Quincy M.E. (1976–1983): Season 8, Episode 10 - Sword of Honor, Blade of Death - full transcript

You can't kill him.

I don't kill him,
he will kill me.

It could mean only one thing.

A linkup between a powerful,
major crime family in Japan

and the mafia.

First you kill a cop,

now you got his old man wandering
around on the streets looking for us.

Yakuza are Japanese gangsters.

Sort of the Japanese
equivalent to the mafia here.

You mean a vendetta?

Oh my god, Dr. Quincy, if that's
true the yakuza will kill both of them.



We're not too late.

Gentlemen, you
are about to enter

the most fascinating
sphere of police work,

the world of forensic medicine.

Kutsu.

What's he saying?

I think he wants us
to take off our shoes.

You are very
punctual, Mr. Mollner,

that is most appreciated.

As I told your boys in Hawaii,
when you do business with us,

it's professional,
right down the line.

So I was told.

Oh, please, sit, you'll
take tea with me.

If it's all the same to
you, Mr. Nakatama,



I'd like to get right
down to business.

What good is business if one does not take
the time to enjoy the qualities of life

successful business provides.

Did you bring the samples?

I can see you are going to have much
difficulty enjoying your tea in silence.

Naturally I brought
samples. And you?

Naturally. Lauber.

Funaki.

How many can you deliver?

A thousand. Lauber?

Almost there.

When are you
gonna make delivery?

The goods are already
here. I will make the transfer

the moment the guns
safely arrive in Yokohama.

Yeah, well, we got a little
hitch in that department.

See, I can deliver the guns to
any port in the United States,

no problem, but running that kind
of hardware into Japan right now,

that's a little risky.

So I was thinking.

Now, you've got
people on both sides,

it would be a hell of a lot
easier if you run them in yourself.

That is not the arrangement we made
with your representatives in Hawaii.

Man.

This is ninety-seven
percent pure horse.

I haven't seen stuff like
this since the 'Nam runs.

You see, I always honor
my side of a transaction.

And so do we. It's just
that running the stuff in...

Mr. Mollner, just for a moment.

Try to appreciate this
exchange from my point of view.

I am offering you
as an initial shipment

two kilograms of the
purest golden triangle heroin,

worth, conservatively
speaking, how much?

Four million U.S. dollars.

I guarantee delivery into the
United States and receive what?

One thousand reconditioned 38s.

An exchange any student can see

amounts to two thousand
U.S. dollars per gun.

And then, in addition to my
two thousand dollars per gun,

I am given the privilege of
attempting to bring the guns into Japan.

- You want the guns?
- You want the heroin?

Do you?

If we are to do
business, Mr. Mollner,

I think, the terms will have
to be much more equitable.

What do you have in mind?

If I am to import these weapons,

at such a substantial risk,

then I insist on two
thousand guns per kilo.

Two thousand? The dope
cost you practically nothing.

And the guns cost
you, what? Fifty dollars?

I will suggest there's
ample time and profit

for both of us in
this arrangement.

I don't know, Nakatama.

This is a new deal and I have to
check it with my people on this one.

I was led to believe I was to
deal with someone in authority.

Since you are merely
a messenger boy.

Hold it, hold it. There's
more to it than that.

This is a big operation, there's a
lot of people involved and you're

doubling the price on us.

You are not
negotiating in good faith.

Our original agreement was for
delivery in Japan and you are reneging,

is this not true?

Let's not call it that.

Then what would you call it?

Mr. Mollner, for the substantial
risk you are now imposing upon me,

I believe an equitable
settlement would be

two thousand guns
per kilo of pure heroin.

If you would feel soothed by
lifting the ceiling of our arrangement,

I am prepared to deliver...

If you think you can
deliver that many.

Do you still have to
consult your people?

No. Not anymore.

Mr. Nakatama, you
drive a very hard bargain.

Done. Four thousand
guns, two kilos pure heroin.

Agreed.

Nonda.

Oyabun. We were being spied
upon. We have killed the intruder.

What's he saying?

He said our negotiations
have remained confidential.

It's a cop? He killed a cop?

- He what?
- Quiet!

Let's get out of here.
Nakatama, we'll be in touch.

My son. He is with my son.

