n the factory, sealed as it was like a stainless-steel box, there was no way of knowing what the weather was like outside. As they dragged themselves back upstairs at 5.30, the first person in line let out a groan.

'Oh no! It's raining!' Instantly Masako thought of the trunk of her Corolla being pelted with rain. They would have to decide soon what they were going to do.

'You in a hurry today?' Yoshie asked as she pulled off her mask.

Bending over, she used it to wipe the grease off her shoes. 'Why?' Masako said, using her own mask to clean the sides of the sneakers she wore on the factory floor.

'Why? Because you look like you've seen a ghost and I want to know what's wrong.' Yoshie, who was shorter and rounder, glanced up at her tall, thin friend; but Masako had already stored her shoes in the cupboard and was staring out the window at the grey morning sky. She'd imagined a heavy rain, but it was a soft drizzle she saw falling on the test track of the car factory across the way.

'You'll put wrinkles on that face of yours with all that worrying,' Yoshie said, refusing to let the matter drop.

'Something important has come up,' Masako said, still lost in thought. She had begun to worry that Yayoi was planning to spend the day getting rid of Kenji's body, when what she really ought to do was go home and play the part of the worried wife. If she did, though, that left Masako to deal with the body, and it had just dawned on her that she would never be able to get it out of the trunk by herself. She studied Yoshie's attractive face for a moment and then made her decision. 'Skipper, I've got a favour to ask.'

'You know I'd do anything you want,' said Yoshie, who was always ready to help. 'I owe you a lot.' Masako, however, was still wondering just how to explain the situation as she got in line to punch out. Suddenly remembering that she should be keeping track of Yayoi, she looked around and saw her straggling up the stairs at the very end of the line. Kuniko, on the other hand, had hurried ahead and was waiting for them. She had obviously sensed that something was going on with Masako and Yayoi and would be sulking at being left out. Yoshie joined Masako in line. 'Can you keep a secret?' Masako asked, her tone quite serious. 'And who would I tell?' said Yoshie, sounding almost indignant.

'What is it?!' Still finding it difficult to actually say what Yayoi had done, Masako punched her time card and stood in silence for a moment, her arms folded across her chest.

'I'll tell you later,' she said eventually. 'When we're alone.'

'Okay,' Yoshie murmured, turning to look at the sky outside the window. Since she commuted on her bicycle, she was probably worried about the rain, Masako thought.

'But you can't even tell Kuniko,' she said.

'I promise.' From her friend's voice Yoshie had guessed that it was something important and let the matter drop for the moment.

They were about to turn the corner into the lounge when they heard Komada, the health inspector, telling Yayoi off.

'Yamamoto-san, make sure you wash your uniform today. We don't want to be treated to a third night of smelling that sauce.' Yayoi, after apologising, pulled off her cap and wandered over to where Masako was standing. Her hair stuck out at odd angles from her hairnet and there were dark circles under her eyes, but if anything she looked even better than usual. A part-time student worker with dyed blond hair who had taken off his own mask and cap stood staring at her, openly impressed.

Masako pulled her aside. 'You need to get home quickly and stay there.'

'But..., ' Yayoi murmured.

'The Skipper and I will handle it.'

'The Skipper?' she said doubtfully, glancing toward the changing room. 'Have you told her?'

'Not yet, but I won't be able to move it alone. If she won't do it, you'll have to. But you're going to be the first one they suspect, so if possible you should be at home pretending that nothing's happened.'

Yayoi sighed, seeming finally to understand what her role was.

'You're right,' she agreed.

'Go home, and do just what you always do,' Masako told her.

'Then, around noon, call your husband's office and ask if he's there. When they tell you he's not, say that he didn't come home last night and that you're very worried. If they tell you to file a missing persons report, do it. You need to do everything you can to avoid suspicion.'

'I will,' said Yayoi.

'And don't call me today. If something happens, I'll call you.'

'Masako,' she asked, 'what are you planning to do?'

'Just what you said we should,' she told her, smiling bitterly.

'That's the plan.'

Yayoi gasped, the colour draining from her cheeks. 'You really mean it?' Masako stared for a moment at her pale face before answering.

'Yes. At least I'm going to try.'

'I don't know how to thank you,' Yayoi said, her eyes swimming. 'I can't believe you'd do this for me.'

'Don't thank me yet,' said Masako. 'I don't know if I'll be able to manage it or not. But I think it's better than burying it in the mountains. It's got to vanish without a trace. We don't want any evidence at all.'

