'You're next,' a voice said at last.
'Hello?' said Masako, her voice muffled. Silence. She had apparently surprised him. 'Satake?' she said.
'Masako Katori?' The voice was quiet, with a slight tremor that suggested pleasure. As if he had been waiting for this meeting. 'Speaking,' she said.
'What did it feel like to cut up those bodies?' he said. 'Why are you after us?'
'I'm after you.'
'Why?'
'Because you're a smart-ass. I'm going to teach you about the big, bad world.'
'Thanks, but no thanks,' she said. Satake laughed.
'I was wrong,' he said. 'You're next. Tell Jumonji you've moved up the line.' The voice was familiar. While she searched her memory trying to identify it, the phone went dead.
3
The voice was still there in her head. She'd heard it somewhere else quite recently. Jumping up from the couch, she grabbed her jacket and bag and headed out the door. The Corolla's engine was still warm. She was sure now: she'd met him several times. But she still needed confirmation, and that was what she was going to get, while he was still sleeping.
If the guard named Sato was actually Satake, it all made sense. He could have met Kuniko in the parking lot and struck up a conversation with her on the walk to the factory; and it would have given him a chance to keep an eye on Masako as well. She remembered how his flashlight had lingered on her face when they'd first met, the anger in his eyes when she'd turned to face him on the road, and the pressure of his hand on her shoulder last night. Little things that had seemed just slightly odd.
She was certain now. But she knew that confidence could turn to panic in an instant, and she might be forced to run. She couldn't settle for that. She wanted to see him dead, before she left. But was she really capable of murder? Probably not. Still, she wasn't willing to end up like Kuniko. Her body tensed and her foot touched the accelerator, sending her car jerking forward almost into the truck in front.
Yes, Sato the guard was Satake the casino owner. The memory of his dark eyes brought back the dream she'd had several weeks ago, one where she'd felt sexually aroused as someone was strangling her from behind. It had been a premonition, she realised now, and she had the strange feeling that if he ever did get his hands on her, she might actually give in. Last night, there on that ill-lit road, some sort of current had passed between the two of them, for just a moment. Even then she'd known on some level that Sato was Satake.
As she crawled along through the morning rush-hour traffic, she let her thoughts range over the past few months and on into the future. Was she the hunter or the hunted? Would she kill or be killed? 'Because you're a smart-ass,' he'd said. She couldn't let him get away with that. No, it was clearer to her than ever now: she and Satake were at war.
She headed back along the familiar route to the factory. When she got there, the parking lot was almost full for the morning shift. She checked the clock in the car; it was 8.30 and the shift started at 9.00, so there would be more cars coming. She pulled off to the side of the road that led to the abandoned factory, and walked back to the guardhouse. Satake had been relieved by an older man in glasses. As she came up, he was reading the morning paper, holding the tightly folded sheets close to his face.
'Good morning,' she said. He looked up at her over his reading glasses, at her bloodshot eyes and pale face. 'I work on the night shift, and I was wondering if you could tell me the address of the guard who's on duty then - Sato, I think his name is.'
'Sato? I've heard the name, but I don't get on till 6.00, so we haven't actually met up. You could try asking at the office.'
'The employment agency or just the main office?'
'No, not at the factory - the company we work for. Try calling this number,' he said, handing her a business card with the name 'Yamato Security' written on it.
'Thanks.' Masako tucked the card into the pocket of her jeans.
'Why do you need his address?' he asked, smirking.
'I want to ask him out on a date,' she said with a straight face. The man gave a snort and stared at her. She knew how grim and determined her face must look, how far from anything romantic, but the old man apparently saw something else.
'It must be nice to be young,' he said. Young? She smiled ironically.
'Do you think they'll give it to me?'
'Just tell them what you told me,' the man said, looking down at his paper. Back in the car, Masako called the number on Jumonji's cell phone.
'Yamato Security?' an older voice said.
'My name's Kuniko Jonouchi, and I work at the Miyoshi Foods factory. The guard on the night shift, Sato-san, found something I lost, and I wanted to send him a little thank-you present.'
