he late-afternoon autumn sun cast a soft light on the bundles of money sitting on the table. They were so new and perfect, they looked unreal, like some jokey sort of paperweight. Nevertheless, there was more money there than she earned in a year at the factory, and after all her time at the credit union, she'd been making no more than twice this amount. Masako sat staring at the two million yen she'd received from Yayoi, mulling over the events of the past few months and the prospect of the 'business' to come.

Eventually, her thoughts turned to a hiding place for the money. Should she put it in the bank? But then she couldn't get to it in a hurry if something happened - and there would be a record of it. On the other hand, if she hid it somewhere in the house, there was always the chance somebody would find it there. While she was still weighing these options, the buzzer on the intercom sounded. She stuffed the money into a drawer under the sink before answering.

'I'm sorry to bother you,' said a woman's hesitant voice. 'Can I help you with something?' Masako asked.

'I'm thinking of buying the lot across the street, and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.' Having little choice, Masako went out to the hall and opened the door. A middle-aged woman in a dowdy lavender suit was standing outside looking embarrassed. Judging from her face, she was about the same age as Masako; but her figure had begun to spread, and her voice was high and slightly frantic sounding, as if she'd never learned to keep it under control. 'I'm sorry to barge in like this,' she said.

'That's all right.'

'I'm thinking of buying the lot across the street,' she repeated, pointing to a patch of bare earth directly opposite. There had been talk of a sale several times, but recently it had begun to look neglected.

'And how can I help you?' Masako said in her most businesslike voice.

'Well, I was wondering why that was the only lot that didn't sell, whether there was some problem with it.'

'I'm afraid I wouldn't know.'

'So you haven't heard of any kind of trouble connected with it? I'd hate to find out there was something wrong after we bought it.'

'I understand your concern,' Masako said, 'but I really have no idea. You might try asking the realtor.'

'I have, but he won't tell me anything.'

'Then perhaps there's nothing to tell.' Masako was beginning to get slightly annoyed.

'But now my husband says that the soil is too red.' Masako cocked her head to one side and stared at her visitor. This was the first she'd heard about red soil. 'It makes a bad foundation,' the woman added, sensing her impatience.

'It's the same foundation we have on our house.'

'Oh, I'm sorry,' she said, looking guilty. Masako turned away, to put an end to the conversation.

'I think it should be fine,' she told her.

'Then there's no problem with drainage or anything?'

'We're on a slight rise here, so the run-off is okay.'

'Yes, I suppose so,' the woman said, peering in toward the back of the house. 'Well, thank you very much.' She bowed and turned to go.

It had been a brief conversation, but it left Masako with an uncomfortable feeling. Especially when she remembered what a neighbour had told her when she'd stopped her on the street a few days earlier.

'Katori-san.' The older woman who lived in the house right behind hers taught flower-arranging there. She was straightforward and sensible and Masako got along with her better than with most of the other women in the neighbourhood. 'Do you have a minute?' she said, tugging at Masako's sleeve and lowering her voice. 'I wanted to tell you about something odd that happened the other day.'

'What was that?'

'Someone from your company came around asking a lot of questions.'

'My company?' Masako immediately assumed it must be Yoshiki's office, or perhaps a bank. Still, there was no reason for anyone to be investigating Yoshiki; and Nobuki wasn't old enough yet for that kind of thing.

'I'm sure he said he was from the factory,' she said, frowning doubtfully, 'but I thought it might be a detective agency or something like that. He asked all sorts of questions.'

'Such as?'

'Who lives with you, your daily routine, your reputation in the neighbourhood, that kind of thing. Of course, I didn't tell him anything, but he might have heard plenty from other sources,' she said, nodding toward the house next door where an old couple lived. When Nobuki was in middle school, they'd frequently complained that his stereo was too loud. They would probably have been only too glad to go into the details of Masako's life.

'Did he really go around asking everyone?' Masako said, suddenly uneasy.

'So it seems. I saw him snooping around your place and then ringing their doorbell. It's a bit worrying, isn't it?'

'Did he say why he was investigating us?'

'Now, that was the strange part. He said you were being considered as a full-time, regular employee.'

'Nonsense,' Masako muttered. Part-timers could only be promoted to semi-regular status, not to official full-time employment, and even for that kind of promotion you had to have three years of service. The man was obviously lying.

'What did he look like?' she asked.

'He was young, wore a nice suit.' Jumonji came immediately to mind, but they'd known each other for years and he had no reason to be checking into her background. It might be the police, but they wouldn't need to work undercover like that.

