he wind, which before had been howling ominously in the upper reaches of the sky, had died down while she was in the restaurant, but now the air was warm and close, announcing the approach of the typhoon. With her hair plastered to her head, Masako found herself worrying how the weather would be in the morning, after the shift. She turned on the radio in the car, but she reached the factory before she could find a weather report.

In one corner of the parking lot, a small, prefabricated guardhouse was under construction. She stared at it for a moment, but her mind was elsewhere, preoccupied with Jumonji's proposal. Before fully realising what she was doing, she'd entered a new and very foreign world; and regardless of whether her decision had been the right one, she was excited by the mere fact of having made it. There was something almost amusing about the way her new concern had driven the familiar sights and sounds of the parking lot right out of her head.

As she slipped out of her tennis shoes in the entrance hall of the factory, she realised that a woman she didn't at first recognise was standing in front of her.

'Masako.' The voice was familiar - Yayoi's. Her shoulder-length hair had been cut short, revealing the graceful nape of her neck. Her eyebrows had been drawn on, narrow and arched, and she wore red lipstick. The change was startling, and it was more than just her appearance. The dreamy, ineffectual Yayoi was gone, replaced by a woman who seemed younger but more certain of herself.

'Sorry,' Masako said. 'You startled me. I didn't know who it was at first. You're a different person.'

'So they tell me.' She smiled bashfully, but even this familiar gesture seemed more confident. 'But you look different yourself. You're wearing make-up.'

'What?'

'The lipstick,' Yayoi said. Masako had completely forgotten that she'd put it on in the bathroom at the restaurant. When she touched her finger to her lips, it came away stained sticky red. 'Don't,' said Yayoi, taking her hand. 'You'll wipe it off. Leave it. It looks nice on you.'

'Are you starting back today?' Masako asked.

'No, I just came by to show my face. I brought some cakes and wanted to apologise to the boss and Komada-san for all the trouble I've caused.'

'Then you're heading home?'

'With the typhoon, I wanted to be home with the boys. They say it'll come inland by the morning.'

'Then you should get home.'

'I also paid Kuniko and the Skipper,' she whispered close to Masako's ear, pressing a thick brown envelope into her hand.

'What's this?' Masako asked. Ignoring the question, Yayoi gave a quick bow.

'I start again tomorrow. See you then,' she said, slipping past her through the door. Her whole manner was different, brisker and more self-assured than the old Yayoi. Masako ran after her as she marched across the green Astroturf and down the stairs.

'Wait,' she called. Yayoi turned, smiling brightly. 'What's in here?' said Masako, waving the envelope. Yayoi held up two fingers - the two million yen she'd promised. 'Did you get the insurance already?' Masako asked in a softer voice.

Yayoi shook her head: 'No, not yet. I told my parents I needed to pay off a loan. I didn't want you to have to wait any longer.'

'You didn't need to do that.'

'I prefer it this way. Kuniko was getting impatient, and I know how much the Skipper needs it. I just felt like it was time.'

'Still, it seems too soon.'

'I know, but this way I can finally feel free of the whole thing.' Masako had wanted to say that it was too soon for Yayoi to have changed so radically, but she knew the comment would have fallen on deaf ears. Masako herself had changed - it was natural enough that Yayoi should want to, too.

'I understand,' she said. 'Thanks.' Yayoi gave a quick wave and disappeared down the stairs into the humid darkness.

Masako went back inside. After the health inspection, she skirted the lounge and headed straight for the bathroom. Once she was safely in a stall, she opened the envelope. Inside she found two bundles of ¥10,000 bills, still in their bank wrappers. As she shoved them to the bottom of her bag, she realised that this toilet stall was the only place in the factory where you could find any privacy.

Back in the lounge, she found Yoshie and Kuniko sipping tea together. They had already changed for work and were talking quietly, but their faces betrayed a kind of giddy excitement.

'Did you see Yayoi?' Yoshie called, waving for Masako to join them.

'I ran into her on her way out.'

'Did you get it?'

'You mean money?'

'We got ¥500,000 apiece,' she said. Kuniko looked down, her cheeks flushed with pleasure. Hers will be gone in no time, Masako thought. And now that she's had a taste of easy money, there was no telling what she'd do next time. They would have to watch her.

'I imagine it was hard for her to come up with it,' said Kuniko.

'I'm sure it was. I told her we could wait, but she insisted,' Yoshie said, though she couldn't help still sounding cheerful at this sudden windfall.

'Then don't worry about it,' Masako said.

'And you don't mind?' asked Yoshie, giving her a concerned look. Masako shook her head and smiled. She had rationalised the fact that she was getting more - and hiding it from them - by telling herself that the money could be used, if-necessary, for a getaway, or as working capital for this new business. Since she was going to use it for the good of the group, she had no qualms about keeping it secret in the meantime.

'It's fine,' she said.