Funaki, this young
man, Sam Fujiama.

Find him and bring him to me.

I'm sorry I'm late, Quince.

That's okay. He's
behind the truck.

Get some shots, it'll give
us the orientation of the body.

I'm on it.

What d'you find?

Nothing. Not even
his service revolver.

The whole neighborhood
is deaf, dumb and blind.

For all I know, there were fifty
witnesses, but nobody saw a thing.

That doesn't surprise me. He wasn't
killed here. He was dumped here.

There was very little blood and
judging from the severity of the wound,

I'd say he'd have
bled profusely.

Michael Morishima was a good
cop, Quincy, a real good cop.

And whoever stuck him had
to surprise him, that's for sure.

What was he working on?

We don't know yet. But he was working
undercover for the Asian Task Force.

Yeah, those boys haven't
decided whether they tell us or not.

It looks like they're going
to do their own footwork.

Sam, what are you doin' here?

I just heard at the lab.
Was it Michael Morishima?

Yeah.

Hold it.

How did it happen, Quince?

How did he let it
happen? He was too good!

How well did you know him?

High school. Vietnam.

We were very close friends.

Oh, Quince. How am I
going to tell his father?

Do you want me to go with you?

No, no. Thanks.

This is something
I gotta do alone.

Mr. Morishima, if there
is anything you need,

anything I can do for you.

You know, I could not have been fonder
of Michael if he were my own brother.

Samu, could you tell me,

did my son suffer in his death?

From what I have seen of his
wound, I believe he died very quickly.

I can tell you much
more after the autopsy.

Dozo.

I want to know everything.

I know, whatever the circumstances,
his death was no disgrace.

But it was no
great honor, either.

Sadako, are you all right?

I'm fine.

A cop's wife.

Why would any woman in
her right mind marry a cop?

Could you tell me, Sam? Why?

Why Michael?

Why him?

He was so gentle,

so kind...

why did he want to be a cop?

It was his way of giving something
back to the people he loved.

You know he found great
satisfaction doing what he did.

I know, I know. Just like I
always knew this day would come.

I knew it!

A phone call from his Captain,

a knock on the door and his
partner would be standing there,

hat under his arm, a look of
fear and sadness in his eyes.

Well, I never expected
it would come from you.

I never expected it either.

Why do I hate you right now?

Sadako!

Oh, for God's sake, Pop,
you've been here thirty-five years,

speak English!

Oh, my God, what am I doing?

What's wrong with me?

Why can't I stop crying?

Sam, you don't have to do this.

Everybody on the floor
has volunteered to assist.

I know, Quince. Thanks.

But it's something I have to do.

I promised his father and Sadako
that I'd do everything humanly possible

to help find Michael's killer.

Really, I'm gonna miss him.

Coroner's case 82-5721, the
body of Michael N. Morishima.

Male of Asian descent,
thirty-six years old.

The deceased is approximately
174 centimeters long,

weight approximately
70 kilograms.

He is of average
build and musculature.

Gross external examination
shows a penetrating incised wound

with one sharp edge
and one blunt edge.

Give me a ruler, Sam.

Thank you.

4.6 centimeters wide in the eighth
intercostal space on the chest,

eleven centimeters
left of the midline.

Sam, hand me the
magnifying glass, will you?

What is it?

I'm not sure.

I've seen more stabbings and
knifings than I care to remember,

but nothing like this.

- Like what?
- Well, here. Look.

Look how clean it is.
No jagged skin, nothing.

It's almost surgically precise and
the knife, or whatever killed him,

had to be scalpel sharp.

Whoever killed Morishima either
struck an exceptionally lucky blow

or knew exactly to the
millimeter where to stab.

I don't think it
was luck, Quince,

I'll bet you anything

that when we do the internal, we'll
find a laceration severing the body

of the left ventricle
of the heart.

Well, let's find out. Hand
me that scalpel, Sam.

You were absolutely right, Sam.

There's no doubt the cause of death
was massive intrathoracic hemorrhage

from the laceration
of the left ventricle.

Now, would you mind
telling me how you knew?

Quince, I never
thought it possible here.

I've read an awful lot about
them and their methods, but here?

What are you talking about?

Yakuza.

