The foreign government that asked the teacher to carry out this attack thought they’d be able to increase its influence. By throwing this other country into confusion, these politicians could create an opportunity for their own country to intervene and negotiate with the armed groups. In which case, they would simply negotiate with the teacher, who they had hired to carry out the attack in the first place. This foreign government acted indignant that other developed countries were taking advantage of this country. Its leaders talked about ideals in the name of their religion. And that country was, for the big munitions companies, an important place to sell weapons. The longer the confusion continued, the more profit they’d make. And that profit would also spread to their affiliated businesses.
I returned to my NGO. I had gone missing, but I never made the news in Japan. The media had no desire to reveal that a large Japanese company was working behind the scenes of all the unrest and civil war, or that the government was involved.
A call came the day after I returned to the NGO. The timing was too perfect. It made me think they had an informant inside the company. Someone asked me to get the phone. When I picked up the receiver, I heard the teacher’s cold voice.
“I won’t forget your betrayal.”
I wasn’t sure why, but I was holding back tears. I told the teacher what I had learned about his lies. But his voice remained composed.
“What does it matter if that’s the truth? We need money for our projects. Sometimes we take that money from our enemies. It’s all to spread the holy teachings of R.” His words grew harsher, and firmer.
“You’re the leader of a religion, aren’t you? Or are you just a professional terrorist? Isn’t that your real job? Terrorism? And because of your plan, your comrades . . .”
“They’re in heaven.”
“And the civilians?”
“They are in heaven, too.”
None of my words reached him.
“Are you saying that I’m not sad about their deaths? I cried long for all of them.”
“Do you know how they died? Their flesh was ripped off by bullets. They were full of pain.”
“You didn’t watch either, did you?”
“If you had watched, you wouldn’t be able to say those things.”
The teacher paused for a second. But even I knew that wasn’t because of my words.
“The Japanese say strange things,” he said quietly. “How many hundreds of dead bodies do you think I’ve seen?”
I remembered Kejaf’s face. The man who said he wanted to be a tour guide, but who had lost all empathy. That talented man torn apart by bullets. His life snuffed out in the name of armed resistance.
“Just because I haven’t seen the bodies doesn’t mean I’m not sad. I prayed so long. For those heroes. So they could be happy in heaven.”
Where does evil come from? Who takes it on? How will it end?
Where does evil come from?
But the teacher didn’t call me to debate philosophical questions. He had another intention.
“I won’t forget your betrayal,” he repeated. “I am always watching you. I am watching everything you do. Do you think we don’t have members in Japan? Starved One, I saw your face when you were a child starving in that apartment. With my own two eyes. By the power of the gods.”
Why couldn’t I say anything then? His words sank into me. My vision narrowed, and I saw someone’s feet in front of me. The teacher’s feet. The beautiful feet that approached me just as my life was about to end.
“Remember this. Every person around you will die a cruel death. Their heads will be cut off. They’ll be torn apart by bullets. They’ll be raped mercilessly. In the name of R, which has been passed down from ancient times. Your delicate society will be invaded by us and our violence. There is one way to escape. That is to remember that you are nothing but the tip of my finger. I will contact you again.”
I returned to Japan and contacted the teacher. The day after I got in touch with him, I found the word “invocation” on my wall. When I found that
[The diary ends here]
16
Tachibana finished reading Takahara’s diary. What is this? Is this real? She couldn’t get up from her chair for a moment while her thoughts wandered.
Once the assembly in the hall was over, Tachibana headed for his room. She didn’t know what had happened to the recording she had given Mineno, or how Takahara had left the building. She didn’t know anything. She’d thought Takahara had been working in secret from the leader, but the leader had spoken to the believers as if he knew everything. What was happening? Tachibana searched for any sort of clue.
Takahara’s room was spare as always. There was no human touch. It felt as though no one lived there, like the furniture refused to interact with humans, and just sat silent and cold.
She searched desperately for any clue. She looked inside the bag on the floor, opened all the files lined up on the shelf. Thinking it wouldn’t open, she pulled his desk drawer. But it was unlocked. Inside she found the journal.
YG. She had heard that name before. But, certainly . . . Tachibana opened the drawer again, and her heart began to race. This time she noticed the hidden compartment. When she removed the board, she found a laptop computer.
It was forbidden to have a computer in the cult. There was a wireless LAN connection, so it could probably connect to the Internet. She turned it on, but it was locked. The password. Thinking there was no way it would work, she typed Takahara’s birthday. It didn’t work. Her heart beat faster. Her fingers shook as she typed. invocation. Her throat went dry. The screen unlocked.
Her heart continued to race disgustingly fast as she got online. She began researching YG.
YG. A small armed organization practicing the Rarseshir faith. She continued to search, looking for further details. Somehow she found an article in English. The name of their leader was Nigel A. Alroy. She couldn’t breathe. Six years ago, when Takahara was in Africa, this man had carried out a terrorist attack. He detonated six cars filled with explosives and attacked a police department. Fifty-six people had died.
