Diamond Solitaire pd-2 Read online

  Yamagata plainly didn’t agree. Timing is fundamental to sumo wrestling and for him the fight wasn’t over yet The huge man moved at astonishing speed before Diamond had even got the last words out. He went straight to the bed in the end bay. It was a good thing it was unoccupied, because Yamagata tucked his hands underneath, tipped it over, grabbed the underside and lifted the entire thing as if it were polystyrene. In the same forward movement he charged at the window frame and crushed the bed against it with tremendous force. Such was the impact that the entire casement and a section of wall collapsed at the first contact, leaving a gap framed by splintered wood and plaster. The rage, the humiliation of the last few minutes was being expelled in one eruption of action.

  Yamagata almost fell across the bed when it landed upside down in a flower border outside, but he just succeeded in staying upright and clambering over it. His kimono was half off one shoulder, so he ripped it from his body without shifting his gaze from the focus of his anger.

  The car was moving off, but it would have to pass Yamagata on the narrow road.

  He stooped, legs astride, rubbing his hands, preparing to meet the car as if it were a rival in the wrestling ring. He actually indulged in some intimidatory action. He placed his left hand across his heart, stretched out his right, raised his right leg high in the shiko movement and slammed it down on the road.

  There wasn’t time to complete the ritual. The car was coming at him. Hunkering low again, he waited for the crunch. There was no question of giving way to two tons of automobile. Much more than his self-esteem was at stake.

  With exquisite timing, he launched himself straight at the car at the moment it would have smashed into his legs. His huge body was visible rising over the bonnet in a movement that looked like a dive at the windscreen. The effect was made more spectacular by the car’s acceleration, because all he needed to do was dip his torso and jump as the bonnet moved underneath him. His head shattered the windscreen and hit the driver with tremendous impact. The car veered off the road and smashed against the speed limit sign.

  Peter Diamond was standing in a dust cloud of plaster, mesmerized by what he had just witnessed. Whether Yamagata had survived, he couldn’t tell. The wresder’s head and torso were entirely inside the car and the rest of him lay on the bonnet, ominously still.

  Diamond shook himself out of the trancelike state and was preparing to clamber over the rubble to give help when there was a warning shout from behind, more of a scream than anything intelligible. Just in time he glanced behind and saw Leapman’s other henchman charging towards him with the knife raised to strike.

  Diamond was no sumo wrestler. Nor was he particularly fit. His right arm still ached from the beating he’d had in New York. But he still had quick reactions and his police training had given him some elementary judo. Until now he’d never been required to use the shoulder throw in a real fight. It was quite a contortion to twist sufficiently to grab the man’s right sleeve and left lapel without being stabbed, but he succeeded. He bent his knees to get under his attacker’s center of gravity, and gave a terrific tug. The man somersaulted over his back and thumped the ground heavily. Not bad for an amateur. Diamond grabbed the knife, but there was no need because the man was out cold.

  The shout must have come from the nurse they’d seen attending to one of the coma patients. Now she was running straight past Diamond to the car. He followed.

  One of the rear doors opened and Leapman climbed out, scattering fragments of broken windscreen from his clothes. Seeing the knife in Diamond’s hand, he raised his arms. He was not the sort to fight for himself. Diamond ordered him to lie facedown on the verge.

  Naomi got out next, making a whimpering sound, in some distress, but not visibly injured. Her mother followed and held her Yamagata’s body was lacerated extensively, but to Diamond’s immense relief, he began to move. He must have been stunned for a while, and no wonder. Slowly but without assistance he withdrew his bleeding torso from the front of the car. Astride the heavily dented bonnet he sat tidying his hair.

  The nurse had been examining the man in the driver’s seat, feeling for a pulse. Presently she stood back and shook her head. From the look of him, his neck must have been broken. He’d taken the full impact of Yamagata’s head.

  Hospital staff rapidly appeared from all sides, some just to watch or take pictures-for a Japanese is never far from his camera-and others ready to help.

