Detective Tatsuo Tashihiro sighed. Leaning back in his chair he tipped open the venetian blinds a fraction, allowing a sliver of the afternoon sun to come burning into his stuffy office on the fourth floor of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Station. Particles of dust illuminated by the sun, drifted lazily downward from the ceiling, landing on the mass of paper work assembled on his cluttered desk.

Tatsuo was the detective assigned to Jessica's case. Jake sat opposite him waiting. In the few rushed audiences he had attended with Tatsuo, the graying middle-aged detective always spoke his clipped sentences at the speed of an oncoming bullet train. To his ears it sometimes sounded like one word streamed into another, creating a barrage of sound whose overall meaning he could barely glean, let alone bother to decipher.

Gathering his thoughts Tatsuo leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk as he started to speak in his usual rapid-fire Japanese. "In the shadow of Mount Fuji there's a place called Aokigahara Woods, ever heard of it?"

"No. Why? You think she went there?" Jake asked, adopting the detective's mother tongue.

Tatsuo chuckled dryly but the humor didn't seem to touch his face. "Maybe. It's one of the most popular places in Japan for suicides. People go into the woods and hang themselves, take poison, whatever. The forest covers about 8600 acres, so every year around December hundreds of police and volunteer firefighters have to form a human chain and start combing through, picking the dead bodies out like nits.

Last year alone they found close to a hundred. Jake, Tokyo's an easy place for women to get lost in. Considering we know how self-destructive Jessica's lifestyle was, I'd have to say suicide isn't off the agenda. Sometimes it just takes us a while to find the bodies."

"So why that forest as opposed to any other?"

"Well," Tatsuo said, scrunching up his face, "it's kind of hard to say because its been going on for years, but I think we can apportion some of the blame to a creep who wrote a book back in 1993 called The Complete Manual of Suicide. Things started to snowball after this guy listed Aokigahara as being the perfect place to die. There was a spate of copycat suicides following its publication and it's been popular ever since.

"Let's face it, she wouldn't have needed to go that far if she wanted to end it. I can't tell you how many women we've had to piece together like a jigsaw after they've jumped in front of a train. The Chuo line going out from Shinjuku is a favorite for some reason. Railway workers have nicknamed it Chuocide. Ever seen what a bullet train running at a hundred and sixty miles an hour can do to a human body?"

Jake shook his head, at a loss.

"Argand-san, let me put it this way, a lot of nights my men are out there with fucking chopsticks, picking up the little pieces left fused on the tracks."

"I know what you're saying, but I don't think Jessica would do it. Her father said she was always a fighter. Even if she was doing the wrong things she never gave up."

Tatsuo nodded curtly, "Maybe so. This is all conjecture on my part. Look, the information you've gotten off her dealer sounds valuable but I've got to warn you our success rate on cases like this is quite low. I'd class hostesses as a vulnerable population here, particularly foreigners like Jessica. We've got a folder this thick full of missing women who worked in the hostess industry," the detective said, illustrating his point by holding his hands out on either side of his ample middle-age spread."

"Why is that?"

"Well think about it. We're talking about women working in a shadowy industry that's hard to regulate. I mean sure, the official line you always hear from these clubs is that their hostesses are following a noble, time-honored tradition like the geishas of old, entertaining patrons over food and drinks but it's all a myth. The majority of these hostess clubs, even your ultra expensive ones in Ginza are nothing more than meeting places for clients and whores. Trust me, none of the girls are sitting around after dinner playing shamisen's any more. The only instrumental skill they've learned, is how to blow their client's shakuhachi."

Shakuhachi...The English translation escaped Jake for a second until he suddenly recalled it meant wood flute and broke out in a grin.

Tatsuo continued. "Now we get girls like Jessica, fly in on three-month tourist visas and start doing gigs in the hostess clubs. Working illegally, in other words. The female managers of the clubs they work at, the Mama-sans, know this and exploit them. I've been involved in a lot of cases where foreign women have been forced to surrender their passport in return for work. The Mama-sans know that without identification foreign women won't be employed anywhere else, so pretty soon they put the screws on them, forcing them to do their hostessing and whoring for next to nothing," Tatsuo shrugged as if it was all old news. "It's a vicious circle. These women look at us and think we're the bad guys, they know as soon as they lodge an official complaint they have to give themselves up and be charged for breaking the law."

Rising, the detective hitched his pants up around his rotund waist, moved a pile of paperwork aside and sat on the edge of his crowded desk.

"To be honest Argand-san you're in a better position than I am to find out where she went to. If we go into these clubs then everybody clams up. Nobody will admit she worked at Black Cat because officially she didn't, virtually none of the girls do, you know? If we take in the Mama-san for employing illegal workers then all she will get prosecuted for is violations of immigration law at the worst which means a fine, basically a slap on the fucking wrist.

