card。〃
　〃Yeah；　he　did。　I　gave　it　to　Merino。〃
　I　said；　〃Any　other　Japanese　there？〃
　〃What　are　you；　kidding？〃　Graham　laughed。　〃The　place　is　swarming　with　them。　Fucking　Disneyland　up　there。〃
　〃I　mean　the　crime　scene。〃
　〃So　do　I；〃　Graham　said。　〃We　can't　keep　'em　out。　The