Yakuza? What's that?

Not 'what', 'who'. The Yakuza
are Japanese gangsters.

Sort of the Japanese equivalent
of the so-called mafia here.

Based on Morishima's chest wound,
you can tell it was a Yakuza murder?

I'm certainly not positive,
Quince. But it seems to fit perfectly,

almost like a textbook on
Japanese swordsmanship.

Now you're saying he was killed with
a sword? Sam, I think you're wrong.

I don't know what was used,

and I know the base of the
wound was too thick for a knife,

but swords are twin-edged.

Western swords are twin-edged.

Japanese swords are
single-edged and razor sharp.

You saw how clean and how
perfectly placed the wound was.

Yeah.

Quite a difference from the usual
stabbings and knifings we see.

No question about that.

Yakuza train for
years with swords.

They're experts.

Why swords, Sam?
Isn't that old-fashioned?

Well, it's... I don't
know how to explain it.

It's part of the Samurai heritage of
Japan. Part of the lore and the culture.

But besides that, guns are
practically nonexistent in Japan.

These Yakuza don't have guns?

Very few.

After the war, when the American
occupation forces moved into Japan,

they confiscated practically
every gun in the country.

And the gun control laws passed after
the occupation kept guns out of Japan.

So right now, guns are worth
their weight in gold over there.

What is it, Sam?
Something is bugging you.

I was just thinking
about Michael's father.

I know him, Quince. He's still very
old-fashioned Japanese in many ways.

So?

So, if the Yakuza are involved in
Michael's death and he finds out,

he'll feel obligated
to take revenge.

You mean a vendetta?

Avenging the death of a family member
is still an accepted custom over there.

But that's in Japan.
This is America, Sam.

The location may be
different, Quince, but

distance doesn't alter
tradition or culture.

Well I'm heading home, Quince.

- Good night, buddy.
- Good night, Quince.

Fujiama-san.

- Yeah?
- Chotto.

Mr. Nakatama is here?

That's terrific. You don't speak
English and my Japanese is terrible.

Dozo.

Okay. Lead the way.

Yes.

They tell me my
English is quite passable.

Please, come in. Your presence
honors my humble dwellings here.

- Funaki. Saki.
- Hai.

I was really
surprised you're here.

Ryoichi told me you
rarely leave Yokohama.

That is true. However, I had some
urgent business to attend to here.

And I did not want to miss the opportunity
of finally meeting you and thanking you.

Fujiama-san.

Please, Mr. Nakatama,
that's really not necessary.

My son, Ryoichi,
told me all about it.

He told me how you
risked your life to save his

when he fell into the rocks in
the ocean in Maui three years ago.

Were it not for you, he
would not be alive today.

For his life, I am
eternally in your debt.

You would do me a great honor
by allowing me to repay that debt.

Thank you. I ask only that you
convey my regards to Ryoichi.

How is he doing?

He is very well.

He has finished his
internship in Kobe

and is studying for an
advanced degree in the hospital

for children in Yokohama.

Oh, that's wonderful!

He has made me the
most proud of fathers.

Well, let's drink to the
health of both of you.

And to you, Sam. To you.

Now, dinner.

You will tell me all what you've
been doing these past few years

so I may tell Ryoichi.

Well,

you can start by telling him
that our friend Michael Morishima

was killed last night.

Slaughtered by some
animal in Little Tokyo.

Michael Morishima?

Yes, he was the third young
man in the picture Ryoichi has.

I am sorry to hear that.

Very sorry.

- Quince?
- Yeah.

Remember I told you about
this young med student Michael

and I met in Hawaii a few years ago
at the Japanese Cultural Conference?

You mean Ryoichi something?

- Ryoichi Nakatama.
- Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Well his father is in town
for a few days on business

and he sent a driver to pick me
up last night to have dinner with him.

You know, it was really
nice catching up on old times.

That's terrific. I send you
home early to get some sleep

you stay up half the
night at some dinner.

Yeah, well, thanks again for mounting
these tissue specimens for me, Quince.

I suppose our first step
is the electron microscope.

You suppose right.

Even if it was a scalpel-sharp
sword that killed Michael.

Maybe we can find
some trace elements

from the blade in
the tissue sections.

