Sin Garden (Tokyo Noir Book 2)

A Missing Girl. A Sinister Club. A Detective Who Can't Let Go.

Tokyo, 1991. Former Met detective Pete Bond is at rock bottom—unemployed, drinking alone, and nursing a failed interview—when a chance encounter in a Shinjuku izakaya pulls him back into the shadows. An American named Harrison Thom claims his daughter disappeared after arriving in Tokyo. Bond, intrigued and skeptical, takes the case.

The search leads from Ginza to Kabukicho, through hostess clubs, manga-inspired snuff films, and a secretive S&M club called Sin Garden. As Pete digs deeper, nothing adds up. Is Amy really Harrison’s daughter? Who's behind the disturbing photograph of her tied up like a scene from underground cinema? And why does Harrison seem to know more than he lets on?

As Bond’s investigation intensifies, allies turn suspect and lines blur between predator and victim. Haunted by his past and driven by instinct, Pete is pulled into a dark Tokyo underworld where voyeurism, violence, and manipulation are currency—and trust is the most dangerous gamble of all.

Second in the Tokyo Noir trilogy by Nick John, Sin Garden delivers a gripping descent into obsession, deception, and the darkest corners of human desire.

Start reading Sin Garden today and uncover the truth behind the photograph.

Excerpt from the book

Thursday, February 28, 1991

Ginza/Shinjuku, Tokyo

PETE BOND

'What did you did at the weekend, Pete-san?'

'Did… did… did?'

'Ah sorry, Pete-san. What did you do?'

'I went out with some friends.'

'Ah.' Mr Takahashi sucked some air in. 'Good friends, Pete-san?'

'Yes, otherwise I wouldn't have been out with them.'

I knew he hadn't followed my swiftly spoken reply, and it was hardly an example of good teaching using a structure more complicated than the target language, but it was one of the benefits of teaching people this stuff. You could be rude to them, and they couldn't spot it. And this bloke asked for it.

'Where did you went?' He continued his weekly interrogation.

'Went… went?'

He sucked in a lungful of air, his face contorting in concentration. 'Where did you go?'

I considered winding him up with a story about doing a tea ceremony course but stopped myself. He would know I was taking the piss. I settled for: 'We went to Roppongi.'

His face lit up. 'Ah, Roppongi. Hmm, dangerous.'

It was anything but. He thought differently, though. He thought only wild Japanese went there as everybody else was worried about mixing with so many foreigners. Scared of catching something, probably. Evidently, Japanese people don't get HIV, but we all have it. But he loved talking about the place, so I told him a few stories, gave him something to wank over when he got home to his shitty little six-tatami room with nothing to do except stare at the walls, watch sexual perversions on Thursday evening TV and worry about pleasing his boss.

'Did you have a good time?' He was persistent, and at least he had remembered his grammar for once.

'It was good fun.'

'What did you do?'

'The same as most weeks.'

'Did you meet many people?'

Many, not much. I was impressed.

'Yes.'

'What about women?'

It usually took him this long to get round to his favourite subject.

'There were a lot of women in Roppongi. There always are.'

'Were there some nice ones?'

'Any.'

'Were there any nice ones?'

'Of course.'

I decided to give him some bullshit about pulling some beautiful gaijin model with big breasts as I knew he was fascinated by them. Big breasts and slim bodies didn't often go together on Japanese girls, although Maki was one standout exception. Not that he ever got near any of the ordinary ones.

'Hmm. I am jealous Pete-san. You enjoy Tokyo.'

'I certainly do.'

'Will you see her again?'

My thoughts turned to Suzi as it was her I had described to him. A fantasy reply to a fantasy question. Since that night last September in Gyotoku, I had hardly seen her, let alone done anything else.

The lesson dragged on until I was finally rid of the irritating little man. Privates always wore me down. But maybe my situation was about to change. I headed to the small room that passed as the staffroom, said goodbye to a couple of teachers who were poring over the jobs section of the paper and left.