~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 35 Millimeters II: Behind the Lens by Lady Aishiteru Chapter 6 - No Answers ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Despite my efforts to block them out, the frantic knocking on my door became louder by the second. I opened my eyes, which seemed to be gummed shut. I hurriedly jumped out of bed, and then I realized I was still wearing my evening gown from the previous night. After a brief inspection of the mirror, I decided I looked good enough to answer the door. I raced to the door, noticing that I was in my stocking feet. My stilettos were carefully placed at the foot of my bed, next to Artemis. "Funny," I thought to myself. "I don't remem- ber taking my shoes off..." I casually strolled to the door, relaxing my anxiety-stiffened muscles. Upon seeing that the officers were all men, I flashed my most brilliant smile. "Hi, can I help you?" I said, sounding as innocent as I could. After all, I didn't do anything...did I? I could only remember up to the Chokahanka game at the casino; after that, every- thing was a blur. "M-miss Aino, is it?" asked a stout, balding man with white, bushy whiskers. "Yes, that would be me." "Yes, of course," he said, clearing his throat. "I'm Officer Kamadachi, and my assistant is Chin-san," he said, gesturing to a tall, blond, blue-eyed man with long legs and a triangular build. "We need to ask you a few questions about what happened last night." "What happened to whom?" I asked. I wasn't playing dumb per se; I sincerely hadn't the faintest idea what the police were after. "Well, naturally, it would be your perspective that is of interest to us," interjected Chin. "There was an incident involving The Crimson Fist at the Lucky Buddha Casino that you may know about." "Well," I began, taking in a deep breath and tapping my chin pensively. "I went to the casino on a date. I wanted to go someplace quiet, so my date escorted me to the Chokahanka room towards the back." I paused for a moment, and Chin motioned for me to continue. "Neither of us actually played, but we did watch the game for about ninety minutes. When the dice thrower left the room, my date took off and ran after him." "Was your date someone by the name of Kunzite?" Chin inqui- red. I squeezed my palms into little fists. "Why, is he in some kind of trouble?" I asked, shifting my right foot from side to side. "Possibly," said Kamadachi. "We have reason to believe that Kunzite may be involved in the Crimson Fist." "Crimson Fist? What's that?" I asked. Chin's eyes narrowed slightly, as if my line of questioning had probed too deeply. "If I told you that, Miss Aino, your life would be in grave jeopardy." The blood flushed out of my skin and turned to ice. "Oh my God!" I said, putting my hand to my forehead. "Are you talking about the yakuza?" In response, Chin and Kamadachi snapped their clipboards shut, bowed their heads and quietly shut my door. After ten minutes, when the implications of last night's events had sunk in, I marched over to my telephone and angrily punched in Kunzite's cell phone number, which I had obtained from my caller I.D. "Hello, Kunzite?" I demanded. "This is Danburite, how may I help you, Miss Aino?" "I want to talk to Kunzite NOW!" I screamed. There was a slight pause on the other end of the line. "He's in a meeting right now-" "I DON'T CARE! PUT HIM ON NOW!" I exclaimed, feeling the vein pop out in the middle of my forehead. Suddenly, the sound coming from the receiver end of my phone changed to bland, pacifying elevator music. I was NOT in the mood to be patronized, damn it! I slammed the phone down on its hook, not caring that I was being very loud for nine in the morning. I was going to get to the bottom of this, even if I had to wring Danburite's thick neck to get to it. Furiously, I hailed a taxi. "Chiba Inc, NOW!" I said, slam- ming a stack of yens into the driver's open palm. "Yes, ma'am!" he exclaimed, but he didn't speed up one bit. "What's the friggin' hold up! I need to get there some time this CENTURY!" I wailed, pounding my fists on the rear window. "Sorry, Ma'am, but I can only go so fast as the cars in front of me." "THEN GET INTO ANOTHER LANE!" I demanded. The driver gulped audibly and switched to the lane to the left. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* After what seemed like forever, but was actually only a few minutes, I marched into the elevator, ignoring the pleas of the secretary in the lobby. I hated being so rude, but this was a matter of life, and possibly death. I marched straight out of the elevator and pounded my fists on Danburite's desk, not caring that the wood was particularly dense and quite painful. "I WANT TO SEE KUNZITE NOW!" I blasted in his ears. Danburite stood up in a way that was slow and calculated. He sidestepped to the left of the desk, completely blocking my path. "Miss Aino, Kunzite cannot be disturbed right now," he said in a voice that was dangerously low. An animalistic, primal glint flickered in his eyes, and fear began to crowd out my anger-ridden mind. His steely blue eyes narrowed, and he added in a husky, feral rasp, "If you need to speak to Kunzite, you will do so when and if he has the allotted time to do so. Do we have an understanding?" I stood up straight, puffed my chest out, squared my shoulders to his and spread my legs apart. I focused my anger into a tight, little ball, and allowed it to trickle out. "You