Chapter 54: An Astronomical Figure! Do You Think You Have Any Pull with Me?

“Damn it! Those detestable bastards!” Stepping out of the chief’s office, Hidenobu Aoyama suddenly found himself filled with loathing for the two gangs of robbers. If not for those scum, how could his transfer order to the Metropolitan Police Department have been delayed?

“Aoyama,” came a voice.

Section Chief Aoi was approaching slowly.

“Chief Aoi,” Hidenobu Aoyama and Aya Asai immediately stopped in their tracks, bowing respectfully.

“Inspector Asai.” Aoi offered a faint smile in return, then said, “If you don’t mind, I’d like a private word with Aoyama.”

“Yes, sir!” Aya Asai took her leave.

Hidenobu Aoyama wasn’t familiar with Aoi and asked, puzzled, “Is there something you need from me, sir?”

“It’s not an order,” Aoi replied with a genial smile, patting him on the shoulder. “Here’s the thing: I have a bit of a connection with Yukiyuki Matsushita, the new president of the Noguchi Group. He hopes to invite you for a drink tonight and sincerely wishes for you to honor him with your presence.”

“Just a drink?” Aoyama asked, suspicion flickering in his eyes.

He doubted things were really that simple.

Aoi nodded. “He said that because Noguchi Matsuo was previously arrogant and headstrong, some misunderstandings arose between your department and the Noguchi Group. He wishes to apologize to you in person.”

“Well, since you’re asking, Chief Aoi, how could I refuse the Noguchi Group and, more importantly, how could I refuse you?” Aoyama agreed with a smile.

When your superior extends a personal invitation, how could you possibly refuse?

Aoi burst into hearty laughter. “I never realized you were so eloquent, Aoyama!”

Because you never bothered to give me the time of day before, Aoyama retorted inwardly.

“It’s settled then. Tonight at nine, Sakura Nightclub, Room No. 3, in Kabukicho. Don’t be late.”

“I’ll be there,” Aoyama replied. He watched Aoi walk away, then returned to the office.

That afternoon, Kita Taku Bank’s Tokyo Shinjuku branch officially announced the losses suffered in the robbery.

3.7 billion yen!

Nearly forty million US dollars.

The famous Takeda case that once shocked the nation had only netted 700 million yen; compared to this, it was nothing.

In these hard economic times, while most industries in Japan were in decline, the business of robbery was thriving, with new records being set in overall “production.”

That evening, when this news was broadcast on radio and television, it stunned the entire nation.

It also stunned the four scar-faced robbers.

They stared in silence at the sixteen bags before them, each light enough to be carried single-handedly, utterly perplexed as to how they could possibly contain 3.7 billion yen.

“Damn it! They’re blatantly smearing us! Did we even get 1 billion yen out of that haul?” grumbled a bald, middle-aged man.

“They’re just using this as an excuse to cover up their own embezzlement,” Scarface replied with a sardonic smile, then frowned. “Still, I didn’t expect another group of our ‘colleagues’ to show up. Lucky we made our move first, or things would’ve been a mess today.”

“Haha, those poor bastards must be spitting blood right now,” laughed a blond youth.

In the corner, a crew-cut man busying himself with a gun asked, “Boss, what do we do next?”

“With this much money, getting out of Tokyo unnoticed is impossible,” Scarface stated, his gaze lingering on the bags. “So we stash it here for now. Once the heat dies down, we’ll split it. If we divide it now, we won’t live long enough to spend it.”

He then swept a cold glance over the other three. “In the meantime, eat, drink, play—do as you please. But keep your mouths shut! If word gets out, it’ll be the end for all of us. And don’t contact each other, either. If I need you, I’ll get in touch. Got it?”

“Yes, sir!” the three replied solemnly.

Scarface’s expression softened somewhat. He opened a bag, pulled out several wads of cash, and tossed them to his companions. “This should cover your expenses for now.”

The four of them then hid all the money in the cellar of the house, locked the door, and went their separate ways.

Once the blond youth was certain he was alone, he pulled out the two wads of cash he’d just received, brought them to his nose, inhaled deeply with a look of satisfaction, then hailed a cab straight for Kabukicho.

...

Sakura Nightclub, Kabukicho.

Room No. 3.

“Inspector Aoi, it’s already eight o’clock. Why hasn’t he arrived yet?” Yukiyuki Matsushita glanced at his watch, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Even if he has no respect for me, surely he wouldn’t dare offend you.”

“You know as well as I do that there was a major case in our district today. It’s normal for Aoyama, one of our key officers, to be busy. No hurry.” Aoi smiled, cigarette in hand, though a trace of displeasure flickered in his eyes.

Aoyama actually dared to be late!

Clearly, he didn’t care about his superior’s face at all.

Just then, the door swung open and Hidenobu Aoyama entered, apologizing, “I’m terribly sorry, there was a traffic jam on the way.”