One year ago, an air raid wiped out the entire village housing YG. Nigel Alroy, who was 72 at the time, had been killed. She searched his background. According to the articles, he’d been born in America, moved to Saudi Arabia, then began forming militias in Afghanistan, Lebanon and Central Africa. Born in America?
Takahara had said on the phone recording that Sawatari had had no knowledge of his plan. Could he have been working with this organization?
But they had been wiped out.
Could there be a remaining faction? But he’d been speaking in Japanese on the phone. Was there anyone who could speak Japanese in an African militia? I don’t think so. That’d be absurd.
She had to hide the computer. It might be her only connection to the outside world at this point. Tachibana kept thinking. She hadn’t expected this. She’d assumed someone would stop Takahara before he did anything—if not the leader then the police. At this point, it was too late.
Why hadn’t the police tried to go for the back door, or carry out a surprise attack? They could have captured whoever they wanted easily amid the believers’ confusion. But making such a big gesture and surrounding them with the riot police, and even letting the cult arm themselves—now there was nothing to be done. The second the riot police entered the building, there would be a shootout. It would be quite easy for all the believers to commit mass suicide.
And why had she been locked up? She couldn’t ask the other officers. Even their eyes were glittering with excitement. Just like the other believers, they were caught up in this experience so outside the realm of normal life, in their mysterious greater purpose.
What’s happening to Takahara-kun now? What is he . . . Tachibana noticed that there were many balled-up pieces of paper shoved in the ba
ck of the drawer. White printer paper. When she unfolded them, she saw the word “invocation.” It was hand-written, and traced over again and again. Invocation.
Tachibana couldn’t take her eyes off those letters.
Someone. I need someone, Tachibana found herself whispering. Her heart beat so fast it hurt. I don’t want to think about this by myself. This is beyond reason. I don’t want to be alone. I can’t bear to be in this place, alone like this. Someone . . . Tachibana left Takahara’s room. Narazaki floated up in the back of her mind.
17
A loud voice rang out, “Please remain calm.” Unsettling—a woman’s voice.
The riot police braced themselves. The TV cameras tried to capture who it was, but the speaker was hidden behind a curtain and couldn’t be seen. No one aside from the believers knew that it was officer Sugimoto.
“I will say this once again. Please remain calm. What is your goal?”
A murmur ran through the riot police. Remain calm? Normally that’s what the police would be saying to the criminals.
A reply came from a megaphone by one of the Metropolitan Police’s armored vans. “We have an arrest warrant for anyone connected with the abduction and detainment of two citizens. You will release your hostages immediately, and cooperate with our investigation.”
“Hostages?” the woman asked, sounding terribly surprised. “We don’t have any hostages. Are you talking about our two new members? They still have not completed their initiation ritual. They are not yet believers. We will release them immediately.”
A rustling spread through the riot police. Every television crew was broadcasting the scene from behind the cordoned-off area.
“May we please request that you stop trying to enter? In our faith, we cannot allow those not approved by the leader into this building. This is our sacred land. If you force your way inside, we will commit group suicide. These are our rules. We beg of you: Do not force your way in. We will release the two initiates. Please. Please, let us be. We are simply practicing our faith quietly.”
The situation had taken an odd turn. The man holding the megaphone was asking for his commander’s decision on a walkie-talkie. He relayed the will of the police headquarter’s main office.
“In that case, release your hostages immediately. It is also apparent that you possess a large number of weapons. We have a search warrant for that as well. Abandon your weapons and open the building.”
“We don’t have any weapons.”
“Open the building.”
“We don’t have any weapons. Just like there were no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. Just like bin Laden was not in Afghanistan.”
“We will provide you with a cell phone. We will then listen to your demands by phone.”
“We have no demands. We will release the two you speak of, and then we would like you to leave. We do not need your phone. You just don’t want this conversation to be broadcast by the mass media.”
The riot police had come to a standstill. The woman continued to speak.
“This doesn’t have anything to do with the upcoming election, does it? You aren’t doing this because you don’t want to hand over political control of the enormous, tremendous public works projects already in progress to another party, is it? America, too, has offered many concessions to our government, so they’re pressuring you to keep the current party in power, aren’t they? Are you just trying to make it look like Japan is strong to give yourselves a boost, since elections are coming up? Since internal politics have frozen in place, you’re trying to avert the people’s gaze to something external and provide them with a sense of unity. That’s always been the typical practice. But it doesn’t look like it will go well this time. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like any threatening missiles will come flying out of North Korea, like they did before the last election. And Korea and China haven’t been criticizing Japan much. Are you trying to win the election by acting like the ruling party is actually powerful? Do you think that this event will be helpful to remilitarize the country? Those who would criticize the government for forcibly suppressing terrorists have dwindled. No, the people would praise such an action. This may also be connected to your desire to extend policing power and increase police armaments. It’s strange that the riot police were sent out just because you suspect us of a crime. We can’t help but think that there’s some ulterior motive. To you it’s probably just a bit of a performance, resolving a hostage situation. But we don’t want to be involved in such a trivial matter.”
