a very expensive restaurant.”
“Expensive doesn’t always mean good,” Cain replied. He wasn’t trying to be dismissive; he was just managing his expectations.
“Hakugei means ‘white whale.’ It’s illegal now in Japan, but my father told me this restaurant secretly sells it. I’ve never had it before, but I’m told it’s very tasty.”
“Whale doesn’t seem very appetizing to me, Tanaka. Sounds fatty and rubbery. How about a steak house?”
“There will be sake, too. Lots of it.”
Cain thought it over. “Okay, but I ain’t staying at a capsule hotel afterward again. Been there, done that.”
“Got the T-shirt?” Tanaka smiled.
Cain laughed. “I love it when you get American humor.”
“Hakugei—it’s a deal.” Tanaka shook Cain’s hand. “When should I make the reservation?”
“Friday night’s always a good time to blow off some steam.”
Chapter 48
“Let’s shut it down,” Cain said to Tanaka that Friday evening after they had been working for more than ten hours.
“I’ve been looking forward to Hakugei all week,” Tanaka said with a big grin.
“This whale you keep droning on and on about must be the best in the world.”
“Are you going to at least try it?” Tanaka asked.
“Which is better? Eel or whale?”
“Both are delicious,” he said. “But I prefer whale.”
“Well, I’m going to have to drink a lot of sake before I start eating raw whale,” Cain said as they headed out of the office.
The restaurant was a stone building with bamboo and wooden accents. The entryway was illuminated by amber lighting. The hostess, who was dressed like a geisha, greeted them upon entry. She provided Cain and Tanaka with slippers. They quickly put them on and trailed the hostess as she led them to their table. It was an antique solid-wood table that sat about a foot above a traditional tatami mat. Cain and Tanaka kneeled on the soft but firm mat, which was made of rice straw.
A few moments later, a group of customers walked in. Cain saw the manager covertly slide his finger down his cheek to signal one of the other well-dressed staffers.
Tanaka was reading the menu and did not see the exchange, so Cain asked him what it meant.
“They are realtors,” Tanaka said.
“Are you telling me those people sell houses?”
“No.” Tanaka lowered his voice. “Realtors is a slang word for yakuza because they own so much real estate, and they use the property to hide their illegal money legitimately. Or so I’m told by my father.”
“What’s the mafia doing in here?”
“Same reason other Japanese come here: it’s a place for rich people to eat expensive and illegal food. It is also a status symbol.”
“And to think,” Cain said, “our American mafia just likes spaghetti with meatballs.”
Tanaka laughed. “I’m sure yakuza like spaghetti with meatballs, too. And they probably like the Godfather movie as well.” Tanaka did his best Marlon Brando impression: “I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse.”
“If your house is as small as my apartment, a horse’s head wouldn’t even fit!” Cain said with a half smile. “On second thought, it wouldn’t even fit on the mattress in my apartment!”
Cain’s apartment, one of over four hundred located in an apartment complex that towered over downtown Yokohama, was furnished, but like most Japanese apartments, it was tiny. Cain reckoned it was only about five hundred square feet. His refrigerator resembled a college dorm fridge, and his single bed was so small his feet dangled off the end. So Cain had thrown his mattress on the floor and slept there. The stove and oven dials were all in Japanese, so he never used them. His favorite room was the bathroom. It was the most utilitarian. The toilet seat was heated, and the shower and a small washer-dryer combo were next to it. There were several complicated panels that controlled everything, but Cain didn’t know what half the buttons did.
Tanaka raised his sake cup. “To Japanese life.”
“Kanpai,” Cain replied.
They drank warm sake as their elite meals were delivered on white plates with wasabi on the side.
Cain used his hashi to pick up a piece of food, dipped it in wasabi, and started chewing it. “What is this?” He continued chewing the fatty meat. “Is this the whale you’ve been talking about? It tastes like boiled beef!”
“It is the liver of the fugu.”
“Come on, Tanaka. I’m not interested in experimenting with my taste buds tonight. I just want a good meal after all the hard work we’ve been doing.”
“The liver of the fugu is the most poisonous—”
“The most poisonous!” Cain put his napkin to his mouth and subtly spit