don't want to talk to me that way, Danburite." "Is that any way to speak to a man that saved your life?" he hissed. "Don't be ridiculous," I scoffed. "You have done no such thing." He said nothing in response, but devoured me with his preda- tory glance. Come to think of it, I know that look. It was the same look that I had seen last night at the casino. The gears began to turn in my brain, and I began to understand that Danburite was hiding something, something big. My eyes widened. "You're keeping a secret from me, Danburite," I said, grinning like a shark. A look of fear flickered across his face, but it was gone in an instant. "I am warning you not to underestimate me, Miss Aino. It could be very dangerous." His expression became blank and unreadable. "How long will Kunzite be...occupied?" I asked. "Long enough," he replied. I turned around, and then pivoted on my heel so I was facing Danburite again. "You can't hide forever, Danburite. Sooner or later, I'll find out what you're hiding, and when I do, you won't have a prayer," I said in a manner that was poised, well-timed, and let him know in no uncertain terms that I meant business. I walked out of the waiting area, my shoulders held high, and I didn't look back. It was time for me to go to work, but as soon as I got out, I would spend every waking moment digging for answers. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* After work, I did something that I hadn't done in years; I ran straight to the nearest newsstand. Maybe something in the news would trigger my mind; at least that's what I had hoped. I coolly slid some yen across the counter and dashed to the nearest taxi, not even bothering to get the change. I made sure that I was in the safety of my apartment before I opened the newspaper. I knew that I had heard the name "Crimson Fist" before, and I was almost certain that it had something to do with the yakuza, which is the Japanese mafia. I slowly turned each page of the newspaper, searching the breaking news for any relevant information. I was just about to give up when I saw a picture that grabbed my attention. I saw a tall, slender woman who looked very familiar somehow. I pondered this as I rubbed the egg-shaped lump on the back of my forehead. "Yes, I have seen that woman before," I thought, tapping my fingers on the smooth, glass surface of my coffee table. The caption directly under the photograph read, "Beryl Bixbite, wife of the recently departed Tanas Bixbite, being led away by the police after a casino raid." "Bixbite...Bixbite," I mumbled, racking my brains. I have heard that name before. Mamoru mentioned it last month. If I was remembering correctly, Beryl was the widow of Tanas Bixbite, the pre- vious leader of Bixbite, Inc. Bixbite had long been a thorn in Mamoru's side, and it was the main source of competition for Chiba Inc. Beryl had a reputation for being a ruthless, domineering busi- nesswoman who was not afraid to play dirty. Rumor had it that she had arranged for the imprisonment, and perhaps even the execution of the late Tanas Bixbite. If that was true, then Beryl placed very little value on human life itself, trading the lives of men in a calculated shuffle that would invariably end with the fire haired woman on top of the bodies of all those who dared to oppose her godlike power. I walked over to my seldom-used computer and turned on my Internet connection. From there, I typed in the keywords "yakuza, Crimson Fist," and "Bixbite," leaving out the punctuation. Seconds later, a screen full of police reports flooded my screen. My heart skipped a beat, and for the first time, I realized that I was in over my head, and that only God himself could save me now. The first link I opened led me to an online article about the yakuza: ~*~About a month ago, a corporate secretary was in the custody of the Immigration Bureau at Maui International Airport. No drugs were found on the man, but the pinky of his right hand was missing. This led the Maui island officers to believe that he was a former member of the yakuza, the Japanese mafia. The FBI contacted the Japanese police to check the man's record. Entry into any American territory or province is possible despite any out- standing criminal records, provided that the American embassy is made aware of it. He entered with a fake visa, appearing to be just like any other Japanese tourist. The Bureau officer noted his missing digit and did not permit him to enter the country. He was sent to Japan the next day. It is common in Japan for a random individual to be shot down by yakuza fire, people that are entirely innocent. It has been proven impossible thus far to eliminate this insidious, secretive society. Like a spider's web, their power is very strong and sweeps the entire nation of Japan. The society itself continues to grow, feeding from money gained in the black market. The yakuza use this money to collect the weapons they need to protect themselves from their enemies. Most of the information obtained for this article comes from a former member of the yakuza. He was twenty years old when he entered one of the largest yakuza societies in Tokyo. He retired fifteen years later, when he was thirty-five years old, and he became aware that his job was a danger to his family. One day, his youngest son was given an assignment to write about his father's occupation. When he asked his father, he was unable to tell the boy that he was a