pped through the files some more until I found an account that caught my eye. Two years ago, Ango went to Europe for business after he had been in the Mafia for a year and gained their trust. His objective was to close a deal with a local stolen car broker. However, Ango ceased communication for those two months for unknown reasons. He didn’t seem any different once he returned, and he explained that some sort of misunderstanding with a local organization had led to his getting pursued as a criminal. And his story checked out, too. After looking into it, I discovered there actually was a mass arrest in Europe of organizations that smuggled stolen vehicles. The Port Mafia came to the conclusion that Ango must have gotten caught up in that, so no more questions were asked of him.
But in retrospect, it was hard to believe that Ango was on the run for two months because he couldn’t clear up such a simple misunderstanding. Nobody could confirm what Ango did during that period in Europe. With what I learned, I could only assume he used this time to meet with Mimic and come to some sort of deal—in other words, as a double agent. That would’ve meant Mimic had already been laying the groundwork to attack the Port Mafia from that moment on.
I closed the files, then sank deep into my thoughts to meditate. The room was dead silent. The only noises I heard were the sounds of passing cars, like a film far away. Something was off. Something about this scenario bothered me. Ango joined the Mafia, then secretly communicated with Mimic. From there, he waited for just the right time for both syndicates to clash. It was too perfect, like two computers playing chess. There were no signs of any unexpected actions, no curveballs…and that conversely made me uneasy.
I surveyed the room, thinking back to how Ango used to work here. That day, he had been in the same spot I was in at that very moment. Ango had been sitting in the chair with his elbows on the desk, his expression glum as he’d stared at me in silence.
This was where we first met. Ango was arrogant back then. He practically oozed displeasure, the bored expression on his face plainly illustrating that he didn’t feel he belonged in a place like this. I thought back to the way he’d looked at me. What did he say to me when we first met again? I believe it was…
“Could you please not get any closer? You smell,” he said with disgust and his elbows still on the desk. Dazai and I couldn’t even say a word as we stood stock-still by the door. An awkward silence descended over the hidden room.
I had heard around that this young man was the new guy, Ango Sakaguchi, but this was the first time I was actually meeting him. Dazai and I exchanged glances. We did indeed smell terrible. After all, we were on our way back from a mission. We must’ve reeked of oil, rust, and blood. My nose had given up sending signals to my brain a long time ago.
It was the middle of the Dragon’s Head Conflict. There was nary a night when you didn’t hear gunfire, and practically every drop of sewage water had been tainted with blood. The bodies of underground syndicate members piled up in every corner of the city. Even the MP couldn’t put a stop to it all, never mind come up with the manpower to inspect the crime scenes.
Dazai and I were given orders to clean up the fallen Port Mafia members’ bodies. We would photograph the corpses, then take their possessions back with us. We couldn’t afford to have the police take anything as evidence in their attempt to curb organized crime.
Nevertheless, it wasn’t a job you could afford to obsess over too much in the throes of war. What’s more, all the gunfights took place at the Yokohama Settlement’s waste-disposal site. That was where sludge and industrial waste oil were typically dumped illegally, and the police never went anywhere near it, let alone the neighboring residents.
And that was why Dazai and I were covered in oil and mud. The lingering stench was enough to send a stray cat on the other side of town running in the opposite direction.
At one point during our mission, Dazai had told me with an uncomfortable grimace, “It smells so bad that I want to cut my nose off.”
Glancing at us, Ango spoke bluntly. “Put their belongings on my desk, then stand back. Don’t open your mouth unless I ask you something.”
We did as we were told.
“You’re the new guy, right?” Dazai piped up. “Sorry, but can I use your shower? As you so politely pointed out, we smell awful—”
“I told you to keep quiet.”
Ango cut Dazai off, causing him to fall silent with his mouth agape. The other half of the sentence Ango had wrested from him idly hung in the air.
Regardless of how young he may have looked, Dazai was the leading candidate for the next executive. While Ango may have been a new hire at the accounting firm, that didn’t excuse his behavior.
He pulled the items out of the bags we gave him and began to inspect them one by one. IDs, keys, phones, knives, guns, pictures—he checked each item while recording them in his account book.
I had no idea what Ango was doing. I fully believed the evidence would be incinerated after checking them off with the names of the deceased. However, the new guy was inspecting each and every item, writing them down. Just what was he doing?
“What are you doing?” My curiosity got the best of me.
“How many times do I have to ask you to be quiet?” Ango replied as his pencil glided over the notepad. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m creating logs, of course.”
“I see,” I replied.
“Tell us your name!” Dazai suddenly yelled, causing me to jump in surprise. Ango’s eyes flicked over toward Dazai. Then, after a few moments of silence, he replied, “Ango…Sakaguchi.”
“Heh-heh-heh-heh…” Dazai began to chuckle, smiling from ear to ear for some reason.
“…What’s with the nauseating laugh?”
“You’re quite the interesting fellow, Ango. Doing that isn’t going to make the boss happy. In fact, it’s just going to cost more money and create extra work, never mind help you move up in the ranks.”
“Are you saying you know what I’m doing?” Ango asked with more than a hint of surprise on his face.
“You’re making records of the lives of the deceased. Am I right?”
Ango was caught off guard, his eyes wide in shock as if he’d just realized Dazai was there.