  Diamond stooped and picked up one of Yamagata’s flip-flop sandals, or bedi, lost or discarded in the action. He looked for the other and found it. A doctor who spoke English made himself known to Diamond and arranged for the security staff to take charge of Leapman and the surviving henchman, who was regaining consciousness. The police were called.

  The sightseers surrounded Yamagata until a nurse persuaded him to remove himself from the car bonnet and go for treatment. He was extensively marked, but the cuts were superficial. In a few days there would be no scars. Diamond eased a path through the admirers and handed the flip-flops to their owner. He would have liked to apologize for the way he’d ranted and tried to break free. Instead, he bowed. They both bowed. Then Yamagata made a generous gesture. First, he pointed to the henchman being helped to his feet by a security man and then he tapped Diamond’s chest with his forefinger, nodding at the same time as if to express approval. He bowed again and with a sense of ceremony returned the flip-flops to Diamond. Words weren’t required. There was actually a scattering of applause. Diamond was glad he didn’t have to speak because he couldn’t have trusted his voice at that moment.

  Yamagata looked around. Something still troubled him. He spotted Dr. Masuda standing a short way off, holding Naomi by the hand. He strode across to them, exchanged a bow and a few words and then stooped and lifted the little girl into his arms.

  She looked comfortable. Even contented.

  The cameras clicked.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  “Look at these! Jesus, what do they think I’m going to do?” The handcuffs on Michael Leapman really weren’t necessary, but as the Yokohama police had insisted on this formality when they allowed Diamond to interview him, it was respected. They sat facing each other in leather armchairs in an office belonging to the senior detective, who observed from behind his desk with an interpreter beside him.

  Diamond waited indifferently. He was confident that the protest would pass. If he’d ever seen a man who was ready to talk, it was Leapman, desperately wanting to justify his actions to somebody.

  And the switch to sweet reasonableness was not long in coming. “You know, in a way I’m relieved. I wasn’t in control of my life anymore. Mind if I tell it my way?”

  A nod from Diamond and he was away.

  “I can scarcely believe what an idiot I’ve been. Less than a year ago, I had things pretty well sorted. I was Vice Chairman, on a good salary in a prosperous company, although I have to say I could see the clouds gathering. Manny-the Chairman-wouldn’t admit that we were slipping back in the pharmaceuticals league. He was a great personality, a real nice guy, a terrific manager in his time, but frankly he wasn’t in tune with modern business. It’s a shark pool now and Manny shouldn’t have been there anymore. I know the drug industry. I was ambitious for his job and I expected to get it soon.”

  “Through a boardroom coup?”

  “Right. I had a surefire plan to reverse the slide, but I knew he wouldn’t back it Unknown to Manny, I’d already given the green light to certain research projects that he wasn’t even aware of. Nothing unethical, just things that I considered Manflex should support to stay competitive. I diverted some funds quite legitimately from other projects we were phasing out and when the accounting got a little complex I actually injected some cash from my own pocket. It was an investment, the way I saw it. There was this project in Indianapolis with terrific potential.”

  “Churchward’s?”

  Leapman nodded. “Every drug company in the business was looking for a breakthrough w
ith Alzheimer’s. Alaric Churchward was getting some sensational test results with PDM3.1 was damned sure we had an all-time winner, and I was aiming to torpedo Manny with it I knew he wouldn’t back it without all kinds of guarantees we weren’t ready to supply. The Board was unhappy with Manny and I expected to make my bid for Chairman anytime. When I became boss I could give the drug my backing and turn Manflex into a top company again.”

  “You had support on the Board?”

  “For sure. But they didn’t know about PDM3 yet. That was the ace up my sleeve. I told nobody.”

  “You told the mafia.”

  “I needed money to fund the project More money than I possessed.”

  “But from the mafia?”

  Leapman’s cuffed hands moved apart in a parody of a man gesturing that he’d acted in good faith. “At the beginning I didn’t know they were the mob. They crept up on me. I wanted large injections of cash without questions being asked and I approached one guy I knew from way back, who promised to talk to a venture capital person, and so on. One day a wad of money arrived. I didn’t know it was mafia money until they followed up. Then I found myself talking to Massimo Gatti, who everyone knows is a mafioso.”