secret member of the yakuza. The stigma of his job had built up to a point that he could no longer bear. He fled to the United States, where he is currently under federal protection. The yakuza is a male-dominated organization. Women are regarded as weak and untrustworthy, with a single exception. The only recognized female of the any yakuza assemblage is the boss' wife, called ane-san, which means "older sister." She is given the same respect as the boss solely because of her marital ties. A woman's position is to stay home and care for the family. Only the man may fight, and he must be willing to die for the good of his boss. Also, they uphold that women are too spineless to stand up to interrogation and would leak out any valuable information to the police. The yakuza have their own distinctive way of making amends after an error, called "Yubizume." Yubizume involves chopping off the little finger and offering it to the person they are apologizing to, usually someone higher in rank. This was the case of the informant who sup- plied the information to this article. He had fallen in love with the boss's daughter and he had tried to elope in secret. The boss found out via one of his own informants, and the man was forced to yubizume. The boss's senior, who is his second in command, brought a knife and a long piece of white string. He placed the objects in front of the young man. Without hesitation, the young man raised the blade while holding one end of the string between his teeth and the other end with his right hand. He tied it around the base of his little finger on his left hand. The man took a deep breath, and sliced off the tip of his little finger with the knife. After that, he wrapped the finger tip in a towel and offered it to his boss. The boss was silent, mean- ing that he accepted the young man's apology and would allow him to live. However, the young man was forced to leave the group, while the boss's daughter was merely reprimanded. The lion's share of the yakuza's funds comes from gambling, most often from dice games. Each group has its own gambling room, which is usual- ly behind a bar or restaurant. I blinked my eyes. This would explain why the chokahanka room was placed in such an isolated area. Food and drinks are served, but the main purpose is gambling. The gam- blers are chosen by the group. If they do not know them, they cannot gamble. The yakuza do not want the police to know about their business. I put the paper down because the information raised more ques- tions than answers. How was Kunzite chosen by the yakuza? Did this mean that he was involved with the Crimson Fist? Then again, I recalled the steely death glares given to us by the people in the room, especially Beryl, who had been supervising the event. It made me feel like Kunzite and I definitely did not belong there. If that was true, then why didn't anybody make any move to harm either of us? Did Beryl command them to be inactive, or was she merely waiting for a better time to strike? The fact that Beryl was even allowed in the room meant that she had a great deal of power, and that power could only have been handed to her by marriage. The name I had heard the night before, Tanas, could be no less than the boss. To the yakuza, the boss is a god, the only force they worship. Somehow, through a lot of fancy footwork, Beryl now commanded that insidious power. If Beryl were simple-minded, she would have been killed a long time ago. One look into her eyes told me that she was anything but simple. I thought briefly about leaving town, but then a wan, ghost of a smile appeared on my lips. Venus is a celebrity, not Minako Aino. In the eyes of the media, Minako Aino is a nobody; she does not exist. If she does not exist, it would be that much easier for her to dis- appear, like a phantom or a wraith. "I shouldn't have told Danburite that I'd be investigating him," I thought, panic rising rapidly in my chest. "He'll probably tell Kunzite, and the last person I can trust is him." Kunzite's behavior was highly suspect; what kind of man leaves a beautiful woman alone in the dark belly of the beast? What kind of knight would leave his damsel in distress? Kunzite is no white knight; maybe he was a black king, or a shady pawn. Whatever his role might have been, one thing registered in my tumbled-up mind. He was not to be trusted. All coherent thought vanished as a loud, high-pitched sound emanated next to me. The phone was ringing, and in my feverish mind, the coils curled up like a snake waiting to strike. I hardly dared to look at the dialog box on the caller I.D, frightened that the yakuza had flushed me out. Lowering a tentative glance at the I.D., my blood ran cold as the text flashing across the screen of my caller I.D. confirmed my worst fears. It was Kunzite. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~Author's Note: The information on the yakuza was taken from a website: http://members.tripod.com/~orgcrime/japgangint.htm and the author of the article is Miyuki I. Sundara, an anthropology student. I have altered some words and information slightly, and all names have been either altered or removed from the article. The story about the informant has been changed slightly to fit the context of this story. To my knowledge, the article is not copyrighted, but just to be on the safe side, I'll list my source. The last thing I need is the mafia, or even worse, a lawyer, on my case.