Ok, I'll get right
on it after lunch.

You know, Quince,

if Michael was killed
by Yakuza, believe me,

there's probably a lot more
to it than a simple murder.

That's absolutely
right, Mr. Fujiama.

Doctor Quincy? I'm Captain Nishamura
of the L.A.P.D. Asian Task Force.

How do you do?
This is Sam Fujiama

- Nice to meet you.
- Same here.

Doctor, can we talk?

Sure, sit down, sit down.

- Thank you.
- Is it about Michael's murder?

Yes.

I don't know how you did it,

but from what I just overheard,
you may have stumbled onto the fact

that Yakuza were
involved in Michael's death.

We try not to stumble here.

No offense meant.

Doctor Quincy, how much do
you know about the Yakuza?

Until Sam told me about them
yesterday, I'd never even heard of them.

Then let me give
you the crash course.

For centuries, Yakuza
were gamblers and outcasts,

very much like the hired
guns in the old West,

but with a big difference:

the Yakuza had a strict code
of honor and duty and loyalty

which they 'borrowed' almost
directly from the Samurai code.

But they weren't upper
crust like the Samurai.

They were peasant stock,
and for their own self interest

protected the villagers
from marauders.

So, for a couple hundred years, they
might have been gamblers and outlaws,

but because of their code of
honor, they were regarded as heroes

by the peasants
and common people.

But that's changed, right?

Right.

After the war,

the Yakuza code of
honor got lost in the shuffle.

The only code or honor that exists
is within their individual crime family

or gumi, as they're called.

There are about a half-dozen
major gumi in Japan,

with over one hundred
thousand gang members.

Over a hundred thousand? And you
say the Yakuza are in this country?

Yes, but they're not
here in any great number

or with any real
sense of organization.

There are some
Yakuza in Little Tokyo.

Before he was killed, Michael
was following up a rumor

that a major Oyabun was
coming to Los Angeles.

- A what?
- Oyabun.

That's the Yakuza equivalent
of a mafia 'Godfather'.

So, if it's true,

it could only mean
one thing: a linkup.

Linkup?

A linkup between a powerful major
crime family in Japan and the mafia.

- For what reason?
- Guns.

The mafia can get
them all they want,

- for the right price.
- Wow!

'Wow' is right.

So, Doctor Quincy,

if Michael Morishima was
killed by a Yakuza assassin,

we've got to keep it quiet.

We don't want him
hightailing it back to Japan.

Not until we know
what's going on.

I'll do what I can.

Thank you, Doctor.

Sam.

Remember. Not a word.

If it gets on the street,
the investigation is dead.

The picture he showed me was
definitely the same man, Oyabun.

I'm certain. It was the
man killed in my restaurant.

And you say it was his son?

That's what he told me, Oyabun.

I had him checked. His
name is John Morishima.

He owns an
import-export company.

He has been showing his son's picture
and asking questions all over Little Tokyo.

He was in my restaurant
only a few hours ago.

Domo.

And I need not remind
you, not a word to anyone.

That's terrific.

That's really terrific.

First you kill a cop,
now you got his old man

wandering all over the
streets, looking for us.

I want to wind up this
drug deal right now. Tonight.

Mr. Mollner,

your lack of patience is exceeded
only by your lack of comprehension.

You and my kobun,
Funaki, will keep an eye,

as you put it, on this
officer's vengeful father.

On the other hand, if he owns
an import-export company,

as Kobiasawa says, he
may be very, very useful to us.

Before we kill him.

So you didn't trust that restaurant
owner and followed him to a hotel.

What does that prove?

That is what I am
going to find out.

He knows what
happened to Michael.

Please, take it to the
police. Let them handle it.

Let them handle what?

There is nothing to handle

but to restore
dignity to my family.

What do you think you're doing?

John, please.

Dozo.

This isn't a Bruce
Lee movie, you know.

It's not a Samurai
melodrama on television.

You haven't handled a
sword in nearly forty years.

You're gonna
get yourself killed.

John, please.

Take it to the police.

It's their job.

Their job?

Since when has the job of a stranger
taken the place of the duty of family?

Duty? For god's sakes, John.

You're not back in
Nagasaki. You're here!

This is America, not Japan.