"Look it's not just a problem with white women we are talking about here, there's thousands of girls being trafficked from third world countries, Thailand, Burma you name it. Flying in under false names, false passports, working illegally in prostitution rackets run in the clubs and bars by yakuza. Often the only time we become aware that they had been working in Japan is when we find their dead bodies."

"So what about the yakuza? What's the chance that some organization like that got her?"

Tatsuo shook his head, "those punks have nothing to gain by snatching Jessica. They usually just drug their victims and involve them in prostitution, guaranteed money flow. Besides it's not their style, they wouldn't want police and media attention to be focused on their activities by snatching a white woman."

"You haven't been able to piece anything together about the last night she was working?"

"No, like I said, no witnesses coming forward, nothing. We checked the hotel room she was renting out the week of her disappearance. Nothing unusual there, no signs of a struggle, it's just like she vanished one night." Taking his glasses off, Tatsuo rubbed his eyes and pulled out a crumpled pack of HOPE brand cigarettes, lighting one up.

Jake glanced at the cigarette pack's curious design. Against a navy blue background was a picture of a golden dove descending with an olive branch in its mouth. Jake couldn't help but smirk at the irony of it. The cigarettes were introduced after WW2 by the state monopoly Japan Tobacco. The brand name Hope supposedly expressed the feelings of many Japanese towards the new age. Hope what? You don't get cancer? he mused.

"Let's look at another possibility," Tatsuo said. "Right now, cult membership in Tokyo are at an all time high. The biggest cult I'm aware of, Soka Gakkai, has over ten million members. I've had a number of missing person cases solved where we've found that our missing person has renounced their former identity, adopted a different persona and moved into a cult's communal living arrangement."

Jake nodded; it was an angle he'd already considered. Tokyo was some sort of hotbed for cults, advertising their bizarre teachings in local magazines, newspapers and on the net. "If you don't mind me asking, why do you think there are so many cults here?"

Chuckling Tatsuo drew back on his cigarette, blowing out a mouthful of smoke before responding. "History repeats itself, right? Long ago Japan was a cult. With that as our background it's not all that surprising."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm surprised you ask. The last time we met you mentioned you took a keen interest in Japanese history, well, let me give you a little refresher. Starting in the seventeenth century the Tokugawa Regime that reigned over this country for two hundred and fifty years operated exactly like a cult. They decreed the emperor was divine and to be worshipped as a living god, cut us off from the rest of the world and subjugated the will of the common people by killing anyone who challenged their authority or tried to leave."

Impressed by the detective's insight, Jake sat there a second musing over its implications. Jumping off the desk, Tatsuo turned around and started rifling through the papers stacked haphazardly upon it. "How are you finding working for Jessica's father? We only got to speak once through a translator but he seemed quite friendly."

"Oh, he's fine to work for, just eager to get his daughter back," Jake replied, knowing that any further disclosure as to what Kerry Beaumont thought of Detective Tashihiro and the Japanese race in general could only be detrimental to the matters at hand.

Kerry Beaumont was an extremely wealthy Australian property investor and developer. Jake held no illusions as to why he had been hired on to lead the search for Jessica over the swag of high profile international agencies her father could have selected... he was the white man for the job, an Australian who could speak Japanese. Put simply, Kerry Beaumont was a patriotic red-neck who despised Asia and its inhabitants.

He'd only spoken to the man over the phone himself. His initial call had been with regard to the recovery of debt on a credit card Jessica had amassed with the large banking institution he had worked for at the time; Hoji Bank of Japan. The call had rung alarm bells for her father, not so much because of the substantial debt which he'd immediately repaid, but because he hadn't been able to contact her himself in two weeks.
Jake's main role at Hoji had been in the field of debt recovery operations.

He had been responsible for tracking down English-speaking clients like Jessica who had overdrawn on their credit cards and he had been good at it. Good enough to know that her father's concerns were justified, she appeared to have vanished.

Sympathetic to Kerry Beaumont's situation, he had assisted him to officially register his daughter as missing with the Tokyo Metro Police a couple of days later. At the time of Jessica's disappearance, the salary he had been receiving from Hoji had been lucrative enough, but nothing like the sort of cash Kerry Beaumont had offered to transfer into his account if he left it behind to start looking for the man's daughter.

His initial protestations to the offer, centering around the fact he had no prior experience investigating a missing person, had been swatted aside by Kerry who explained he had made a fortune on the stock market trading off his gut instincts and felt sure Jake could do it. With virtually a year's salary being offered as payment Jake hadn't found much reason to argue, resigning from Hoji the following day.
Tatsuo turned around suddenly, producing a fat manila file, which he handed to him.