'Is that right?' the man said.
'Would you mind telling me his full name and address?'
'His address here at the office or at home?'
'The home one, if you don't mind.'
'Hold on a second.' Masako was amazed how casual they seemed to be, as if the whole place were run by pensioners. It was a far cry from the security companies that used to transport the cash in the old days at the credit union. 'His name is Yoshio Sato,' the man told her after a moment. 'And he lives at the Tama Municipal Apartment Complex in Kodaira, apartment 412.'
'Thanks very much,' she said, closing the phone and turning up the heater in the car. She'd suddenly felt chilly. It had never occurred to her that Satake might be living in the same building as Kuniko. He must have been laying his trap for some time, planning it all with great care. Once again, his attention to detail amazed and horrified her. They were like so many fish being driven into nets he had set long ago. Kuniko had been first, but now it was her turn. The blast of hot air from the heater had brought out a light sweat on her forehead, but when she reached up to wipe it off, it felt oddly cold.
On an impulse, she thought of calling Yayoi. They hadn't talked since they'd quarrelled some weeks earlier, and she wondered whether something might have happened that she wasn't telling her about. She dialled her number.
'The Yamamotos',' she heard Yayoi say in a slightly affected way.
'It's me.'
'Masako? It's good to hear from you.'
'Is everything okay?'
'Yes, fine. The boys are at day-care. It's been nice and quiet.' Her reaction to Masako's usual intensity seemed almost relaxed, for once. 'Why do you ask?'
'No reason. I'm glad things are going well.'
'Actually, we're going home to live with my parents soon.'
'That sounds like a good idea.'
'How are you doing? How's the Skipper?'
'She hasn't been at work lately.'
'Really? That's a change. How's Kuniko?'
'She's dead,' said Masako. Yayoi let out a little shriek but said nothing for a few seconds. Masako waited.
'Was she murdered?' Yayoi said finally.
'Why would you think that?'
'I don't know, I just had a feeling.' Masako was sure now that she was hiding something.
'Anyway, she's dead,' she said.
'When?'
'I don't know.'
'How did she die?'
'I don't know that either. I just saw the body.' She decided not to mention that it had rope marks around the neck.
'You saw the body?' Yayoi said in a bleak voice.
'I saw it.'
'Masako-san,' she said, sounding panicky now. 'What's going on? Why did this happen?'
'I guess you'd have to say we woke up a monster.'
'. . . You mean, he murdered her?' She'd said 'murder' again, and she seemed to know immediately that 'monster' meant Satake. She must have met up with him.
'Do you know who he is then?' Masako said. Yayoi was silent. There was the sound of talk-show chatter in the background. 'If something's happened, you need to tell me. Our lives could depend on it. Do you understand that?' The urgency in her voice vibrated in the tight space of the car. She looked frantically at the overflowing ashtray
as she waited for an answer.
'No,' Yayoi said at last. 'Nothing's happened.'
'I'm glad to hear it,' she snapped. 'You're on your own then '
'Masako,' she said, as if to cut her off. 'Do you think it's my fault?'
'No, I don't.'
'Really?'
'Really.' And on this note, she broke the connection. She had never blamed Yayoi. If anything, it was her own fault. Still, she had no intention of apologising to anyone, no regrets about the way she'd handled things. The only thing that concerned her now was that someone was blocking her exit, and how she was going to get out. Even if she told the others what she was planning, she knew none of them would come with her; and she wasn't looking for company anyway.
Masako stared down at her bony hands, her only source of comfort now. Bringing them slowly to her face, she reminded herself that she was the only person she could trust. No one else. She remembered how lonely she'd felt when she first realised this, that summer day in the woods, when she went to check the spot where she had buried Kenji's head.
The air in the car had grown warm and heavy, and she suddenly felt sleepy. She closed her eyes with the engine running.
