Tokyo, 1991: Starting as a bank clerk

Chapter 113 The Target Appears [Thirty-three Chapters, Requesting Monthly Tickets]

After he finished speaking, there was a two-second silence in the small conference room.

Masakazu Yamada put down his pencil, looked up at the people present, and slowly said, "The plan can be carried out, but the division of labor must be clear."

"Chihaya, you stay at the bank."

Chihaya Yuri raised her eyes.

"Should I stay behind?"

"right."

Masakazu Yamada nodded: "You'll be in charge of back-end coordination. Once we have results on our end, the security, fax, and legal confirmations will all depend on you getting through immediately."

He paused.

"If Kajiwara doesn't take the bait, we need to have a backup plan. Your presence at the bank is more important than going to Rokko with us."

Chihaya Yuri remained silent for a moment, then nodded.

"clear."

Masakazu Yamada turned his head and looked at the other four people.

"Me, Kiryu, Arima, Sasaki, the four of us went to Rokko Club."

"Arima will be in charge of observing the movements inside the club, Sasaki will be in charge of the parking lot and communication at the entrances and exits, and Kiryu will be with me to guard the key positions."

Kenta Sasaki sat up straight instinctively: "Section Chief, why is the snake so startled?"

Kiryu Yaya raised his hand: "Let Matsushita Saeko make the call."

All eyes turned to him.

Kiryu Yaya explained calmly, "The people from the National Tax Agency and the bank just left Abeno last night, and Kajiwara Masazo is already in a state of panic. She called and said..."

"The tax officials came to see me again today, subtly asking about the golf club you frequent, and they also mentioned membership lockers and private lockers."

"Just this one sentence is enough."

"If Kajiwara Masazo really hid something in the club, he definitely won't be able to sit still tonight."

Arima Kishou adjusted his glasses and said in a low voice, "That makes sense."

"From Kajiwara's perspective, Abeno's side has been exposed, so the club is no longer safe. The more he thinks he's smart, the more he'll try to get the money himself before the bank and the national tax bureau."

Kenta Sasaki swallowed hard. "What if he sends someone else?"

Kiryu Yaya shook his head.

"Unlikely. How could he entrust something so important to someone else? Besides, club members usually keep their lockers, keys, and passwords themselves."

Masakazu Yamada added in a deep voice, "Moreover, the Rokko Club has now been transferred to the Kansai Urban Development Corporation and could be closed for construction at any time. Masazō Kajiwara knows that if he doesn't go now, it will be even harder to get it later."

"So he will most likely go in person tonight."

At this point, the atmosphere in the meeting room had completely settled.

Chihaya Yuri stood up: "Security, legal drafting, and duty general affairs staff, I'll get things going at the bank first. If you manage to catch them, the branch can get the follow-up procedures started within five minutes."

Masakazu Yamada nodded: "Thank you."

5:20 PM.

Abeno.

Saeko Matsushita stood in front of the telephone by the entrance hall, her fingers trembling slightly.

The old lady, Matsushita, stood not far away, her arms crossed over her chest, her face still pale.

"beat."

"It's come to this point, there's no use in softening your heart now."

Saeko Matsushita bit her lip and finally dialed the number.

The phone rang a few times before being answered.

"Feed?"

Kajiwara Masazō's voice came through the receiver, clearly showing his impatience.

"The true, the true teachings—"

Saeko Matsushita's voice already carried a hint of genuine panic.

"Just now—someone came looking for me again."

97

There was a pause on the other end of the phone.

"Who?"

"I don't know if it was someone from the State Taxation Administration or someone from the bank—they didn't come in, but they kept asking the neighbors downstairs where you usually go and if you've been to any clubs lately."

"They also mentioned things like—membership lockers, private lockers, etc."

"Zhengzang, I'm so scared. Do they already know something?"

The phone went silent instantly.

The next second, Kajiwara Shozo's voice clearly changed: "What did you say? They mentioned the club?"

"Yes, yes—it's the one with the sixth name—that's what I heard—"

As Matsushita Saeko spoke, she subconsciously glanced at her mother beside her.

The old lady Matsushita nodded slightly with a cold expression, signaling her to continue.

"They said they might come again tomorrow—Shozo, what should I do?"

There was a full three seconds of silence on the other end of the phone.

Then, Kajiwara Masazō lowered his voice: "Don't do anything, don't go anywhere, and don't answer any more calls from strangers."

"I'll handle it."

After saying that, the phone was abruptly hung up.

Saeko Matsushita held the receiver, leaning against the wall as if all her strength had been drained, her palms sweaty.

It's 6:30 in the evening.

At the foot of Mount Rokkyo, the former Rokkyo Golf Club.