It was at that moment that Masako first sensed a presence, someone who was lurking just beyond the edge of her awareness. Not the police, though she was sure they were watching too, but some unknown party. It occurred to her that this woman, Morisaki, who had turned up so suddenly at Yayoi's place, might be connected in some way. The fact that Yayoi didn't seem at all suspicious was odd in itself - perhaps a sign of how good they were at keeping whatever they were planning secret. The police were too clumsy for it.

First Morisaki, then the young man, and now this dowdy woman asking about real estate. If they were all connected, then her opponent was working with a team of sorts. But who was it? And what did they have to gain from all this? She felt a sudden surge of fear, a fear of the unknown. She wondered for a moment whether she should let Yoshie and Yayoi know what she'd discovered, but having no firm proof, she decided against it.

When she got to work that night, Masako realised that the guardhouse in the parking lot had been completed. The tiny structure stood empty, its little window still dark. Getting out of her car, she stood staring at it as Kuniko's Golf came careening into the lot, raising a shower of gravel in its wake. Masako flinched, sensing the hostility in this manoeuvre.

It took Kuniko several tries to angle the car into the space, though even then it was crooked. Pulling sharply on the parking brake, she looked out the window at Masako.

'Good morning,' she said, with her usual mock politeness. She was wearing a new red leather jacket, no doubt acquired with her recent windfall.

Masako returned the greeting. Since they'd stopped waiting for each other out here, she'd seldom run into Kuniko on the way to work; and judging from the disappointed look on her face right now, she suspected Kuniko preferred it that way.

'You're early today,' said Kuniko.

'I guess I am.' Masako peered at her watch in the dim light; she was, in fact, almost ten minutes ahead of schedule.

'Do you know what that's about?' Kuniko said, nodding toward the guardhouse as she pulled up the top on her car.

'I suppose they're planning to have a guard out here.'

'I hear the police found out about that pervert and forced management to keep an eye on things.' It seemed more likely to Masako that they'd agreed to the guard only because people had been parking illegally in their lot.

'What a shame,' she said. 'Now you won't get a chance to meet him.'

'What do you mean by that?' said Kuniko, twisting her face into a look of open hostility. Her make-up was perfect, as if she were going shopping downtown, but to Masako the showy paint merely seemed to emphasise the flaws in her features.

'I see you're still driving that car,' she sneered, nodding toward the newly polished Golf. 'You should get yourself a bike, save your money.'

But Kuniko turned on her heel and walked off in a huff. Ignoring her, Masako stood rubbing her arms to warm them. It was a bit cooler tonight than usual, even for the beginning of October, and she found she could distinguish various smells in the cold, dry air: fried food from the factory, exhaust fumes, the grass growing around the lot, and the fragrant white olive trees. The last surviving insects were singing somewhere nearby.

She found a sweatshirt on the back seat of the car and pulled it on. Lighting another cigarette - she was almost never without one now - she waited for Kuniko's retreating red figure to disappear. A few minutes later, she heard the rumble of an engine and a large motorcycle pulled into the parking lot. The rear tyre skidded on the dirt and the headlight bounced up and down as the bike came toward her across the rough lot. Who was it? None of the part-timers came to work on a motorbike. Masako stared suspiciously as it pulled up next to her.

'Katori-san,' a voice called, and the rider lifted the visor of his helmet. It was Jumonji.

'What are you doing here? You nearly scared me to death.'

'I'm glad I caught you,' he said, cutting the engine. The parking lot suddenly fell silent, and even the bugs had stopped singing, startled perhaps by the noise. Jumonji set the bike's kickstand in one swift motion.

'What's up?' she said.

'We've got a job,' he told her. Her pulse had quickened at the surprise arrival of the bike, but now she found herself clasping her arms across her chest to control the pounding. She caught a whiff of the familiar smell of detergent from the sweatshirt that had been packed away since last spring; and it crossed her mind for a second that she was now leaving behind the sort of life that smell represented. She hugged herself tighter.

'That kind of job?' she said.

'What else? I had a call just now saying there was a body that needs to disappear. I was worried I wouldn't be able to get in touch with you, so I decided to come straight here... but I was afraid Jonouchi-san might recognise my car.' His voice had a quaver of excitement in it.

'So you used the bike,' Masako said.

'I haven't ridden it recently, and it took a while to get the engine started.' He pulled off the helmet, like an actor removing a wig, and smoothed his hair back with his usual gesture.

'What do you want me to do?' Masako asked.

'I'll go pick it up and bring it to your house. What time do you finish work?'

'Five thirty,' she said, tapping her foot.

