Funatsu Kiji had been killed!
When Shenghai's mayor, Ming Jue, heard the news, he was stunned.
"Did you get drunk at tonight's reception and start talking nonsense?" Ming Jue glared at his nephew and secretary, Ming Heng. "Do you know who Funatsu Kiji was? He was the general manager of the Japan Textile Trade Association in Shenghai, a man of considerable standing. Who would dare kill him?"
Sweat beaded on Ming Heng's forehead. "Uncle—Mayor, it's true. It happened after tonight's reception. After Funatsu returned from the concession to Hongkou District, someone threw a bomb at him and killed him. His bodyguards all died too. Ronin were chasing the killers down the street at the time, but several of the killers opened fire with machine guns. Twenty-six ronin died. Severed limbs and scraps of flesh were everywhere. It was too horrible to look at. I heard the patrolmen who collected the bodies vomited for ages—"
Ming Jue's expression shifted. He largely believed his nephew now. "Who did it? Have they found out?"
"They're investigating." Ming Heng shook his head. "The concession's patrol office and the Police Department under City Hall both sent men to seal every exit from Hongkou District. But I doubt it'll help. The killers arrived by car and left by car. By the time the patrolmen and officers reached the scene, they were long gone."
Because Beichuan Road in Hongkou District lay in the Cross-Boundary Road Zone—a "quasi-concession"—both the patrol office under the Municipal Council and the Police Department under City Hall had jurisdiction. That left two groups investigating the scene.
"Did no one see what the killers looked like?" Ming Jue frowned. "And since they came by car, it shouldn't be too hard to trace them. Shenghai has no shortage of car owners, but there can't have