The Gatekeeper's Son by C.R. Fladmark

Author:C.R. Fladmark [Fladmark, C.R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: The Shokunin Publishing Company
Published: 2014-10-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

21

We flew to Vancouver and then transferred to a Japan Airlines Boeing 747 for the long flight to Narita Airport, outside Tokyo. As the jet circled over snowcapped mountains north of the city and began to climb out over the Pacific, I couldn’t help but feel I was leaving all that I knew behind.

We sat next to each other in first class. Our seats were like cocoons, offering immense privacy and luxury but little opportunity for conversation. That was fine by me, since I didn’t feel like talking, and Okaasan had transformed her seat into a bed as soon as we reached cruising altitude. She slept through most of the flight while I zoned out with one movie after another.

The immigration hall at Narita Airport was huge but squat, the ceiling oddly low for its width. It felt as confining as a concrete bunker and was about as attractive. The single line marked for foreigners was long, winding back and forth between black ropes, but Okaasan headed straight for the booths reserved for Japanese citizens—their lines were short and clearing quickly. When she presented Japanese passports for both of us, I looked at her in surprise. I had no idea I even had one.

The immigration agent in the booth looked tired, lost in the boredom of his mundane routine. But as he looked at our passports, his energy changed. He looked up at us.

“Is there a problem?” Okaasan asked.

“There is an irregularity with your passport.”

“I’m sure everything’s fine,” Okaasan said. Her tone was polite but I sensed a trace of alarm.

The agent passed our passports to an older man who’d walked over, a textbook bureaucrat if I ever saw one. Dressed in an ill-fitting dark blue suit, white socks showing beneath his pants, his face was red and swollen, his head shiny and balding. He reeked of cigarettes and coffee—a walking cardiac event waiting to happen.

He held up one passport—mine, I assumed—and stared at it and then at me, his dark eyes flicking back and forth several times. When he was satisfied, he studied Okaasan’s passport, but when his eyes rose, his face turned an even deeper shade of red.

I turned to look at her and felt my jaw go slack. The way she stared into the man’s eyes made me feel like blushing, too.

“There’s no problem,” she said, her voice silky smooth. “I’m sure it’s a computer glitch.”

The supervisor didn’t budge, but the agent cleared his throat.

“Sir, the computer indicates an irregularity with her identity.”

The supervisor snapped out of his trance and glared at the agent. “Then do something about it,” he yelled. “You’re no better than a photocopier, spewing useless information. Do whatever is necessary to correct this problem.” He turned back to Okaasan. “These people are Japanese citizens.”

“Of course.” Okaasan continued to stare at the man. “I want to leave now.”

The supervisor handed us our passports.

“Thank you, sir.” Okaasan bowed low to the supervisor. “You are a fine leader,” she cooed. “I will be sending compliments to your superiors.

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