When she woke up half an hour later, she was still sitting there, parked by the quiet road leading to the factory. The grass along the verge was brown from the nightly frost. From where she sat, she could see the concrete cover that Kazuo had pulled off the culvert, still propped up like an open tomb. In ten hours or so, Satake would pass this way in his uniform, looking ordinary, anonymous.
-
The area in front of Higashi Yamato Station was empty, as usual. Dust swirled up from a vacant lot along the tracks, and a crowd of elementary-school children, brightly dressed for an outing, stood in front of the skating rink. Masako parked behind the station, pushed her way through the children, and hurried across the street, before ducking into an alley lined with tightly shuttered bars. The wind was cold and smelt vaguely of garbage. Worried she'd be too late, she quickened her pace.
She came to a small sushi shop with a 'Closed' sign in the window and ran up the flimsy stairs next to it, heading for the Million Consumers Centre. She listened at the plywood door at the end of the passage. For a moment she heard nothing, but eventually she made out the sound of somebody quietly moving about inside.
'Jumonji-san,' she called. 'Open up. It's Masako.' He opened the door a moment later, looking much as he had earlier. He was sweating now, though, perhaps from the hurry to finish his preparations. The drawers of the desks and the filing cabinet stood open. Knowing Jumonji, he was looking for anything valuable he could take with him, and his staff were in for a nasty shock when they showed up later.
'So it's you,' he said.
'Sorry. Did I frighten you?' she asked. He laughed awkwardly but said nothing. It seemed odd that no one else was in the office. 'Have your people quit?' she said.
'There's someone coming in this afternoon. She'll be a bit surprised, I guess.' He smiled again as he showed her into the office. 'What's up? I wasn't sure I'd be seeing you again.'
'I'm glad I caught you. I was hoping you could give me some information on Kuniko's loan. Did you fill out a credit history on her before you lent her the money?'
'Of course,' he said. 'But why does it matter?' She looked at him for a moment, realising he had reached his limit.
'I found out who Satake is,' she said.
His eyes went wide. 'Who?'
'A security guard named Sato who works at our parking lot.'
'Shit!' he said, amazed perhaps that Satake should have gone to such lengths, or that Masako had been able to ferret him out. 'Are you sure?'
'And not only that, he's been living in Kuniko's apartment building.'
'I knew some scary characters in my biker days in Adachi, but I never met anyone like this guy. He's on a whole different level,' he whispered, remembering the man he'd seen the night he collected Kuniko's body. He rubbed the corners of his mouth, as if rubbing something sticky off. Masako glanced around at the nearly empty office.
'Looks as though business has been slow,' she said.
'Slowing to a halt, you might say. At any rate, Kuniko's file should be over there. You're welcome to it, but I still don't see what use it could be.' Masako found the 'J' section in the drawer. She pulled Kuniko's papers and scanned the loan questionnaire, filled out in Jumonji's messy scrawl, searching for potentially overdue loans. 'What d'you have in mind?' he asked, slipping off his jacket. It seemed his curiosity had been aroused.
'I'm looking for something I can use.'
'Use how?'
'To give Satake a bad time,' she said.
'Don't even think about it,' he murmured. 'Let's just get out of here.' Masako examined the photocopy of Kuniko's licence. She was heavily made up for the picture and her face looked flat and sallow.
'Jumonji-san?'
'What?'
'How do you declare bankruptcy?'
'It's pretty easy,' he said. 'You just have to appear in civil court a bunch of times.'
'I don't suppose we could find somebody to play Kuniko,' she said, flicking her finger at the license photo. Yayoi, even if they got her to go along with the scheme, could never pass for her. Besides, there wasn't time.
'What are you planning?' Jumonji asked, staring at her.
'I was wondering whether we could have Kuniko file for bankruptcy and list Satake as co-signatory on her loans.'
'Clever,' he said, laughing nervously. 'Even if we can't fake the bankruptcy, we can still make him co-signatory and then tell the creditors she's skipped town. Everything's done over the phone nowadays, so all I'd have to do is make a few calls to some "colleagues" in the business. These guys'll take on anything as long as they think there's money to be made.'