'Well, we're grateful,' said Kuniko, clutching the bag that held her share as if someone might try to snatch it from her. Masako glanced at her, fighting to control her temper.

'This means you can repay your loans,' she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Kuniko smiled vaguely but said nothing. 'What are you going to do with it while you're downstairs?' she asked, as she was pulling back her hair and fastening it with a barrette.

'We were just talking about that,' Yoshie told her, looking around the room. 'We thought we'd ask someone to put it in a locker.' The only people entitled to lockers were the regular employees who'd been there three years or more, and the Brazilians, who were said to be more concerned about their privacy. But the number of regular employees was almost too small to count.

'Maybe I should ask Miyamori-san?' said Yoshie, turning again to look around her. She found Kazuo sitting in a corner of the room with the rest of the Brazilians. He was smoking a cigarette, his legs stretched out in front of him on the floor. His eyes seemed to avoid the corner where Masako and her friends were sitting.

'What about Komada-san?' Masako suggested. As health inspector, Komada was one of the few regular employees; but as she said her name, Masako realised it would be unwise to let her know they'd come into large sums of money. 'No, maybe not,' she corrected herself.

'No, I've got a feeling we can trust Miyamori to keep quiet about it,' Yoshie said. 'I'll go ask him.'

'Will he understand you?' Kuniko sounded sceptical, but Yoshie ignored her and got to her feet.

When he saw Yoshie approaching, Kazuo shot Masako a questioning glance. She could see the wounded look in his eyes as he waited to hear what Yoshie had to say. Masako would have preferred to avoid any dealings with him, but it was none of her business what those two did with their money.

Pretending to ignore the whole transaction, she went to change. She slipped into her white uniform and then shoved the envelope far down in the pocket of her work pants; it would be awkward, to say the least, if it fell out during the shift. Through the line of hangers, she could see Yoshie and Kazuo together. She had apparently just finished her explanation, and Kazuo rose and left the lounge with the two women in tow. The Brazilians had a line of lockers next to the bathroom.

As Masako was scrubbing her hands and arms at the sink in the hall, the other two came back.

'That's a relief,' Yoshie said, picking up the little brush Masako had been using. 'He's a nice guy.' Kuniko turned on the water at a spigot well down the line.

'Did he understand what you wanted?' Masako asked.

'He seemed to. We told him we had something valuable we wanted to store in his locker, and he agreed right away. He said he'd be a little late getting off work and to please wait for him. He was very polite.'

'I'm glad it worked out,' said Masako, looking up just in time to see him walk by on his way to the factory floor. His build was so different from Japanese men - the thick neck planted on a powerful chest. His deeply chiselled face looked straight ahead as he passed. A man who would have been in his element under the Latin American sun seemed sadly out of place in the white uniform and ridiculous cap of a Japansese night-shift worker. She wondered whether he still had the key; but what really puzzled her was why this young foreigner should be attracted to her at all.

***

Work on the line stopped earlier than usual that morning, due to the typhoon. The part-time women sighed gloomily as they looked out the window in the entrance. Dawn had brought the storm with it. The rain fell sideways in heavy sheets, and the spindly pagoda trees around the car factory across the way seemed ready to snap in the wind. The gutters on both sides of the road were flowing like small rivers.

Yoshie frowned as she stared out at the storm. 'I don't think I'll be able to ride a bike in this.'

'I can give you a lift,' Masako offered.

'Could you?' She looked relieved. 'I'd really appreciate it.' Pretending she hadn't heard this exchange, Kuniko busied herself with her time card. 'I hate to ask,' Yoshie added, 'but would you mind waiting till Miyamori-san finishes work?'

'Not a bit.'

'I'll meet you at the parking lot.'

'No, I'll go get the car and pick you up here.'

'Thanks,' said Yoshie, glaring at Kuniko's broad back as she marched obliviously down the hall.

Masako changed quickly and left the factory. The heavy skies of the night before had burst open, pelting the earth with rain and wind, but to her it seemed almost refreshing. Realising that her umbrella was useless, she closed it and decided to run the short distance to the parking lot. The rain fell in enormous drops, soaking her in a matter of seconds. She brushed the hair out of her eyes, worried only about the bag of money she clutched in front of her as she ran. When she reached the abandoned factory, she could see that the concrete cover on the culvert was still where Kazuo had left it. The sound of roaring water rose from the hole, and it crossed her mind that Kenji's other belongings - apart from the key - must have been washed away. As she ran on, buffeted by the wind, she pictured that torrent to herself, and a laugh rose in her throat. She too would be free! The very thought made her feel freer.

When she reached the Corolla, she slipped into the driver's seat without stopping to brush off her wet clothes. She found a rag she kept under the dashboard and wiped her arms. Her jeans, heavy with rain, seemed to tighten around her legs. She turned the windshield wipers to the highest setting to see if they could keep up with the downpour and switched on the defrost. The blast of cold air brought goose bumps to her damp skin.

