Ryan Plut

Hiro, disguised as the murdered detective Kondo, went out on deck and looked the ship over. It was a handsome vessel indeed, despite being nearly half a century old, and he thought the auction winner was going to be a lucky man, personally getting a veritable fortune when it was scrapped.

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     And then he paused, as a scheme unfolded in his mind: it all became crystal clear in a flash, down to the smallest detail! Retrieving the letter he re-read it: nowhere in this letter was mentioned the name of the auction winner, a stroke of luck indeed! But it did mention that he had been given legal power to sign over the ship at delivery.

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     But, what if the ship never made it there? What if, somehow, it could be made to “disappear”? Not sunk or scuttled, but under new ownership: himself. He could be the new owner of this ship, and be rewarded with the payment for selling ship and cargo to a different ship-breaker. He racked his brain to come up with a shipyard on the west coast of Japan, and remembered from reading in that engineering magazine the name of a yard that had submitted a bid not substantial enough to win the auction, and so had been disqualified from the competition.

He found an expensive fountain pen. Carefully he drew lines through the original destination city and shipyard, obliterating it, and then above it wrote, in Japanese, Shioya Shipyard, Kanazawa, Ishikawa prefecture.

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* * *

​     The customs men were waiting for them, and boarded the Awa Maru. Sunrise revealed a pretty city backed by the Japanese Alps. Kanazawa had been spared destruction by air raids during the war, so was actually quite pretty. The sakura trees had budded out, with some beginning to bloom much later here than at cities further south.

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     With Suki acting as translator, Reggie immediately surrendered his revolver and ammunition, asked for a receipt and was given one. He showed his list of passengers and satisfactorily explained the deaths of the Yoshiro family, then gave to the customs officials a duplicate copy of the list. Suki told Reggie the customs men were ordering the crew to assemble in the main saloon: everybody was to form two lines, of men and women, and were to step into the galley one at a time to strip to their underwear and be checked for tattoos, which are not allowed in Japan.

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     When it was the captain’s turn he stepped into the galley, removed his shirt and dropped his trousers. Reggie had no tattoos. The customs men ticked him off their clipboard list and told him to dress and exit. As he buttoned up his shirt, Kondo stepped into the room and showed an onward steamer ticket, and handed over a New Zealand passport. This was returned without comment. He was waved through without stripping, only patted down for weapons. When Reggie questioned this, the customs officials told him the reason was that he’s a New Zealand Maori, and Japan respects that nation’s aboriginal culture.

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     As the members of the Chinese crew exited the galley, Reggie stood ready and paid off each man, giving him his onward ticket and telling each he was on his own. He did the same with the Canadians, but reminded them the Liberty Ship E. A. Christensen would leave Yokohama for Victoria on the 23rd of May and not to miss it.

The captain asked Kondo what he was going to do now.

 

     Kondo replied, “It’s the Sakura Matsuri in a week, that’s the annual ‘cherry blossom festival’ and I think I’ll go to Kyoto, since it’s really the best place to see it.”

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     Suki was waiting nearby, overheard his remark and agreed with him. “Kondo, since you’re going, can we go with you? I mean Gene and myself, and Reggie? Gene will get such a kick out of it.”

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     “Sure, I don’t see why not,” he replied.

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     Next it was the turn of the passengers to go through their own inspection. Reggie stood ready at the head of the gangplank with his briefcase, doling out an equal stipend of yen to each adult, and wished each “Good luck!” as they passed. Mr and Mrs Harris with their daughter paused and asked the captain what his plans were, and he told them of the cherry blossom festival in one week, at Kyoto.

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     Once the passengers had dispersed, Kondo said he had to go to the office and legally transfer the ship over to the shipyard. He asked Suki, Gene, and Reggie to wait for him on the quay, and take care of his luggage, as this would only take a half hour. He collected from the captain the keys, all the paperwork concerning the Awa Maru, the logbook, bill of lading, and record of gross tonnage. Because this shipyard had only just begun doing business, the office was a simple shack in a bare plot of land next the harbour, the only equipment a pair of mobile tracked cranes.

 

     In the office Kondo sat in a chair across a desk from the yard owner, a man eager to make his mark in the business. They spoke only in Japanese during these negotiations. He began by expansively introducing himself as “a representative of the owner of the ship”, and continued in that vein. “So, the owner had intended to have his ship scrapped at another yard, but they had a falling out, you see. I’m sure you know how such a thing can happen in these economic times,” Kondo said.

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     “Yes, yes, these times are very troubled.”

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     “The owner wishes to have his ship scrapped at a yard where he can be assured to get a good return on his investment, and he’s instructed me to approach you, as you are new to this industry and possibly eager to establish yourself.”

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     “Your master is wise in this regard. Tell me, how can I be assured your offer is trustworthy?” Kondo produced the letter and showed it to the man, briefly. “I see. You are indeed the legal representative acting for the owner. Who is the owner of this ship?”

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     “Well, he wishes to remain anonymous, but as his representative I can tell you his given name is ‘Hiro’. I have here the ship’s papers, and you can see for yourself the total tonnage to be scrapped.” The man perused the documents, then spent some minutes punching some numbers into a desk adding machine as he pulled down on it’s handle, then ripped off the paper tape.

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     “Hmm. Shall we go have a look at your cargo?” the yard man asked. The two of them crossed the yard, Kondo not forgetting to comment on how bare of activity it seemed, to the ship where they viewed each full hold, then returned to the office. The man made more calculations on his machine, then wrote a figure on a slip of paper and pushed it across the desk. “I can offer you this many yen per metric tonne for the lot, ship and cargo, and not a sen more,” he said, “otherwise, such an undertaking is not worth the trouble.”

The man clarified his point: “In most industries, our government sets the ‘official price’ substantially below the ‘market-clearing price’. If the legal price is set below the market price, shortages ensue, and in many sectors buyers can’t locate a supplier willing to sell. In my sector, for instance, if a company orders steel they can expect a half-year delay. Then there’s the costs of labour, and insurance, and of course taxes to be considered, and the government always claims its share, and then —”

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     Kondo reviewed the slip of paper. “Seems fair,” he remarked.

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     “It does? … I mean it does!” the man corrected himself. Taking a document from a drawer he filled in the amount then presented a pen to Kondo and asked him to sign over the vessel to him. Kondo did, with a flourish.

Kondo held out a business card with both hands.

 

     “This is the bank account details for ‘Hiro’, the owner, and you’re welcome to verify these. We will accept a wire transfer to this account, today if possible, as I have other business to conduct in Osaka that requires these funds by next week.” The man took the card and dialled the bank. After a brief conversation he seemed satisfied, then hung up and re-dialled his own bank and repeated the details on the card. He hung up. They both stood.

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     “You have just guaranteed the initial success of my business. The funds will be in Mister Hiro’s account by tomorrow evening. It has been a pleasure doing business with you!” he said, and they bowed to each other.

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     As he returned to the group waiting on the quay, Kondo thought, Well, that went exactly as I’d planned. I am now richer than I have ever been in my entire life!