The sky had darkened, and a mountain breeze blew through the fairways and woods, carrying a slightly damp and chilly scent of grass and trees.

The fairways, which were once neatly trimmed, have not been maintained for some time, and the grass is now of varying shades.

A white sign with black lettering hangs in front of the clubhouse:

Kansai Urban Development Co., Ltd.

This facility is about to enter the redevelopment preparation phase.

[Please complete the removal of old members' lockers and personal belongings this month.]

A dark blue Toyota was parked on the tree-lined road opposite the clubhouse.

Inside the car, Masakazu Yamada glanced down at his watch.

"Six thirty-two."

Kiryu Yaya sat in the passenger seat, his gaze fixed on the entrance of the clubhouse.

Arima Kishou and Sasaki Kenta had already gone in ahead of time.

The two were dressed in casual clothes and wore masks, disguising themselves as ordinary visitors who had come to handle the follow-up procedures for members, and sat in the rest area on the first floor of the clubhouse waiting.

Masakazu Yamada lowered the car window a little to let the mountain breeze in.

"Kiryu."

"Wait until he gets his hands on the item before you make your move."

"clear."

Kiryu Yaya nodded slightly, his eyes never leaving the entrance of the club.

the other side.

The old factory of Higashi-Osaka Seiko.

Kajiwara Masazō sat in his office, the cigarette in his hand already burned down to the filter.

After the call ended, he remained silent for five minutes.

The quieter it was, the uglier his expression became.

club.

Membership locker.

Have they already reached this point?

No, not necessarily.

Perhaps Saeko just misheard.

It was probably just something someone from the State Taxation Administration mentioned casually.

But what if it's true?

Kajiwara Masazō looked out the window at the darkening sky, a thin layer of sweat slowly seeping from his forehead.

Once they found out about Abeno's house, that was that.

Anyway, it was bought in Saeko's name.

They can't trace it back to him.

But Rokka Club is different.

Inside were Swiss bank passbooks, gold custody certificates, and photocopies of agreements for real estate held in the names of others.

Thinking of this, Kajiwara Masazō suddenly closed his eyes.

That was something he absolutely couldn't let anyone see.

Kajiwara Masazou suddenly stood up, grabbed his coat and car keys, and went straight downstairs.

That handbag can no longer be left there.

He didn't call a driver or notify anyone.

This is something you have to do yourself.

The white Toyota Crown roared to life, its headlights sweeping across the uneven concrete ground in front of the factory, and sped off toward Rokkaku.

7:05 PM.

The lounge area on the first floor of the clubhouse.

Kenta Sasaki held a cup of coffee that had long since gone cold, his eyes glancing towards the sip from time to time.

He's usually so loud and boisterous, but he's unusually quiet right now, clearly aware of the importance of what's happening today.

Arima Kishou sat diagonally opposite him, holding a club brochure open in his hand, as if he were seriously studying the fairway layout.

In fact, he kept glancing at the entrance to the locker area out of the corner of his eye.

Just then, the sound of tires rolling over gravel came from the doorway.

Kenta Sasaki's fingers tightened suddenly.

The next second, the glass door was pushed open.

Kajiwara Masazō has come in.

Instead of wearing the wrinkled knitwear he wore at the factory today, he changed into a dark jacket and casual pants, and combed his hair back, as if trying to make himself look like an ordinary old member who came to tidy up his belongings.

But he was moving too fast.

It's obvious he has something to hide.

Arima Kishou gently pressed the brochure down and lowered his voice: "Target spotted."

Kenta Sasaki discreetly reached into his pocket and pressed the short call button on his pager.

Inside the car outside.

Upon hearing the notification tone, Masakazu Yamada's gaze suddenly darkened.

"They're here."

Kiryu Yaya had already opened the car door.

"Don't go in yet."

Masakazu Yamada lowered his voice.

"Let him get his things first."

The two walked quickly to the floor-to-ceiling window on the side of the clubhouse. From this angle, they could just see a small section of the entrance to the locker corridor.

Meanwhile, Kajiwara Shozo had already signed his name at the front desk.

The staff member on duty seemed to know him well, and simply said, "Please take care of your personal belongings as soon as possible, the construction team will be arriving next week."

Kajiwara Masazō forced a smile and walked towards the locker area without turning his head.

His pace quickened.

They quickly disappeared around the corner.

five minutes.

ten minutes.

No one outside moved.

Kajiwara Masazō reappeared in the twelfth minute.

He now held a black handbag.

It wasn't big, it was old, and it looked like an ordinary briefcase, but Kajiwara Masazō treasured it.

Masakazu Yamada let out a soft breath.

"Let's do it."