So you think geography
somehow alters my obligations?

He was my son!

He was my husband!

Then you above all should
want his murder avenged.

What?

What don't you understand?

I don't understand how three
thousand years of tradition,

three thousand years of honor

and duty and
obligation and pride,

how can these eternal principle

be shamelessly abandoned
by one uncaring generation?

Sadako.

I must, Sadako.

I must.

Try to make it on
time tomorrow, okay?

I'm running a business here.

Quiet or I'll slit your throat!

I don't have much money on me.

I don't want your
money. I want information.

Sure. Sure. Anything you want.

I showed you a picture
of my son this afternoon.

Yeah.

I want to know who
killed him and why.

I told you, I don't know.

If I move my hand
one inch you are dead.

Who killed him?

Funaki.

Who is he?

Kobun.

Kobun? Whose kobun?

Oyabun Nakatama.

An Oyabun? Nakatama?

Yes.

- He is here?
- Yes.

You saw him at the hotel?

Yes.

What room? What room?

Nine thirty-eight.

Drop the blade or
you're horsemeat! Drop it.

You're going to cost me money.

I'm not gonna stand
for that. Let's go.

Well, that should do it, Quince.

Okay. But make sure you get close-ups of
all his tattoos when you get him downtown.

Right.

I've never seen
tattoos like that.

Why would a simple restaurant
owner be so elaborately tattooed?

He was a Yakuza first,
businessman second.

Most Yakuza are completely
tattooed from their necks to their knees.

Like many of them cut
off joints of their fingers.

Yeah, I noticed two joints on the
little finger of his left hand are missing.

When a Yakuza kobun, family member,
screws up or dishonors his Oyabun,

he cuts off part of his finger
and gives it to his Oyabun

as a symbol of his contrition.

When he really screws up,

when he has dishonored
himself beyond redemption,

this is what he does.

Commits hara-kiri with a sword?

Like the poet Garth wrote: "When
honor's lost, 'tis a relief to die,

"Death is but a sure
retreat from infamy."

Ritualistic seppuku.

But this guy didn't
do it by the book.

My guess is that somebody did for him
and made it look like he committed suicide.

Quince.

The men's room.
You'd better take a look.

What are you doing?

If it turns blue, this is blood.

Just like that.

And there was a lot of it.

Looks like there was
a puddle of blood.

Like from a stabbing?

I know where you're
going. Michael Morishima.

Makes sense, doesn't it?

Maybe Nakatama was here,
using this restaurant as a base.

Michael stumbled on it.
The restaurant guy kills him.

Nakatama finds out
that he killed a cop.

And has this turkey do a little
seppuku number on himself.

- Why did he wait two days?
- That's the mystery.

Doctor Quincy, can you find out if
the sword this guy used on himself

was the same weapon
that killed Michael?

I'll certainly try.

Good.

I'm going back to my office.
I'm expecting a call from Japan.

The Japanese National Police
gang unit is trying to determine

if any major Oyabun
has left the country.

And I'm having our Organized
Crime Task Force try to find out

if any big time mafiosa
have been traveling to Japan.

Boy, that's a long shot.

I know, but right now,

it's the only shot we've got.

- Do you have
everything here, Sam?
- Yeah.

Let's find out
about those swords.

Nothing in these
tissue sections.

Anything on the scanning
electron microscope?

Sure I did. Look at these.

This is a micrograph
showing the incision

where the knife sliced into
Michael Morishima's ribs.

See how sharp the
bottom of the incision is.

This is the incision in
the restaurant owner.

In this one, the
bottom is rounded.

So the sword that killed
Morishima was a lot sharper

than the one that killed
the restaurant owner.

Right. We found different trace elements
in the wound on the restaurant owner.

So we're dealing with
two different weapons.

Doctor Quincy, I've completed
the blood typing for you.

Thank you.

D-2 variant in the
esterase system.

J-2 variant in the G.C.

The blood on the door in the men's room
is definitely Asian, probably Japanese.

One thing I know for sure, Sam.

It's a perfect match with
Michael Morishima's blood type.

So he was killed
in that restaurant.

Looks that way.

- There you are.
- Me?

Sam, Sadako Morishima is
upstairs in the waiting room.