"It's too early to rule anything out but it's a real bad time for her to go missing. A number of foreign women working as hostesses in Tokyo's red light areas have been murdered recently. Thanks to the wonders of DNA we have conclusive evidence that it's one person responsible."

"What, like a serial killer?"

Tatsuo nodded, "guys in the Metro have nicknamed him Jack the Ripper."

"You never mentioned this before."

"Wasn't allowed to. The murders occurred in several neighboring police jurisdictions around Tokyo. You wouldn't believe the headaches that caused administration's bureaucrats to try and co-ordinate. They find it hard enough processing the forms when somebody gets a speeding ticket. Besides, owing to the sensational nature of the crimes, department heads didn't want the media to get wind of it before time."

Jake opened the file containing five separate autopsy protocols. Listed in each were results of the autopsy, along with photographs, X-rays and the coroner's opinion of the cause of death. All the female victims were Caucasians. The photos tucked inside the first protocol he looked at revealed several different shots of a woman's headless corpse lying on a blood stained bed, the corpse's severed arms and legs lying alongside it.

"Jesus."

"Pretty gross, huh? This guy is slicing them up like sashimi."

"You sure it's a guy?"

Tatsuo shrugged. "We're not sure of anything really, the force needed to cut these women up like they have been would suggest that it was. Autopsies revealed that most of them had experienced hemorrhage in muscle tissue."

"Meaning?"

"They were still alive when the dismemberment began. One of them died from her decapitation wound, but the others..."

Something about the bed the woman was lying on hit him as odd; Jake glanced closer noticing that its back and sides were shaped into the likeness of a racing car, there were even built-to-scale black wheels jutting out from the sides.

"What sort of fucking bed is that?"

"Oh, this one," Tatsuo said, squinting at the photo, "They found her in the Grand Prix suite of a love hotel in Kabukicho. The guy we're after isn't stupid; he killed the other women in love hotels also, meaning no witnesses."

Jake nodded, knowing exactly what Tatsuo meant. Love hotels were "pay by the hour" set-ups where anonymity was assured, designed for consumers with sex, not sleeping, on their mind. Customers entered the hotel's foyer and, instead of a clerk, would usually find a mounted showcase on the wall displaying large back lit transparencies of the hotel's fantasy-designed rooms. Blackened rooms signified occupancy. To ensure the hotel's clientele would remain unseen, the foyer would also contain an automatic key-dispensing machine, using credit cards to accept payment.

He quickly scanned through the other photos; more dismembered headless cadavers cut up with clinical precision. One of the women's bodies had been sliced straight down the midline, its blackened lungs exposed on either side reminding him of the pips you'd see in the core of a cleanly halved apple. "The victims" heads are all missing, is that right?

Tatsuo nodded. "So are their credit cards."

"What, they were robbed too?"

"I wouldn't say robbed, no other valuable items were taken and we've kept traces on the missing cards. So far none of them have been used."

"Any possible motive for the murders happening then?"

"No idea. They had the departments" shrinks trying to profile the killer but they couldn't come up with anything substantial. These murders don't fit any pattern of behavior they're used to seeing. Although they have all subsequently been identified as prostitutes, none of the victims were interfered with sexually before their deaths. The only contact the killer seems to have made with these women was to cut them up."

"What with?"

"No murder weapon's ever been found," Tatsuo said, throwing his hands up in the air. "The obvious guess would be that he used some kind of machete or a sword."

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation.

"Come in," barked Tatsuo. The shaven head of a young officer popped through the crack in the door. Nodding first towards Jake then at the detective, the officer walked over to where Tatsuo sat and they conferred in whispered tones. Jake looked out the doorway at the busy main floor of the office. Plain-clothed and blue-uniformed officers rushed around yelling instructions to each other as if they were dealing with the aftermath of a disaster but commenting on the level of activity earlier, Tatsuo had assured him they were having a quiet day.

You'll have to excuse me, I've got a meeting," Tatsuo said, jumping off the desk and grabbing his suit jacket off the back of his chair. "Are you meeting Benkei soon?"

"Yeah, we're getting together for sushi tonight."

"Good. Send him my regards. Look, watch yourself out there, you never know where you might end up."
"What do you mean by that?"

"Well Argand-san," Tatsuo replied, shrugging, "it's not only women I was talking about before you know. A lot of men get lost here too."

* * *

"Wasabi," muttered Benkei through a mouthful of sushi, motioning at Jake with his big hand to pass the ornate dish that held a blob of the green paste. He passed it over, watching as the giant sitting in front of him grabbed a thick chunk of tuna sashimi off his plate and smeared it with wasabi before flipping it up in the air and into his mouth.

