Manhattan Noir - Lawrence Block [42]
But he is not at home, he reminds himself for the second time, and there are decisions to make, and make soon. Should he speak to the detective? If so, what should he say? Is it dishonorable to lie to the barbarians who bombed Hiroshima and Nagasaki? Who occupied Japan? Who humiliated the emperor? Taiku no longer believes that Goldstein will hurt him, not physically. That’s because Goldstein has made the nature of his true threat absolutely clear: Talk or face immediate arrest and Speedo Brown, or someone just like him. Well, talk is one thing, truth another …
Taiku’s thoughts are interrupted by the appearance of Patrolman O’Boyle. He is walking along the hallway, a prisoner in tow, a female prisoner.
“Up ya go, Taiku,” O’Boyle orders. “You’re movin’.”
“Thank you, Lord,” Speedo Brown cries.
O’Boyle cuffs his prisoner to the bars of Taiku’s cell, then unlocks the door and motions Taiku forward. Already on his feet, Taiku finds that his legs do not respond to his will, that his heart has dropped into his feet, that he has a pressing need to immediately void his bladder. He has never known such fear, has not, prior to this moment, known that human beings had the capacity to be this afraid.
“You wanna hustle it up, Tojo? I don’t got all day.”
Again, Taiku wills himself to move, again he fails.
“Lemme put it this way, Taiku. If I gotta call in backup and extract you from that cell, I’m gonna carve your little Jap ass into sushi. You comprende? ”
Taiku’s mouth curls into a little circle, then he finally speaks, “Man threaten me.”
The word “threaten” emerges as “fletta,” which only adds to the humiliation Taiku feels at that moment. He has begged an inferior, a foreigner, to protect him.
“What?”
“Man threaten me.”
“Who fletta, you? Speedo?” O’Boyle glances at Speedo Brown, then laughs before answering his own question. “Little Speedo? He wouldn’t hurt a fly. Would ya, Speedo?”
“Never hurt a fly in my life, but I’m hell on Japanese beetles.”
“I am Japanese citizen. You must … protect me.” Taiku chokes on his own demand. A shudder runs through his body. If he’d had the means, he would have killed himself before speaking those words.
“Whatta ya think, Speedo? Should I ploteck him?”
“You jus’ leave the boy in my hands, officer. Ain’ nobody gonna hurt him. Leastways, nobody but me.”
O’Boyle chuckles and shakes his head. “Awright, Tojo. You can wait for Goldstein out by the desk. Bein’ as you’re a Jap citizen and you ain’t been charged with a crime, I guess it’s my beholden duty to save you from the big bad wolf.”
“I’m really sorry,” Goldstein apologizes for the second time. “A couple of uniforms picked up a rapist I been after for six months. I hadda make sure he got hit with enough counts to catch a high bail. The asshole, he goes out on the streets, he’s gonna rape someone else.”
They are sitting in the interview room they left an hour before, on either side of the gray table. Goldstein’s pen, pad, and tape recorder are laid out in a neat row. “We’re goin’ on the record now.” Goldstein sets the tape recorder on end, starts it running, then suddenly shuts it off and pushes it to the side.
“Ya know something, Hoshi? I don’t think we need to get formal. For right now, let’s just keep this between the two of us. Whatta ya say?”
Goldstein acknowledges Hoshi Taiku’s nod with one of his own, then gets to work. “Okay, why don’t we start at the beginning. Why don’t you tell me, in your own words, exactly what happened at the hotel this morning.”
Taiku draws a breath and feels his command of English, modest at the best of times, slip away. He fears that when he speaks, he will appear a clown to the detective whose eyes never leave his own. Still, he knows he must speak.
“Girl jump,” he finally says. “She whore.”
“Whore?”
“She whore,” Taiku repeats.
“A prostitute? That’s what you’re saying?”
“Yes.”
“You devil. So, how’d you meet her?” Goldstein shakes his head and mock-punches Taiku’s arm. “And by the way, her name