'And what time do you get home?'

'A little after 6.00. But you'll have to wait until everyone's out of the house, around 9.00. Do you think you can get the clothes off before you bring it over?'

'I'll give it a try,' he said grimly.

'And can you shift it by yourself?'

'We'll see I bought some scalpels, so I'll bring them along.'

'Good,' said Masako, chewing her fingernails as she frantically tried to think of anything they might have forgotten. In the heat of the moment, nothing came to mind; and then she remembered something. 'And make sure you get the boxes.'

'Do you want big ones?'

'No, not really. We don't want them to attract attention, so get the kind they have at grocery stores. But make sure they're good and sturdy.'

'I should be able to pick up some tomorrow morning. Have you got plastic bags?'

'I bought some just in case,' she said. 'There's one other thing: what should I do if something goes wrong?' A number of possible hitches had suddenly come to mind: Yoshiki might decide to stay home from work, for example, or Nobuki might skip his shift.

'What could go wrong?' he asked, sounding alarmed.

'Well, what if the house isn't empty, for instance?'

'Then give me a call on my cell phone.' He pulled a business card out of the pocket of his jeans and handed it over. The phone number was printed on the card.

'All right,' she said. 'If something comes up, I'll call you by 8.30.'

'Otherwise, I'll see you around 9.00,' he said, holding out his hand. Masako stared at it for a moment and then reached out to shake it. It felt cold and rough in the chilly wind. 'See you, then,' he said, starting the engine. The low, powerful noise spread out across the empty lot, fading into the darkness beyond. At the last minute, Masako signalled him. 'Something else?' he said, raising the visor again.

'Somebody's been snooping around my place. Maybe from a detective agency.'

'What do you think it means?' he asked, clearly worried.

'I've no idea.'

'It's not the police, is it? We don't want to mess with that.' Masako's heart sank. Maybe they should lie low for a while. But it was too late for that.

'I don't know,' she said, 'but I say we go ahead.'

'I guess so,' he agreed. 'We've come too far to back out now. A lot of important people would lose face.' He made a neat turn and sped away, kicking up clumps of dirt behind him.

Left alone, Masako set off toward the factory, reviewing the procedure as she walked: first came the head; then the arms and legs; then, you opened the torso.... She could picture the whole gruesome, unnerving process. It suddenly occurred to her to wonder what shape the body would be in when it came to them, and this unnerved her all the more. Her knees began to shake, as if baulking at the idea of carrying her any nearer this horror, and it was difficult to walk. She stopped and stood in the dark, realising that what really spooked her wasn't the body she would soon be seeing but the unseen people who were out there somewhere, watching.

***

As she entered the lounge, Kuniko made a show of standing up and walking out without so much as glancing at her. Masako, however, had no time for that kind of behaviour, intent as she was on finding Yoshie. She found her soon afterward, in the changing room with Yayoi.

'Skipper,' she said, tapping her on the shoulder just as she was pulling up the zipper of her uniform. Yayoi, who was standing beside her, turned around as well, a look of cheerful innocence on her face. Masako had been meaning to leave her out of their plans this time, but when she saw that face - without a trace of the horror they had been through visible there - she felt a violent urge to make her tremble the way she had, just now out there in the night. She clenched her teeth, trying to resist it.

'What's up?' Yoshie said, but a look of consternation showed that she knew the answer almost before she asked the question.

'We've got a job,' Masako told her. Yoshie stared back, her lips tightening into a fine line. Masako decided she wouldn't mention her qualms about being watched; she was afraid Yoshie would lose her nerve, and she'd never be able to do the job alone.

'What are you two whispering about?' Yayoi said, pushing in between them.

Masako grabbed her by the wrist and said: 'Do you really want to know?' staring her right in the eye as she spoke.

'What is it? What are you doing?' she muttered in dismay. Masako wrapped her fingers around her elbow now instead.

'We're cutting - just about here. Another "job".' Yayoi backed away, her arm still in Masako's grasp. Yoshie glanced around, worried that someone might be looking, and signalled to Masako to be careful. But the other women in the room were paying them no attention as they glumly went on changing their clothes in anticipation of the hard night ahead.

'You're not serious,' Yayoi whispered, her voice breathless and high like a little girl's.

'Dead serious,' she was told. 'Do you want to join us? All you have to do is show up at my house.' When Masako let go, Yayoi's arm dropped limply to her side and her work cap fell to the floor. 'And another thing: make sure you get rid of that Morisaki woman if you do decide to come.'

Yayoi glared at her for a moment before hurrying away.