She's very upset.
She'd like to talk to you.

Thank you. I'd
better go. Excuse me.

Well, any progress?

Yeah. But it's all negative.

It seems the sword
that killed Morishima

and the sword that the
restaurant owner used on himself

are two different weapons.

- That's too bad.
- Yeah.

But a nice link.

Yeah. So except for knowing
where Michael Morishima was killed,

we're back to square one.

Sam, I'm so glad you could
see me. I don't know what to do.

I'm going out of my mind.

I think John went
off the deep end.

What're you talking about?

Well, he didn't
come home last night.

What do you mean
he didn't come home?

That's what I'm
trying to tell you.

John thought that
restaurant owner,

or manager or somebody, had
something to do with Michael's death

and he went after him last
night, with an old katana.

Sam. Sam, you know something.
What is it? What's wrong?

Sadako.

John may have rushed into
something that's way over his head.

You trust me, don't you?

Of course.

Then please, for both your sake
and mine, go home and stay there.

Let me do what I
can for John. Okay?

Sam, what's going on?

I can't tell you. Now,
please, just do what I tell you.

Go home, lock the
door and stay there,

'til you hear from me. Okay?

Okay. But please, call me as
soon as you hear something.

I promise.

Sam, what did you with the
X-rays results? Where're you going?

I have to go out for a while.

- Something's wrong?
- Nothing.

It's personal business.

Tell me. Is it something
Sadako told you?

Sam, is it something
we should know?

I can only tell you is John
Morishima didn't come home last night.

Is that all she said?

That's all I can tell you
now, Quince. I've got to go.

Wait a minute. Is he
in any kind of trouble?

I don't know.

Why the secrecy all of a sudden?

Please, believe me,
Quince. I have no choice.

Yes, you do. Sam,
that's what I want you to

know: whatever it is,
you do have a choice.

You don't understand, I don't.

Sam, you'll wanna hear this.

- Men,
I think we hit the jackpot.
- What are you talking about?

Remember I told you I thought
some Japanese Oyabun was here

- to put
a massive deal together?
- Yeah.

The Japanese National
Police confirmed it.

The Oyabun of one of the biggest
gumi in Yokohama left Japan

four days ago to Hawaii.

Hawaiian police just verified
that he took a plane here.

It's all legitimate, mind you.

But, he's here.

They sent a wirephoto.

His name is Nakatama.
Yoshio Nakatama.

Nakatama. An Oyabun?

What, Sam?

Uh, it's nothing.

If you'll both excuse me.

Something I said?

No, something Sadako said
about John being missing.

You don't think Mr. Morishima
went after these guys, do you?

I don't know.

When we did the
autopsy on Michael,

Sam said something
about Japanese vendettas.

They really do
happen, don't they?

You bet your life they do.

Yeah, but Sam wouldn't get involved
with that. He's got too much sense.

Doctor Quincy, sense
has nothing to do with it.

It's giri.

What's giri?

There's really no
English translation for it.

The closest word
for giri is... obligation.

It's an obligation of honor.

A duty one must perform
to repay an unpayable debt.

At the risk of one's life?

If that's what it takes.

I really am worried about Sam.

This guy's a killer, isn't he?

Cold-blooded, Doctor Quincy.

Cold-blooded.

Nakatama-san!

Nakatama-san. It's Sam Fujiama!

- Nakatama-san?
- Huh?

I don't understand
what you're saying.

Please. It's a matter of
life and death, where is he?

Where is Nakatama?

I don't know who
you're talking about.

If you don't leave right
now, we'll call the police.

Where is Nakatama?

Listen, mister, I don't
know what this is all about,

but this room is costing me a
small fortune, you get my drift?

I'm sorry for the intrusion.

Not as much as I am.

Sammy, where you
been keeping yourself?

I've been keeping busy. And you?

Well, still able to sit up
and take nourishment.

Jeez, it's been a long time.

Hey, what's wrong?

Billy, I need some help.

Business or personal?

It was business.
Now it's personal.

Billy, I have to know
where Nakatama Oyabun is.

You in some trouble, Sammy?

No.

Somebody else, huh?

Listen, drop it, Sammy.

I can't.

- If it's money...
- No, it's not money.

