The Secret Agent (Part III) - The Arabian

This is the third installment of the four-part series.
The Secret Agent (Part I) - Promotion
The Secret Agent (Part II) - Eavesdropping
»The Secret Agent (Part III) - The Arabian
The Secret Agent (Part IV) - Free-fall

"Irasshaimase!" he greeted as a couple entered the shop. It was Christmas eve after all. You wouldn't go to crappy revolving sushi restaurants for Christmas dates. This was where you would come to - a decent family restaurant, Sushi Queen.

* * * * *

Earlier in the morning, the Agent came to the shop, asking if he could work here for only that day. He made up a story about not having enough money to buy his girlfriend her favourite soft toy for Christmas. He would be indebted if he was allowed to work there, he said. and he promised to do just anything - washing the dishes, taking the orders, serving the customers, cleaning the toilet, anything!

Tenchou-san - as the shop owner was fondly called by his employees - pondered for a moment. Since it was Christmas eve, he expected more customers today. So he could use some extra help.

"Say 'irasshaimase'," tenchou-san asked. He then pronounced the word syllable by syllable, as if he was talking to a baby, "I-ra-sshai-ma-se"

"Irasshaimase," the Agent imitated the old man as perfectly as possible. But the telltale British accent was just too heavy. Despite having stayed in Japan for three years, he still could not grasp the outlandish oriental language. When he was about to try a second time, tenchou-san motioned him to stop.

For the moment, the Agent thought he wasn't going to get the job after all. In his head, he was already making up a backup plan.

Tenchou-san, however, had something else in mind. True, not all gaijins were to his liking. Some of them were so baka that they couldn't speak Japanese. But some of them were kakkoi, especially those with brue eyes and brond hair. This one, for instance. More than that, this gaijin resembled the Hollywood star, John Canary, he thought. The okyaku-san would like him.

"Good, you're hired," tenchou-san said. "All you need to do is stand by the entrance and greet the okyaku-san, that's 'customers' just in case you don't know."

"Arigatou!" the Agent thanked the old man, bowing so low that he almost somersaulted. Phase One, checked.

* * * * *

The Agent fixed his eyes on a corner table. There she was, his girlfriend, waiting for her secret lover. Despite the betrayal, he could not help getting transfixed by her. It was that lovely face that he fell for when they first met at a matchmaking party - did the Japanese call it goukon or something? He could not remember.

Blaring honks from the street jolted him awake from the trance. The Agent looked out of the window and saw a man casually guiding a camel to the walkway. After tying the tether to a lamppost, the man walked into the shop.

"Irasshaimase!" the Agent greeted. As he made a deep bow, he managed to make a quick assessment on the newcomer.

He had a dark complexion and bushy eyebrows. One day's growth of beard was sticking up on his chin like thorns on a cactus. It was winter but despite the cold, the man was wearing a loose, white garment. The Agent could tell it was thobe, the traditional dress for Saudi Arabian men - he saw it on Discovery Channel the other day. Besides, the headdress confirmed his inference. This must be the man his girlfriend was talking to on the phone last night. His right fist tightened into a clench. Taking a deep breath, he loosened it again, training his eyes on the Arabian as he made his way to the table in the corner...