His flashlight lay on the floor near the foot of the ladder, spreading a cone of light across the floor. Maybe the man didn’t have a flashlight.
“Damn, my leg hurts.” The shape behind Kotaro collapsed into a crouch, as though he’d been holding back the pain. “I’m getting too old for the rough stuff.”
Kotaro’s breathing finally calmed down, but he stayed leaning against the wall as he examined the old man. He was bundled up in a down jacket, gloves, and several layers of clothes. Medium height, once of medium build but tending to chubbiness now. A formidable man, but maybe older than he looked by the way he was doubled up with pain.
“Are you okay?”
The old man was supporting himself with the crowbar, but he still seemed about to topple over. He was groaning.
“Did you hurt yourself? I didn’t do anything.”
“Help me up.” The man held out his hand. “See the cardboard around the base of the ladder? Help me over there.”
It was only now that Kotaro noticed the layers of cardboard spread beneath the ladder.
“Is this where you live?”
“Oh, for—knock it off. Would you give me a hand, please?” The man was almost shouting at him.
Kotaro anxiously detached himself from the wall to help the old man, who clung to him as he stood up, using the crowbar as a cane. The point of the bar made a metallic scraping sound on the floor.
“Where’d you learn about opening doors with things like this?”
“I saw it on TV.”
The distance from the wall to the foot of the ladder was only a few yards, but the man could only manage one shuffling step at a time. Together they weaved across the floor.
“But I’ve never done it before. That’s the truth.”
“The things you can learn on TV these days.”
Despite his shuffling gait, Kotaro revised his opinion of the man clutching him by the shoulder. He wasn’t weak at all. His voice was strong and his body was thickly muscled.
“That’s far enough. Help me sit down.”
The man groaned again. Kotaro helped him into a sitting position. From there he toppled over onto his side.
He’d been quite heavy. This was no old man after all. He didn’t seem to be injured, but he was still in a lot of pain. Maybe he’s sick or something.
“Um …” Kotaro felt uncomfortable talking down to him, so he squatted beside him. His forehead glistened with sweat. “Do you have arthritis? Or like, a herniated disc?”
The man frowned but said nothing. Maybe he didn’t want to talk about it. His eyes were almost closed.
“Shall I call an ambulance?”
“No! That would just be more trouble for me. You too. We’re breaking and entering, you and me both.”
“All I did was walk through an unlocked door.”
The man sighed deeply. He raised a gloved hand and wiggled his fingers. “ID.”
“Oh, right.” Kotaro quickly pulled his student ID from his backpack and handed it over.
“Light.”
Kotaro shined his light on the card. The man peered at it with one eye. He was still in pain. Back pain? Maybe it was his knees.
“Kotaro Mishima.”
“That’s me.”
“What’s your relationship with Morinaga?”
“So you actually know him?”
“Relationship.” This man could corner people with his voice alone.
“We work at the same place.”
“What kind of work?”
“It’s a company called Kumar.”
The man made a face. Kumar wasn’t a real informative name in situations like this. “We do cyber patrol work.”
“Internet security. Okay.” He actually knew what Kotaro was talking about. “You said you were looking for this guy. Where is he?”
“How do I know? That’s why I’m here. He’s missing.”
The man opened both eyes in surprise. “What did you say?”
“He’s been missing since the night of the fourth. Listen, um …” The fierce expression was getting a little scary. Why did he look so grim? “They found his smartphone near here. It was completely smashed.”
“Did you file a missing-persons report?”
“I’m sure one was submitted. His hometown is near Niigata. His father’s concerned enough that he’s already on his way.”
Instead of looking convinced, the man eyed Kotaro even more fiercely.
“There’s a machine room over there. See?” Still on his side, the man waved Kotaro’s ID in the direction of the door. “There’s a bag with my gear just inside. Bring it here.”
Kotaro did as he was told. He found the old Boston bag inside the door. It was fairly heavy.
“Here’s your ID. Put it away. Now help me up.”
Kotaro gave the man his hand and pulled him to a sitting position on the cardboard. He exhaled slowly, unlatched the bag and drew out a Thermos bottle.
Kotaro could see a laptop in the bag. Another surprise. It was unusual to see people this age carrying laptops. In that case, it might not be surprising that he knew right away what Kumar did.
“Mishima.”
Kotaro glanced up. The man was taking pills with water from the Thermos.
“Painkiller. It takes about ten minutes to kick in.” He put the sheet of pills back in the bag. “When that happens, my brain will start working better. Until then, I want to hear your story. Tell me about this Morinaga.”
“He’s an engineering major, third year. A very serious guy. He’s planning to go straight to graduate school.”
The man nodded and held the Thermos out. “Water? It’s hot.”
Kotaro must’ve looked like he needed some. He was very tempted. The cold was starting to get to him.
“No, I’m fine. Thanks anyway.”
The man put the Thermos back in the bag. “As far as I know,” he said, “Morinaga was looking for an old man who disappeared.”
How does he know all this?