  “Yet you didn’t back out at that stage?”

  He glared at Diamond. “You should try backing out on a man like Gatti.”

  “So you were in his pocket”

  “They saw ways of making big bucks on the stock market It was crazy. They set fire to one of the Manflex plants in Italy. Reduced it to ashes. You know why? To depress the market price so they could buy in on favorable terms. I wasn’t a party to that, believe me. I only heard about it later. That was when I realized I was way out of my league.”

  “Did you know at the time that PDM3 was dangerous?”

  “At the time I borrowed the money? Christ, no. What kind of monster do you think I am?”

  “You trusted Professor Churchward?”

  “Sure. He’s a great scientist. Believe me, he wasn’t part of this mess. Okay, he knew there were some ADRs-adverse drug reactions-but he believed they could be kept to a minimum with the right dosage.”

  “When did you find out the truth?”

  “About Jantac? Six or seven months back. By that time, there was no going back.”

  “How did it come to light?”

  “Alaric called me one afternoon with some technical query. He said he was aware that a number of preliminary studies had been started with the compound and not proceeded with. That’s quite usual. Testing new drugs for biological activity can be a long and frustrating process and on top of that you’re sure to have plenty of failures trying to discover if they have any medical potential. He wanted to know if there was anything still on file. I promised to run a computer check. I keyed in the chemical formula-”

  “And found the file on Jantac?”

  Leapman remembered and winced. “It was a real kick in the guts. The crucial decisions were made back in 1985, a couple of years before I joined the company. Dr. Masuda had done two years of testing here in Japan in her research into alcoholic comas, using the same compound as PDM3 under the proprietary name of Jantac. I learned that Manny had personally axed the research after Dr. Masuda detected liver damage that was caused by Jantac. The name Jantac was deleted from our list of drugs under research. I was deeply shocked when I learned this. By this time I’d staked my career and my personal savings in the same lousy drug.”

  “Didn’t you inform Churchward?”

  “No.” Leapman shook his head, and it was an expression of regret. “I faxed him some of the other studies I found, but I kept quiet about this Jantac bombshell. I hoped it might not be the serious problem it first appeared to be. Sometimes Manny Flexner was too cautious for bis own good. He took no risks whatsoever with drugs. Every drug has ADRs, and I argued to myself that alcoholism causes liver damage anyway, so maybe those Japanese results wouldn’t show up to the same degree in patients who drank in moderation. Alaric Churchward’s brilliant work on Alzheimer’s didn’t have to be jettisoned just because Manny was so ultracareful.”

  “All right, you rationalized,” said Diamond, becoming impatient. “What did you do about it? Altered the records, for a start.”

  “That was no problem. I could do that sitting in my office and I did.”

  Diamond refrained from pointing out that he should also have gone down to the basement where the old file cards were kept.

  “Computer records are simple to wipe,” Leapman was saying. “But this had a human dimension.”

  Diamond gave a nod. “And you can’t wipe humans so easily.”

  Leapman glared in defiance. “I am not a killer. Sure, I could foresee problems with Dr. Masuda. She was a real risk if she got to hear about PDM3. It was quite possible that she had a grudge against Manflex for what happened. I made some inquiries and learned that after her research was axed she stopped work altogether. She hadn’t gone back since. So I flew to Yokohama to see her.”

  “Independently-without telling the mafia?”

  “Yes. My idea was to buy her goodwill. I’d get her back to work on coma research, using some safe drugs we’d developed recently. Then I would change her file to make it appear that we’d continued to sponsor her without a break. But there was a complication.”

  “Naomi?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The child. Naomi is what I call her.”