He truly hadn’t meant to be late; Kabukicho’s traffic jams at night were notorious.

“That’s just how it is here—once darkness falls, every man in town is drawn to this place.” Aoi’s expression betrayed no annoyance as he laughed, stood up, and welcomed Aoyama warmly, leading him to a seat with a friendly arm around his shoulders. “Come, Aoyama, let me introduce you. This is Yukiyuki Matsushita, the new president of the Noguchi Group. The two of you should get to know each other.”

“Aoyama, I’ve heard much about you. I’ve long wanted to meet you, and now my wish is finally fulfilled.” Matsushita stood, smiling, and raised his glass, draining it in one gulp. “Let me toast you first.”

“You’re quite the bold one, Matsushita!” Aoyama poured himself a drink, toasted him, and after setting the glass down, remarked, “You’re not that old, are you, Matsushita? Can’t be more than a couple of years older than I am. Yet, after Noguchi Matsuo’s downfall, you’ve managed to shoulder the responsibility of leading the Noguchi Group. Remarkable for someone so young.”

The man looked, at most, thirty.

“Are you mocking me, Aoyama? I can’t compare to you!” Matsushita waved his hands, protesting, “Not a chance, not at all.”

“Alright, enough with the modesty, you two. You’re both rising stars in your respective fields.” Aoi poured each of them another drink.

After several rounds, Aoi exchanged a knowing glance with Matsushita. Matsushita set down his glass. “To be frank, Aoyama, besides clearing up any misunderstandings with the Noguchi Group, I also hope to reestablish a solid relationship with the Nohara Finance Corporation.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Aoyama feigned ignorance. “If the Noguchi Group wants to work with Nohara Finance, go speak to their president. What could I possibly do?”

“Aoyama!” Aoi put an arm around his shoulders, smiling. “There are only three of us here, no need to play dumb. If Matsushita came to you, there’s a reason. Who doesn’t know that the widow of Nohara Dake trusts you implicitly?”

“Aoyama, the Noguchi Group’s collaboration with Nohara Finance goes back years. It was only Noguchi Matsuo’s foolishness that disrupted it, and now he’s out of the picture. As the saying goes, better the devil you know. Matsushita is a reliable man.”

“Aoyama, that’s exactly how I feel,” Matsushita chimed in, clapping his hands. “If you’re willing to help mediate, the Noguchi Group will be most grateful.”

“I’d like to help, but I’m afraid that’s beyond my power. Sorry,” Aoyama shook his head.

Yamakawa Ichijo was already setting up a company in Tokyo, preparing to enter the market. If Aoyama went back on his word now, what credibility would he have left?

Besides, it was obvious that Aoi and Matsushita were in cahoots. If the Noguchi Group renewed cooperation with Nohara Finance, would Matsushita, with Aoi as his backer, truly behave himself? Absolutely not! For a man as young as Matsushita to take over after Noguchi Matsuo’s fall spoke volumes of his ambition and drive.

Matsushita’s smile faded as he leaned back, his tone cool. “Aoyama, do you really think those country bumpkins from the Yamakawa family can collect debts in Tokyo better than the Noguchi Group? That they have the upper hand? Country folk trying to muscle in on Tokyo’s turf—it won’t be easy.”

His threat was unmistakable.

“That’s precisely why I’m giving them a chance,” Aoyama replied, downing his drink. He stood. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Bang!

Just as he reached the door, a glass came flying past, shattering against the wall.

Aoyama turned.

It was Aoi who had thrown it.

Aoi stared at Aoyama. “Since I arranged this meeting, the matter must be settled. If you leave now, you’re disrespecting me—”

Before he could finish, Aoyama strode over to Matsushita, seized a bottle, and smashed it over the man’s head.

Matsushita’s face contorted with shock and terror; he tried to dodge, but it was too late. The bottle exploded against his skull.

“Aah!” Matsushita screamed, clutching his head as blood streamed between his fingers.

Aoyama grabbed him by the hair, hauling him up and slamming him down onto the coffee table, then pressed his head down, smashing it against the table again and again. “You mongrel dare bare your fangs at me? Respect? Do you think you have any respect here? Speak! Do you?”

In his heart, Matsushita cursed—he was the one playing tough, but why was he the one getting beaten?

Aoi, stunned and furious, slammed his hands on the table and roared, “Hidenobu Aoyama—!”

“Chief Aoi, keep your dog on a leash, or he’ll get himself killed.” Aoyama flung the blood-soaked Matsushita to the floor like a dead dog, then casually wiped his hands with two tissues. “I have other business. I’ll be going now.”

With that, he tossed the bloodied tissues at Aoi and strode out.

Behind him, Aoi’s chest heaved with rage.

“Damn bastard!”

After a long moment, Aoi spat out the curse, overturned the glasses on the table, then gripped the tabletop, head bowed, gasping for breath.

This insolent man must be taught a lesson!