“When did you see Kenji?” Kotaro asked. “Where—”
“Not yet. My ten minutes aren’t up yet. Sorry, brain’s still off.”
He was like a teacher correcting a slow student. In the beam of light, his pale face and muscular voice suddenly reminded Kotaro of the PTA chairman from his grade school days. The man was the president of a local construction firm and more impressive-looking than the principal. He always had a stern expression when he talked.
The man shoved a driver’s license at the tip of Kotaro’s nose.
“This is me.”
Kotaro took the license and shined the light on it. Shigenori Tsuzuki. The man in the picture was trimmer than the one in front of him.
“I live in the neighborhood.”
Kotaro nodded. The address was in Wakaba.
“See the DOB? I’m sixty-three. I could be your grandfather. Show some respect.”
I think I’ve been doing that.
“It’s spinal stenosis.”
“What?”
“Not arthritis, not a disc problem. No other health issues. If I have to, I can go at it with you again before the night’s over. Unless you want to kiss that wall all over again, tell me how you found this place—fast. I handle security for the district association,” he added, seeing Kotaro’s look of confusion.
Do district associations have security people this aggressive?
“See, I’m an ex-cop. I even worked at MPD headquarters for a while.”
Kotaro could believe it. Now he knew why this man was so intimidating. His old PTA chairman couldn’t hold a candle to this guy.
“Maybe you believe me, maybe you don’t, but I’ll tell you something: I’ve dealt with armed robbers and murderers and arsonists longer than you’ve been alive. Know what they all h
ave in common?”
Kotaro said nothing. He just shook his head.
“They lie. I know how to handle liars. If you lie to me, I’ll know. Understand?”
Kotaro nodded. “Yes, I understand. But I’m not lying. It’s just a really strange story.”
Shigenori Tsuzuki, ex-detective, gave Kotaro a skeptical look through narrowed eyelids.
“First I want to show you something.” Kotaro pulled his backpack closer and brought out his laptop. He pulled off his gloves, booted up, clicked on the photo of Mana’s sketch and turned the screen toward Shigenori.
His face was lit by the ghostly light from the screen. He seemed surprised, then dumbfounded.
“I think this picture and the gargoyle up on the roof here are connected,” Kotaro said.
Shigenori’s eyes were glued to the screen. “Who drew this?”
Interest mingled with astonishment. Kotaro suddenly relaxed. He didn’t know why, but this man and he were pursuing the same riddle.
He told Shigenori everything that had happened, in chronological order—from Kenji asking him to act as insurance until his first sighting, earlier today, of the tea caddy building, including every person he’d met and every rumor he’d heard. Partway through his account he started shivering and wrapped his arms around himself. The hand warmers he’d brought along weren’t good for more than temporary relief from the cold.
When he finished, Shigenori brought out the Thermos again. This time Kotaro accepted the steaming water gratefully. His hands were shaking so much that he almost dropped the cup.
“So Cart Man isn’t the only missing person.” Shigenori said pensively. “That’s what people in the neighborhood called Kozaburo Ino.”
The heat of the water spread pleasantly in Kotaro’s stomach. “Kenji said the police wouldn’t do anything in a case like this.”
“He was probably right,” Shigenori said with a touch of remorse. He was sitting more comfortably now. Maybe the painkiller was finally working.
“So after all this, you didn’t visit the FM station? Or Kadoma Coffee?”
“My boss told me to stop looking for Kenji.”
“He has good judgment. Too much digging could complicate things once the real investigation starts. You could even end up as a suspect.”
Kotaro shrugged, trying to look nonchalant.
“You found your way here with nothing but this picture for a clue.” Shigenori stared at the laptop screen. “You’ve got a good nose.”
That sounds like praise.
“Okay, let me show you something interesting. Climb up that ladder and take a look around the roof.”
Kotaro looked up at the hatch in the ceiling.
“When you let the hatch down, don’t shut it tight. If you shut it all the way, you’ll make a lot of noise getting it open again.” That would explain why it was so freezing cold. “Be quiet and be careful. There’s a lot of light from the buildings and neon. You won’t need the flashlight.”
Kotaro stood up. He blew on his hands and rubbed them together before picking his gloves off the floor and putting them back on. He took a firm grip on the ladder rail, climbed up and lifted the hatch. It was lighter than he expected. It looked like you could put a dent in it with your fist, but the latch was strong.
He raised his head quietly above the level of the roof.
“The gargoyle is to your left,” Shigenori called from below. Kotaro shifted his gaze left.
The lights of West Shinjuku fell dimly across the roof of the building. The air stabbed icily into his nostrils, making his eyes water.
There was no statue. Kotaro held the hatch open with one hand and scanned the whole roof. It was definitely gone. There was nothing to be seen anywhere on that round platform.
“It’s gone. But what’s all that stuff spread across the roof?
“Pieces of the statue.”
“Did someone smash it?”
Kotaro started to climb up, but Shigenori tugged on his jeans. “Get down here.”
He lowered the hatch, climbed halfway down the ladder and jumped to the floor. “I just saw that statue a few hours ago. I even took pictures.”
