Chapter 27Every car was in use or already gone, so Hiroshi had to take a taxi to the scene. The driver kept heading down long, straight roads lined by chain-link fences and stacks of shipping containers. Kudzu, dead for the winter, curled up in long brown swirls over the tall fences and empty roadside tracts.
Hiroshi rolled down his window. The salt smell of the ocean was mixed with oil and metal and seaweed. He leaned over the seat to talk to the driver. “Can you see where that light is coming from?”
“That’s over by the restaurant area.”
“That looks like police lights to me.”
“Maybe,” the driver said, and headed away from the industrial area toward a development project of chic offices and spacious restaurants, the new face of Shinagawa. A policeman stood at the corner redirecting tra