When her turn had come, Masako had gone to use the bathroom, and it was there she decided that Yayoi's suggestion had been the right one. As she stared at the large blue plastic pails by the bathroom door, she knew it was the only workable plan. 'But it's a crime,' Yayoi murmured, as if suddenly thinking better of it. 'I don't want to drag you into this.'

'I know,' said Masako. 'But I'm going to try to look at it as just one more unpleasant job. And getting it picked up with the trash is the best way, afterward. That is, if it doesn't bother you. It's your husband we're going to chop up and toss out. Are you sure you can handle that?'

'Yes,' said Yayoi, a faint smile playing across her lips again.

'Actually, it serves him right.'

'You're scary,' said Masako, watching her intently.

'So are you,' said Yayoi.

'No, it's not quite the same for me.'

'Why not?'

'Because I'm treating this as just a job.' Yayoi looked slightly puzzled.

'Masako-san,' she said, 'what did you do before you came to work here?'

'The same as you. I had a husband, and a child, and a job. But I was alone.' Yayoi looked down, perhaps to hide her tears, and her shoulders drooped. 'No crying, now,' Masako said, patting her gently on the back. 'It's all over, and you're the one who ended it.'

Yayoi nodded as her friend shepherded her into the lounge.

Yoshie and Kuniko had already changed and were sitting together drinking coffee. Kuniko was watching them suspiciously, a thin cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth.

'Kuniko, would you mind going on ahead today? There's something I've got to talk over with the Skipper,' Masako told her.

Kuniko shot a questioning look at Yoshie.

'What could it be that doesn't include me?' she wondered aloud.

'A loan,' said Yoshie. 'You know, money that you borrow.'

As in, I'm borrowing money from Masako.' At this, Kuniko nodded a bit reluctantly, shouldered her fake Chanel bag, and stood up.

Masako waved quickly and went into the changing room, while Yoshie, satisfied with her ruse to get rid of Kuniko, sipped at her paper cup of sugary coffee.

Masako changed quickly and then casually picked up two plastic aprons that belonged to women who had apparently moved on to other jobs. She slipped them into her bag. She had also stuffed several pairs of latex gloves in her pocket. Going back to the lounge, she sat down next to Yoshie. The tatami mat was still warm where Kuniko had been sitting. As she was pulling out her cigarettes, Yayoi, who had also changed, came up and began to sit down with them, but Masako warned her off with a nod. 'Well, I'll be going then,' Yayoi said, obviously reluctant to do so; and she wandered off towards the door, turning several times to look back anxiously at Masako.

As she disappeared around the corner, Yoshie whispered urgently: 'What's this all about? I won't be able to stand it if you don't tell me.'

'Just listen and try not to act shocked,' Masako said, looking her straight in the eye. 'Yayoi's killed her husband.' Yoshie's mouth hung open for a moment, her chapped lips trembling. 'Not act shocked...?' she whispered at last.

'I know,' said Masako. 'But it's true, and there's no way to undo it. I've decided to try to help her, and I want to know if you'll help, too.'

'Are you out of your mind?!' Yoshie shrieked, but then, realising there were people around, lowered her voice. 'She should go turn herself in - right now.'

'But she's got little kids, and he was beating her. She did it in self-defence. You can see the relief on her face.'

'But she killed him,' Yoshie gulped.

'How many times have you thought you'd like to kill your mother-in-law?' Masako watched her face stiffen.

'Lots,' she said, draining her coffee cup. 'But thinking about it and actually doing it are two different things.'

'They are. But something made Yayoi cross that line. And it does happen, doesn't it, Skipper? That's why I'm going to do what I can to help.'

'Do what!?' Yoshie's voice rang out across the room this time and nearly everyone turned to look. The group of Brazilian men, camped out in their usual spot against the wall, peered curiously at her. 'There's nothing you can do,' she continued, seeming to shrink into herself. 'Nothing.'

'Still, I'm going to try,' said Masako.

'But why should you? Why should I? The whole thing gives me the creeps - becoming accomplices to a murder.'

'Not accomplices,' Masako insisted. 'We didn't kill him.'

'But I'm sure they send people to jail too for dumping dead bodies.'

'Yes, maybe,' said Masako. 'Dumping them.. or dismantling them a bit, either one.'

'What do you mean?' said Yoshie, her tongue running back and forth over her lips as she tried to cope with this new puzzle. 'What are you planning to do?'

'I'm going to cut him up and throw away the pieces. Then Yayoi can go on just as before, as though nothing's happened. They'll register her husband as missing, and that'll be the end of it.'

'Forget it,' said Yoshie, shaking her head stubbornly. 'I couldn't. Not that.'