“I believe it. In the daytime it’s right where it’s supposed to be.”
“When was it shattered?”
“I’m not sure. When I was here last year, before Christmas, the fragments were already there.”
Now it was Kotaro’s turn to furrow his brow.
“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Shigenori used the same expression that Kenji had. “Truly curious. The original statue was smashed to pieces somehow. The statue you saw is the replacement. In the daytime, anyway. After dark it has a habit of disappearing. Tonight’s no different. I got here less than an hour ago and it was already gone. I didn’t think it would make its move so soon.”
A monster from the sky. It descended to this building, wings spread. And at night, using its wings again, it moved about the city.
“I thought about this and came up with a logical explanation,” Kotaro said, “but now and then I step back and look at it, and it makes me laugh. I mean, a statue that flies around? It’s total BS.”
Shigenori stared at him. “I agree with you. Completely. Here’s what I know.”
When the ex-detective got to the end of his account, Kotaro was thoroughly chilled. “I need to find a restroom.”
“No toilets here.”
“I know. I’ll be right back.”
Kotaro picked up the flashlight and trotted downstairs. At first his legs were so numb from the cold that he almost stumbled.
He’d seen a coffee chain outlet on the way. Luckily, it was still open. That’s Shinjuku for you. He ordered two coffees, paid with loose change, and headed for the restroom.
He hadn’t left the tea caddy building just to answer nature’s call. He wanted to think. The ex-detective was intimidating, but he had a reassuring aura. His words were convincing. But would it be wise to trust him?
Maybe we’re both crazy. That was a possibility. But I don’t see how we could be.
Even alone, with time to think, surrounded by the city in all its mundane reality, it didn’t seem possible that they were sharing a hallucination.
He left the shop with the coffees in a paper bag and retraced his steps to the front of the tea caddy building. He took a moment to stand on the other side of the street and look up at it. For some reason it looked brighter from a distance. The closer he got to the foot of the building, the thicker the darkness became.
When he got back to the fourth floor, Shigenori was on the ladder, peering out the hatch. He heard Kotaro’s footsteps, lowered the latch and clambered down. “No change.”
Shigenori sat cross-legged on the cardboard and chuckled. “Feel better? Get a chance to cool off?” He’d known what Kotaro was thinking.
“Yeah, sorry about that.”
“I know how you feel. I was regretting it myself, spilling all that information to a kid.”
Kotaro was silent a moment before he pointed out, “Maybe we both needed someone to talk to about this.”
“You’re probably right.” Shigenori chuckled wryly. Kotaro felt suddenly relieved.
“Mr. Tsuzuki? At the very least, I think both of us have done the right thing so far.”
“Maybe. We’ll find out. Coffee, huh? How much?”
“It’s okay.”
“I’m not letting someone young enough to be my grandson buy me coffee.” Shigenori accepted the cup happily.
“When you’re on stakeout, don’t you try to avoid too much fluid?”
“Not me. I have a huge bladder. That’s what happens to most cops.” The light steam and aroma from their cups spread out into the freezing air.
“Why don’t we just sit on the roof?”
“There’s no place to hide. Wha
tever we can see will see us too.”
“Maybe we could hide under some of this cardboard.”
“We’d stick out like a sore thumb. If that gargoyle, or someone pretending to be a gargoyle, sees us, that’s the end of the stakeout.”
“Why don’t you ask somebody in the neighborhood to let you set up a telescope in the window? That way you wouldn’t run the risk of being seen. Or attacked.”
“Why don’t you do it yourself, then?”
“I don’t have connections. You live around here.”
“I don’t want to get other people involved.” Shigenori’s tone was brusque. Kotaro felt a stab of regret. Shigenori had told him about the elderly woman who’d ended up in the hospital after he asked her to get involved.
“That woman—in your local association—”
“Mrs. Chigusa?”
“How’s she doing? Why don’t you call the head of the association and find out?”
Shigenori pressed a button on his watch. The face lit up. It was past 11:30. “He went to bed a long time ago. Old people turn in early.”
“I hope she’s okay.”
“You’ve got a phone too, don’t you?”
Kotaro showed him.
“I thought young people all had smartphones now.”
“Somehow I never get around to getting one.”
Kotaro was one of the few people at Kumar, or on campus, who still used a simple flip phone, though it did offer limited web access. A lot of people thought this was fairly strange.
“Anyway, I can do whatever I want with the laptop.”
“That’s what real net jockeys do, or so I hear. Okay, let’s synchronize our watches. We’ll take turns checking the roof every half hour.”
“Once an hour for each of us, then. Until six?”
“Yeah. No alarm.”
“Naturally. Set for vibe.”
Shigenori watched carefully as Kotaro set his alert. “Set it for me,” he said awkwardly, handing him his phone.
“Sure.” He couldn’t help chuckling. He set Shigenori’s alert. “So I guess we just wait.”
“That’s what stakeouts are like.”
“If I don’t talk, I’m going to freeze to death. Do you mind?”
“Keep your voice down.”