The Kizuna Coast: A Rei Shimura Mystery (Rei Shimura Mysteries Book 11) Read Online Free PDF Page A

could be placed immediately at a good hospital. I’m sure we can arrange for one of his friends or relatives to meet him—”
    “But that’s not what he wants,” I protested. “He specifically asked me to help him. I’ve got to respect that.”
    Michael sipped his beer and took a long look at me. He shook his head and said, “Is that because he’s your
sempai
?”
    I shook my head. “No. I wouldn’t call him that, although of course he is my
sensei
: teacher of the most important things I learned about Japanese furniture and art. But really, I want to go because of what he means to me. And he has no children or other relatives that I could find.”
    “You mean—he’s completely alone? That’s got to be rough.”
    “Well, he’s got this new assistant—a young woman who picked up the phone a few times when I’ve rung the store in the last year. We never really chatted, and I don’t know her name. But maybe something’s up with her. He wouldn’t have asked me to come get him if he could have asked her.”
    “She wasn’t answering the phone at the store when you rang,” Michael said, and I nodded.
    “I wish I could just say to him, ‘I’m so happy you’re alive. I’ll see you in Tokyo on my next trip.’ But something inside me is saying I have to help him. He has this wordless way of communicating with me. We are that close.” The tears I’d tried to hold back started. I cried silently, and Michael put his arm around me.
    “I’m so sorry,” he said softly.
    I gulped hard. “This morning, before I knew whether he was alive, I researched flight possibilities between Hawaii and Japan. It turns out Narita and Haneda Airports aren’t even open for arrivals.”
    “Narita might open in a few days, but just to outgoing flights. I wish I could pull strings to squeeze you in on a charter flight with the Red Cross, but the Red Cross groups involved are coming from other Asian countries, not Hawaii.”
    There had to be a way. “I’m going to ask Mr. Pierce tomorrow if he could spare me for two weeks.”
    Michael stared out at a cresting wave. “If you were to go, you wouldn’t be able to guarantee a two-week turnaround. Ewa Landing is eighty percent built, and the goal is to be finished in what, six weeks?”
    “That’s where you could help me,” I said. “We’re at the stage that’s just checking up on the contractors, pushing them along. They usually work till seven—you could follow up on things for me when you come back from work.”
    “You’ve thought of everything.” Michael turned away from the crashing wave to regard me with a pained expression.
    “Well, not
everything
. I can’t figure out how to get a plane seat. But I’ve got to go. Mr. Ishida didn’t live through World War II and seventy lonely years afterward to get stuck in a tsunami zone without anyone to help.”
    Michael stared out at the endless Pacific and didn’t say anything. His MO was to get quiet when he was stressed.
    “Do you think it’s irrational for me to go?” I blurted, unable to bear the stillness.
    “I think it’s risky. But I understand that you love him, and love trumps risk.” Michael shot a sidelong glance at me. “I was actually thinking about what you’d need in a tsunami zone. The water purification tablets from my last disaster training are still good. And I have an excellent sleeping bag and a lightweight pad to go under—”
    I traded my chair for his lap and, after kissing Michael deeply, I said, “Thank you for this. But I still have the problem of no flight to Japan. We probably can’t pull this off.”
    “I don’t know about that. Another option is flying to Korea, and then get yourself to Japan—”
    “Of course,” I exclaimed. Michael had done covert work in South Korea for many years; the country was set as deeply in his heart as Japan was in mine. “Once I reach Korea, it’s not too far to western Japan by plane or ferry. I can probably figure it out when I’m