'You can just tell people Satake co-signed her loans?'
'It's that simple. You don't even have to have a contract. The downside is, he's not really responsible for making payments, but they'll still bug the shit out of him until somebody does.'
'That's all I want,' Masako said. 'Then, can you put out the word that Kuniko's gone missing?'
'Consider it done.'
'Let's fill out some loan papers and stamp in his name. You must have some ready-made seals around here.' Jumonji went over to his desk and took a cookie tin out of the drawer. He had a mischievous look as he pried off the top and showed her the array of bogus seals inside.
'Serves him right for picking a common name like Sato,' he said, quickly producing three seals with the name.
'You can get out of here as soon as you're done.'
'I'll be finished by noon,' he said. The colour had returned to his cheeks.
'At least we can smoke him out of his hole,' she said, a little smile coming to her face as she imagined Satake sleeping unawares in his apartment.
4
Only scaring her was boring.
Satake was in the roof garden of a supermarket across from the station. The place was nearly empty, perhaps due to the cold, cloudy weather, or because the store was losing customers to the huge supermarkets being built further out in the suburbs. A few parents with small children were milling around the little playground, and a boy and girl of high-school age were necking off in a corner. Otherwise, it was empty.
For some time, he had been standing looking at the makeshift pet shop next to the game arcade. The five dirty cages out in front were occupied by drowsy puppies and kittens, common breeds that had been around the shop too long and seemed a bit large for their cages. As he peered in at them, cigarette in hand, they shrank away. He remembered how Anna had accused him of treating her like a lapdog. For just a moment, he missed the smooth skin and perfect features of the woman he'd turned into the top girl at Mika. The top pet in the shop.
Anna herself had known that once she'd realised this, she would never be able to keep that position, however hard she tried. That was just the way things worked. She'd been so popular precisely because she hadn't known
she was a pet. But it was all over the minute it dawned on her, and there would always be a shadow of self-awareness from then on. It was a quality that was essential in a woman for a man to fall in love with her; but men who were only interested in buying a woman's body hated it with a vengeance. They wanted good looks untouched by any selfknowledge; not a cat but a kitten. This was why he'd been willing to spoil and flatter Anna, hoping to keep her in the dark - and why it was so ironic that falling in love with him had been her downfall. Anna seemed to be doing fine at the bar she was now working in, but that would only last another six months at most. He felt sorry for her, but the feeling was much the same as the pity he felt for the cats and dogs in these cages. He poked a long finger in between the bars, but the puppy backed away trembling.
'Don't be afraid,' he told it. It was boring when they sucked up to you, cringing and crawling all over you. On the other hand, if they were too trusting, they were just stupid. That was the thing about pets: they were either fawning or stupid. Suddenly fed up, he walked away from the shop. He poked his head into the empty, gaudily lit arcade next door, then walked through the small roof garden. The grey, seedy city stretched away toward the Tama Hills. A dump, Satake thought, spitting on the artificial turf. The lovers in the corner and the parents by the playground looked at him in dismay.
Masako Katori hadn't shown up at the factory for the past four days, not since he left Kuniko's Golf in the parking lot for her. Maybe she'd quit. But that would be deeply disappointing. He'd been so excited to find a woman he thought had nerves of steel, but if a little trick like that sent her running, she was useless to him. In the end, would she be just as scared of him as everybody else? Had he been fooling himself that night on the way to the factory, thinking she'd felt something - an affinity?
He turned back toward the pet shop. The dogs and cats followed him with their pathetic eyes. He had a feeling that something was beginning to wither inside him, and he took the stairs down from the roof in a hurry. As he ran, his pulse quickened, his body remembering the excitement of that summer evening when he'd chased the other woman through Shinjuku. The look on her face had thrilled him beyond anything he'd ever known. But with Masako he felt disappointed, angry. He wanted to hurt her, not just snuff her out the way he had the fat one. Was it a mistake to think that he'd been fated to meet her? The hands in his pockets clenched into fists.