  “Ah. I understand. Yes, discovering that the little girl existed was a real shock, and even more so when I found that she was autistic. She needed round-the-clock attention. The only way I could get Dr. Masuda back to work was by finding a surrogate mother. Well, I discussed it with Dr. Masuda. After seven years of caring for a kid who doesn’t respond one bit, she was ready for a break if we could find someone. I agreed to meet the cost. She already knew a woman in the University who’d had a kid who died. She’d wanted to adopt, but she was a single parent and the adoption agencies wouldn’t play ball.”

  “Mrs. Tanaka?”

  “Right. There was no question of letting her adopt, but we were willing to let her care for the kid. In fact, she could take her on a vacation. It worked out quite neatly in theory. Mrs. Tanaka knew the kid a bit. I put up the money for a trip to England, to get-what name did you give her?”

  “Naomi.”

  “��� to get Naomi right away at the time I was planning to unseat Manny Rexner. PDM3 was going to be the resignation issue and it had to be watertight”

  “But why. Why go to so much trouble over a little girl?”

  “Because she was the living proof that Dr. Masuda quit researching in 1985.1 could buy Dr. Masuda’s silence, but I couldn’t explain away the child if someone did some digging.”

  “Who did you fear? Manny?”

  Leapman shook his head. “He was unlikely to make the connection with Jantac, even though he dumped it himself. He wasn’t really a scientist. No, the people I feared were outside the company. The medical press, the stock market analysts, our rivals in the drug industry. They’re damned quick in dredging up anything adverse they can find on a new drug. Nothing was published on Jantac, but somebody somewhere could have heard a whisper.”

  “So you sent Mrs. Tanaka to London with Naomi.”

  “It seemed like a neat solution, but she fucked up everything. Everything. Maybe those adoption agencies knew something, because Mrs. Tanaka couldn’t cope. An autistic child was all too much, and one day she panicked and abandoned her in Harrods. The next thing it was ail over the British press and on TV. It was a news story. There was even an item in the New York Times. Far from hushing up the child’s existence, we’d got it all over the media. Our billion-dollar project was about to blow up in our faces, all because of one small girl.”

  “But nobody knew the child’s identity,” Diamond reminded him.

  Leapman erupted. “For God’s sake! Every tabloid in England and Japan wanted to know who the dumb kid in Harrods was. It was a great human interest story.
Our papers carried it. The only question was which smart-ass reporter would be the first to trace her mother.”

  “Through Mrs. Tanaka? You’re telling me that’s why Mrs. Tanaka had to be murdered?”

  “Listen, I was facing annihilation myself. Soon as one of those guys got to Mrs. Tanaka she would blow the whole project. She’d tell them about the arrangement with Dr. Masuda. The connection with Manflex would be out in the open. All those wiseguys looking for some flaw in PDM3 would be alerted. I had to act fast, and I couldn’t do it alone.”

  “So you explained the problem to your mafia friends and they put out a contract on Mrs. Tanaka.”

  “Not my friends. And I was never a party to murder,”

  “But you kept them informed. She must have got in touch with you before she flew to New York with Naomi.”

  “Listen, you’ve got to understand that these people were breathing down my neck. When Manny committed suicide and nominated David to succeed him, my plans went-”

  “Out of the window?” said Diamond with the suggestion of a smile, but he could hardly have expected a laugh from Leapman at this point in his story and he didn’t get one.

  “I was horrified when I heard what they did to Mrs. Tanaka. Appalled. And, you know, first of all, I thought the kid must be dead as well.”

  “I never heard of the mafia killing a child.”

  “Well, no.”

  “But they didn’t object to throwing me in the Hudson and leaving me for dead,” Diamond added.

  “You were too close to the truth. When you fixed that meeting with David Flexner, they had to act.”

  “Yes, how was that done? Am I right in thinking Flexner’s room was bugged and you tipped off your mafia friends?”

  “Listen, by that time, I was being threatened too. Those people don’t forgive anything.”

  “But that’s how it was done?”

  “Essentially, yes.” He hesitated. “Should I apologize?”

  Diamond shrugged. He could be magnanimous now. “And what exactly was the purpose of coming here to Yokohama?”