Easing the car out of the parking lot, she retraced her way to the factory. As she pulled up in front, Kuniko was just coming down the stairs, as flashily dressed as usual in a baggy black T-shirt and flowered tights. She glanced at Masako's car, but then opened her blue umbrella and walked off in the storm without a word. Masako watched in the rear-view mirror as the wind pulled her along. Perhaps they could still work together at the factory, but she resolved never to have anything to do with her beyond that. And as she watched in the mirror, Kuniko seemed to fade into the flood, as if in response to the thought.

Yoshie was coming down the stairs now, and she was surprised to see Kazuo following her, his clear plastic umbrella held out over her head. His black cap was pulled down around his ears. Catching sight of Masako's car, Yoshie hurried over and tapped on the window.

'Sorry to bother you,' she said, squinting against the rain, 'but d'you mind opening the trunk?'

'Why?' said Masako.

'I think he's saying he'll put my bike in for me.' She pointed behind her and Masako found herself staring into Kazuo's clear, innocent eyes. Without a word, she pulled the lever that released the trunk. The top popped open, obscuring the view through the rear window. But just at that moment the wind picked up and the top began to flap alarmingly. Masako opened the door and hopped out into the pelting rain.

'You'll get soaked!' Yoshie called. 'Get in!' She had to yell to make herself heard over the howling wind.

'I'm already soaked!' Masako yelled back.

'Get in!' Kazuo said, coming over to her and pressing firmly on her shoulder. Having little choice, Masako crawled back inside. A moment later, Yoshie tumbled into the passenger seat.

'It's awful out there,' she said. Kazuo, who had apparently gone around to the bike racks behind the building, came back pushing Yoshie's bicycle. He picked it up with ease and started manoeuvring it into the trunk. It was a heavy old bike that Yoshie used mainly for shopping, but he somehow managed to load it so that only a bit of the front wheel protruded. Getting out to check, Masako could see that the trunk was almost shut; she should be able to drive.

'Get in,' she said. He looked up at her, his face as wet as if he'd been swimming. His white T-shirt clung to his body, and there on his chest hung the key. He raised a hand to shield it from her eyes.

'Thanks,' she said.

'You're welcome,' he answered, without smiling. The wind shrieked by and a branch tumbled between them.

'Get in,' she repeated. 'I'll give you a ride.' Shaking his head, he picked up the umbrella he'd left on the ground, opened it, and walked off toward the abandoned factory.

'What was that all about?' Yoshie said, turning to look at his receding figure when Masako had climbed back in the car.

'I'm not sure,' said Masako. She avoided looking in the mirror as she pulled away from the kerb.

'It was nice of him, though,' Yoshie murmured, wiping her face with a towel. 'I'm lost without that bike.' Masako said nothing, peering out at the road through the frantic rhythm of the wipers. She turned on her headlights when they pulled on to the highway, noticing that the other cars had theirs on as well. They crept along, the spray splashing from their tyres. Yoshie tried to suppress a yawn as she said apologetically, 'Sorry to bring you so far out of your way. And I'm afraid your trunk's getting wet.' Through the rear-view mirror, Masako could see the top of the trunk bobbing in time with the bouncing of the car. Inevitably the rain was getting in - and washing the place where Kenji had been.

'Not to worry,' she said. 'I've been meaning to clean it out.' Yoshie fell silent for a time. 'Skipper,' Masako said at last, her eyes still on the road. 'Would you be willing to do it one more time?'

'Do what?' Yoshie said, turning toward her with a shocked look.

'I think some work might be coming in.'

'Work? You mean do that again? Who for?' Her mouth was hanging open.

'Kuniko talked, and word got around. Now it looks like it might turn into a line of work.'

'She talked? Then somebody's blackmailing you?' Yoshie pressed her hands against the dashboard as if she were suddenly terrified by the way the car was being driven.

'No, they want to pay us for the same kind of job. There's no need for you to know the details; you can leave that to me. I just need to know whether you'd be willing to help me if it happens. I could pay you.'

'How much?' There was a quiver in her voice, but a hint of curiosity as well.

'A million,' Masako said. Yoshie sighed and then was quiet.

'For the same kind of work?' she asked after a moment.

'We don't have to get rid of it afterward. All we've got to do is cut it up at my house.' Yoshie gulped. Masako lit a cigarette and the car filled with smoke.

'I'll do it,' said Yoshie, coughing.

'Really?' Masako glanced at her. She looked pale and her lips were trembling.

'I'm desperate for money,' she said. 'And I'm willing to march into hell if I'm following you.'

Was that where they were headed, Masako wondered. She peered through the streaming windshield. Only the tail-lights of the cars ahead of them were visible. She could no longer feel the tyres on the road, and the car seemed to be floating along. It all seemed unreal, as if her talk with Yoshie were only a dream they were having together.