'Fine,' said Masako, reaching across the table with her hand open. 'Then pay back the money I lent you last night. Now.' Yoshie sat quietly for a time, a pained expression on her face, while Masako stubbed out her cigarette in the empty coffee cup. A repellent smell of sugar, instant coffee and ashes briefly filled their nostrils; but Masako ignored it and lit another cigarette.

'All right then,' said Yoshie finally, having apparently made up her mind. 'I can't give you back the money, so I guess I'll have to help.'

'Thank you. I knew I could count on you, Skipper.'

'But there's one thing you've got to tell me,' said Yoshie, looking up at her. 'I'm doing this because you helped me out, but why would you be willing to do something like this for Yayoi?'

'I'm not sure I know myself,' said Masako. 'But I can tell you this: if you'd been the one in this fix, I'd have done the same for you.' There seemed nothing left to say, and Yoshie fell silent.

***

Nearly everyone else had left the factory when Masako and Yoshie walked down the stairs at the main entrance. A gentle, earlymorning rain was falling, and Yoshie went to get the umbrella she'd left in the rack next to the door. Masako hadn't brought one and was facing a wet walk to the parking lot.

'I'll see you at my house at nine, then,' she said.

'I'll be there,' said Yoshie, straddling her bicycle and pedalling wearily off into the rain. Masako watched her go and then started for the parking lot at a brisk pace; but before she'd gone more than a few steps she noticed a man standing in the shadow of the sycamore trees that lined the road. It was Kazuo Miyamori, dressed now in a white T-shirt, jeans and a black cap. He was staring at his feet and holding out a clear plastic umbrella, without making any effort to keep his own head covered, which was soaking wet.

'How do you say "Go to hell" in Brazilian?' Masako said as she walked past him. He looked up, apparently confused, and started after her.

'Umbrella,' he said, waving it at her.

'I don't want it,' she said, brushing it away. 'Not from you.' The umbrella fell on the cracked sidewalk and lay there. The road was deserted and the clatter it made echoed in the silence. Masako could sense that Kazuo was taken aback. She remembered the hurt look on his face two nights ago when Yayoi had ignored his greeting. He's just a baby, she thought. She realised that he was following her, and as she turned to look at him it occurred to her that his lost expression made things more complicated. But the dark eyes under the brim of the cap were the same ones she'd seen in the reddish moonlight the night before.

'Leave me alone!' she shouted at him.

'I'm sorry,' he said, coming quickly around in front of her and placing his hands on his solid chest. She knew this meant he was apologising 'with all his heart', but she still ignored him and turned right, down the street that led by the abandoned factory, the street where he had attacked her. She could tell that he was still following her, but she felt only a vague apprehension and the desire to drive the memories of the attack out of her head.

'Will you come tonight?' he asked.

'You're dreaming,' she said.

'But... ' he murmured as she broke into a run. The delivery bay of the old factory came quickly into view. The brown metal shutters where he had pinned her showed no sign of any dents as they went on rusting in the rain. The grass she had trampled in her attempt to get away bore no trace of the struggle. Suddenly, she was filled with rage that everything could go on as before, as if nothing had happened. The humiliation and self-loathing of last night came rushing back and she stopped, waiting for him to reach her. She was so furious she didn't know what she might do; but Kazuo, unsuspecting, approached, with the umbrella now in his hand again, and stood looking at her.

'Now get this straight,' she hissed. 'If you ever try this again I'm going to the police... and to management and you'll be out of a job.'

'I understand,' he said, nodding as if in relief. Then his dark face looked up at her. She finally realised that he'd been terrified that she would tell someone.

'Don't get all excited. I haven't forgiven you for anything.' She turned on her heel and walked away, and this time she knew he wasn't following her. She didn't turn around until she reached the entrance to the parking lot, but when she did, she could see him still standing where she'd left him.

'Idiot!' she wanted to call out, but she suppressed the urge, unsure exactly who to take it out on. She looked around for her Corolla and found it parked in the same spot. She tried to imagine the object in the trunk, and it suddenly seemed strange beyond belief that dawn had come as usual, that it should be raining so normally, when that utterly lifeless thing was still in there. And then she realised that everything, even that pig of a young man who'd just been apologising to her so desperately, only reminded her of the body in the trunk; and it wasn't really the Miyamori boy she wanted to punish so much as the lifeless Kenji - and herself for getting caught up in all this.

She unlocked the trunk and opened it a bit. Peeking in, she could see grey pants and a few inches of hairy leg sticking out below the cuff - exactly the place Yayoi had touched the night before to see if the body was still warm. The skin was pale, and the hair seemed slightly dirty somehow, like a fraying rag. 'A thing. It's just a thing,' she muttered, closing the trunk.