With his long hair and outlines of half finished tattoos scribbled over his muscular forearms, Benkei's appearance seemed to perfectly complement his coarse table manners.

On the strength of Tatsuo's recommendation he had brought Benkei on board the previous week to assist his investigation and to act as a guide. Belonging to the Tokyo chapter of the New York-based volunteer group the Guardian Angels, Benkei, along with three hundred or so other members regularly patrolled Tokyo's busy nighttime areas troubled by crime.

With all members dressed in the organization's signature red berets, their primary function was to act as a visual deterrent; report crimes noticed and provide help for people they thought needed it. In hindsight, he saw it had been a wise insight on Tatsuo's behalf to avail him to Benkei's service as now he also had the entire network of Guardian Angel volunteers searching for Jessica on their nightly patrols.

When he inquired into Benkei's appearance earlier, Tatsuo had informed him that before joining the Angels Benkei had been in some trouble. His immense size as a teenager earned him membership in a biker gang and a life of petty crime. Known as bosozoku, the biker gangs were commonly used as recruitment grounds by yakuza clans for new members. Without going into specifics, Tatsuo had explained that he had eventually helped him get out of the gang life and find a legitimate job as a mechanic, encouraging him to work with the Angels and become a part of the wider community.

Taking a glance around the up-market sushi bar, Jake noticed his large companions eating antics were attracting some concerned glances from nearby patrons. "Nice going, Flipper. Do you have anything to report back to me?"

Benkei finished off the sashimi before speaking. "Nothing last night. The other angels managed to cover about a hundred clubs around Roppongi and Ginza but nobody has heard of her. We never thought about checking Kabukicho though. Are you sure she went there?"

"Not really. Why?"

Benkei shook his head, "bad place to be in. It's got a crime rate ninety six times the Tokyo average, heavy yakuza influence on the streets. Do you know how it got the fancy name?" He asked, as he started to work on his teeth with an old toothpick he had pulled out of his pocket.

"No."

"The area Kabukicho now occupies was bombed flat during World War II. After the war finished, they renamed it Kabukicho. Got its name from a committee of local businessmen who thought it could be turned into an arty place full of Kabuki theaters like Ginza. Here's the funny part. The only businesses that bought in were brothels. Before they knew it Kabukicho had become Tokyo's worst red light area. Still is, full of whores working the streets."

"Really? I thought prostitution like that's illegal here. Don't they usually, at least try to hide it by saying they're hostesses?"

Benkei nodded, smiling. "Right, but politicians and police like to turn a blind eye to Kabukicho. They know these girls have to go somewhere so it's better if they all stay in one area, don't scatter out onto the nice streets of surrounding communities and upset the voters."

Smiling, Jake suddenly remembered Tatsuo's oblique reference to history repeating itself.

"What?" Benkei said, noticing his smile.

"Nothing. I just figured Kabukicho is almost like the modern version of the seventeenth century Edo pleasure quarters. They were segregated into Yoshiwara by the Tokugawa shogunate so ordinary streets didn't have prostitutes milling around causing unrest."

"Right."

"Wasn't there a special name they gave to licensed quarters like Yoshiwara?"

"Yeah," Benkei said sitting back, "Ukiyo, the floating world."

"That's it. I think it's also a Buddhist metaphor for the transient world of fleeting pleasure."

Benkei snorted derisively, twirling the toothpick lazily around between his lips. "C'mon Jake, I think you're being a little overly romantic, these days Kabukicho is more famous for being part of the Shasei Sangyoo."

"What's that?"

"I don't know about metaphors but in English it translates to the ejaculation industry. It's the place people go in great numbers to get off. We're talking about brothels, no-panty coffee shops, strip shows, female sumo bouts, soap lands that's your standard massage parlors but the girls bathe you using certain body parts as a sponge..."

"You sound pretty familiar with the area. What about a club called Black Cat, ever heard of it?"

"No, but if it's like any of the other hostess clubs I've been to around there, then I'd say it's the kind of place where when you come, you go."

"You mean it's like a brothel?"

"Uh, not really, just ripu sabisu, fingaa sabisu," seeing his confused look Benkei repeated it in English, "lip and finger service." Leaning forward Benkei continued in a low voice, "They give you girls at your booth as you'd expect in normal hostess clubs except the lighting in these places is really dark and for a little extra your hostess will do you at your table.

"Just lip and finger but the girls there are whores, so if you want, you can take them somewhere else for more. At the same time in these clubs, they'll have some kind of stage show happening for everyone to watch while they get wasted. You need me to go with you tonight?"