Where is he? Where is Nakatama?

How would I know?

Come on, you know everything
that goes down around here.

Please, I think he's
holding a friend of mine.

For all I know he
may have killed him.

What makes you think I
would know anything about it?

This!

Now, you go to the phone and
you call whoever it is you have to call

and you let Nakatama know that Sam
Fujiama wants to see him immediately.

So you haven't
heard from John yet?

No, not since he went looking
for that restaurant owner last night.

I haven't heard
from either of them.

I don't know what to think, Doctor
Quincy. I'm going out of my mind.

You sent Sam to look for John?

Yes, I didn't know
who else to turn to.

We think John may have
gone after Nakatama.

And Sam is looking for John?

Oh, my God. Doctor Quincy, if that's
true, the Yakuza will kill both of them.

Look, if you were John and you wanted to
hide, now think hard, where would you go?

I don't know.

I called everyone
I could think of.

I've been calling the
warehouse every hour.

His warehouse? Why
didn't I think of that?

What warehouse?

He owns a trading
company at the harbor.

Yes. I thought you knew.

He owns one of the biggest
import-export companies on the coast.

Does he export to Japan?

That's practically
his entire business.

He's one of the most
respected exporters to Japan.

- Do you know where it is?
- Yeah.

I'd better get some back up.

Hope we're not too late.

Nakatama-san?

What have you done to John?

Nothing, yet.

Sam, please, leave this place.

This is not your
concern, it's business.

Business? This is business?

Yes. My business.

I am sure my son never told
you. I can understand him.

He was never proud of it.

He could never
understand our old ways.

Then you killed
Michael Morishima.

Sam, I did not personally
kill Michael Morishima.

He was a policeman,

he knew the risks
involved in his occupation.

We all know our risks.

But when I saw the
picture in his billfold,

the picture of you and him and
my son Ryoichi together in Hawaii.

- I wanted...
- You knew!

You sat there across the
table from me, drinking sake,

toasting one
another and you knew

you had one of my
dearest friends killed.

One was business.
The other pleasure.

They are two different things.

So, please. Go.

What's gonna happen to John?

No, no, you can't kill him.

Nakatama-san, please.
His son is dead already.

He has nothing to
do with any of this.

Please, let him go.

He won't say
anything. I won't either.

Sam, he is kazoku, family.

He will not give up trying to
avenge the death of his son.

If I don't kill him,
he will kill me.

Okay, we checked through the guns,
now you deliver. What's he doing here?

Oh, this is not your concern!

Nakatama-san, two nights ago

you asked how you could
repay your debt to me.

I am asking you now. Spare
the life of John Morishima.

Please, you are a man of honor.

I am asking you.

Then I have no choice
but honor your request.

If this fulfills my debt to you.

Bring Morishima out here.

Thank you.

- Albert? You got the dope?
- Yeah.

We're getting' out of here.

Drop it.

- Is that everyone?
- Looks that way.

- How you feelin'?
- Now that you ask,
I've had better days.

- Mr. Morishima, let's go home.
- Yes, let's go home.

You know, like
Mishima-yokio said...

Oh, please. I don't
wanna hurt your feelings,

but I don't wanna hear
any more Japanese quotes.

Here's Bob.

Is it over?

Yeah, they just came
down with the arrangements.

You're not going to like it.

Give us the bad news.

Nakatama's kobun, Osada, took
the full rap for Michael's murder.

He confessed everything and was adamant
that Nakatama knew nothing about it.

Why would he do
a thing like that?

A kobun would walk barefoot
through hell for his Oyabun.

It's in words: Oya means
father and ko means child.

A kobun would do anything
for his Oyabun, his father.

It's their old tradition.

So because of tradition,
he's going to walk free?

Not completely.

We still nail him on accessory
after the fact and John's kidnapping.

He'll buy a few years, but
not enough, if you ask me.

"If you knew sushi, like I
know sushi," ah, what a meal.

Wait, you'll see what I
ordered for everyone.

They cancelled it.

Here lasagna for you.

Steak and fries here.

And the filet for you.

- Looks great.
- I'll have filet too.

- Thank you.
- I ordered
sushi for everybody!

That's raw fish!

No.

Quincy, how can
you eat that stuff?