Her words bubbled through the crowd. On the other side of the rope cordoning off the area, television crews and reporters from newspapers and magazines gathered, watching the situation.
The police finally responded: “Stop these desperate comments. There’s no point in repeating this trash.”
“Do you think we haven’t noticed the Special Assault Team hiding on the other side of this building? Please, remain calm.”
The riot police did not move. An order was given. The TV cameras tried to capture the Special Assault Team, but they couldn’t.
“Oh, oh, we’re going to be attacked. We asked for calm, and now we’ll be killed violently. Even though we said we’d release our so-called hostages. Even though we’ve done nothing wrong. And after we die, nothing but the lie that we were a dangerous group will be told about us, to try to convince the public that it was the right thing to do. And since this has to do with national security, maybe—I can’t believe it, but maybe—the forceful tactics you used will be covered up by the State Secrecy Law. You wouldn’t do that, would you? You wouldn’t do that, would you? Oh, oh, we’re going to be attacked. Even though if we are attacked we have no choice but to die.”
All members of the riot police prepared their shields. The area grew tense. Will they do it? Can they really force their way into a situation like this? The reporters traded comments with each other. Really? In this situation? Though it wasn’t caught on film, the maneuvers of the Special Assault Team had stopped. The riot police were speechless at the information they had been sent via radio. The TV reporters broadcasting the scene grew frantic. One by one, every channel changed what they were showing, and the broadcasters for every network began to read the same report. Armed forces had infiltrated a broadcasting studio. But those who had been watching JBA saw something else. A young man holding an automatic rifle suddenly appeared on the screen. He seemed sad to be pointing a gun at a male newscaster.
18
The man pointing the gun at the newscaster was Sasahara. His mournful face suddenly burst into tears. As he cried, he faced the camera and spoke. “I beg you. Please remain calm.” He continued to cry. “We . . . We have no other choice. If our facilities are infiltrated, we, because of our beliefs, will have no choice but to commit group suicide . . . I beg you. Please leave them be.”
The newscaster shed tears as he watched Sasahara, stunned. Several employees of the station had been gathered in the studio, and surrounding them were more than ten men pointing guns.
“The moment this broadcast is stopped, we will kill them. This is not just being broadcast on TV. We have already connected to the Internet and spread this message to the whole world,” Sasahara continued. “We broke away from our main organization one year ago, and our group is not affiliated with them. However, we did not leave because we harbor any ill-will toward that group. We still intend to care for them. We want to save them. We want to save them from killing themselves. We have weapons, but there is not a single one in the facility. Those people pose no threat . . . Meanwhile, we have already broken into this news station. It was something that we had to do. But crimes are crimes. We shot a security guard who resisted. We didn’t kill him and have called an ambulance. But that does not change the fact that we shot him. We will take responsibility for our crimes. We are all prepared to abandon our weapons, release our hostages, and surrender to the police. All we ask, all
we ask, is that you please stop attempting to enter that facility. We beg you. Please remain calm. Let’s discuss this.”
The newscaster with the gun pointed at him couldn’t speak.
“We have one demand. That the government leave our facility alone entirely. Ignore it, as they have up until now. However, we cannot trust a simple verbal promise. We want the land our facility stands on to be recognized as an independent nation. If that is not possible, we would like it to be recognized as a special independent ward. There is precedent for this. If we cannot receive at least that, we will not put faith in any promises made. After all, the authorities promised the people of Japan for decades that nuclear power was completely safe—since Fukushima we have all seen what those promises were worth. No, we cannot put any faith in your words. So we would like official approval from the Cabinet to be recognized as an independent ward. If you cannot do that, it will put us in a difficult situation. We would also like acknowledgment that our leader is unrelated to these activities. The proper individuals will leave that facility and will undergo questioning. If necessary, they will be arrested. But we would like our leader alone to be left in peace. I believe this can be done. I believe you can do this for us. This has happened in the past, at the Tokyo War Crimes Trials. After Japan lost World War II, those guilty of war crimes were judged by the victorious nations. Some voiced opinions that the emperor who ruled Japan at the time should take responsibility for the war. But he was not tried. This was a matter of course. It was the government that had fought the war, and when it began, the emperor was against it. His rule was a total formality. In reality it was the government that handled all political matters. We do not see our leader and the emperor as being on the same level. There’s no way one could think that. We respect the great deity, the descendant of Amaterasu Ōkami. And as we are asking to be made an independent ward, we would happily join in this government. We are simply saying that we would like this precedent from the Tokyo War Crimes Trials, and this precedent alone, to be applied in our case as well. We would like you to refrain from laying a hand on our leader. We would like this to end with our surrender.”