ou won’t die that easily,” the man’s voice said from behind him. Like he had been reading Ushikawa’s mind. “You just lost consciousness for a moment. Though you were right on the edge of it.”

It was a voice he had never heard before. Neutral, utterly devoid of expression. Not too high or low, neither too hard nor too soft. The kind of voice that announces airplane departures or stock market reports.

What day of the week is it? Ushikawa thought randomly. Must be Monday night. No, technically it might already be Tuesday.

“Ushikawa,” the man said. “You don’t mind if I call you Ushikawa, do you?”

Ushikawa didn’t reply. There was silence for a good twenty seconds. Then, without warning, the man gave him a short, clipped punch to his left kidney. Silent, but a punch with force behind it. Excruciating pain shot through his whole body. All his internal organs clenched, and until the pain had subsided a little he couldn’t breathe. Finally he was able to get out a dry wheeze.

“I asked you politely, and I expect a reply. If you still can’t talk, then just nod or shake your head. That’s enough. That’s what it means to be polite,” the man said. “It’s okay to call you Ushikawa?”

Ushikawa nodded several times.

“Ushikawa. An easy name to remember. I went through the wallet in your trousers. Your driver’s license and business cards were in there. Full-time Director, New Japan Foundation for the Advancement of Scholarship and the Arts. A pretty fancy title, wouldn’t you say? What would a Full-time Director of the New Japan Foundation for the Advancement of Scholarship and the Arts be doing shooting photos with a hidden camera in a place like this?”

Ushikawa was silent. He still couldn’t get the words out easily.

“You had best reply,” the man said. “Consider this a warning. If your kidney bursts, it’ll hurt like hell the rest of your life.”

“I’m doing surveillance on the residents,” Ushikawa finally managed to say. His voice was unsteady, cracking in spots. To him, blindfolded, it didn’t sound like his own.

“You mean Tengo Kawana.”

Ushikawa nodded.

“The Tengo Kawana who ghostwrote Air Chrysalis.”

Ushikawa nodded again and then had a fit of coughing. The man knew all this already.

“Who hired you to do this?” the man asked.

“Sakigake.”

“That much I could figure out, Ushikawa,” the man said. “The question is why, at this late date, Sakigake would want to keep watch over Tengo Kawana’s movements. Tengo Kawana can’t be that important to them.”

Ushikawa’s mind raced, trying to figure out who this man was and how much he knew. He didn’t know who the man was, but it was clear Sakigake hadn’t sent him. Whether that was good news or bad, Ushikawa didn’t know.

“There is a question pending,” the man said. He pressed a finger against Ushikawa’s left kidney. Very hard.

“There’s a woman he’s connected with,” Ushikawa groaned.

“Does this woman have a name?”

“Aomame.”

“Why are they pursuing Aomame?” the man asked.

“She brought harm to Leader, the head of Sakigake.”

“Brought harm,” the man said, as if verifying the phrase. “You mean she killed him, right? To put it more simply.”

“That’s right,” Ushikawa said. He knew he couldn’t hide anything from this man. Sooner or later he would have to talk.

“It’s a secret within the religion.”

“How many people in Sakigake know this secret?”

“A handful.”

“Including you.”

Ushikawa nodded.

“So you must occupy a very high position.”

“No,” Ushikawa said, and shook his head, his bruised kidney aching. “I’m simply a messenger. I just happened to find out about it.”

“In the wrong place at the wrong time. Is that what you’re saying?”

“I think so.”

“By the way, Ushikawa, are you working alone?”

Ushikawa nodded.

“I find that strange. Normally a team would conduct surveillance. To do a decent job of it, you would also need someone to run supplies, so three people at the minimum. And you’re already deeply connected with an organization. Doing it all alone strikes me as unnatural. In other words, I’m not exactly pleased with your reply.”

“I am not a follower of the religion,” Ushikawa said. His breathing had calmed down and he was finally able to speak close to normally. “I was hired by them. They call on me when they think it’s more convenient to hire an outsider.”

“As a Full-time Director of the New Japan Foundation for the Advancement of Scholarship and the Arts?”

“That’s just a front. There’s no such organization. It was mainly set up by Sakigake for tax purposes. I’m an individual contractor, with no ties to the religion. I just work for them.”

“A mercenary of sorts.”

“No, not a mercenary. I’m collecting information at their request. If anything rough needs to get done, it’s handled by other people.”

“So, Ushikawa, you were instructed by Sakigake to do surveillance here on Tengo, and probe into his connection with Aomame.”

“Correct.”

“No,” the man said. “That’s the wrong answer. If Sakigake knew for a fact that there’s a connection between Aomame and Tengo Kawana, they wouldn’t have sent you by yourself on the stakeout. They would have put together a team of their own people. That would reduce the chance for mistakes, and they could resort to force if need be.”

“I’m telling you the truth. I’m just doing what the people above me told me to do. Why they’re having me do it alone, I have no idea.” The pitch of Ushikawa’s voice was still unsteady, and it cracked in places.

If he finds out that Sakigake doesn’t yet know the connection between Aomame and Tengo, Ushikawa thought, I might be whacked right here and now. If I’m no longer in the picture, then nobody will be any the wiser about their connection.

“I’m not very fond of incorrect answers,” the man said in a chilly tone. “I think you of all people are well aware of that. I wouldn’t mind giving your kidney another punch, but if I hit you hard my hand will hurt, and permanently damaging your kidney isn’t what I came here to do. I have no personal animosity toward you. I have just one goal, to get the right answer. So I’m going to try a different approach. I’m sending you to the bottom of the sea.”

The bottom of the sea? Ushikawa thought. What is this guy talking about?

The man pulled something out of his pocket. There was a rustling sound like plastic rubbing together, and then something covered Ushikawa’s head. A plastic bag, the thick freezer bag kind. Then a thick, large rubber band was wrapped around his neck. This guy is trying to suffocate me, Ushikawa realized. He tried breathing in but got a mouthful of plastic instead. His nostrils were blocked as well. His lungs were screaming for air, but there wasn’t any. The plastic molded tight to his whole face like a death mask. Soon all his muscles started to convulse violently. He tried to reach out to rip away the bag, but his hands wouldn’t move. They were tied tight behind his back. His brain blew up like a balloon and felt ready to explode. He tried to scream. He had to get air. But no sound came out. His tongue filled his mouth as his consciousness drained away.

Finally the rubber band was taken from his neck, the plastic bag peeled away from his head. Ushikawa desperately gulped down the air in front of him. For a few minutes he bent forward, breathing mightily, like an animal lunging at something just out of reach.

“How was the bottom of the sea?” the man asked after Ushikawa’s breathing had settled down. His voice was, as before, expressionless. “You went quite deep down. I imagine you saw all sorts of things you’ve never seen before. A valuable experience.”

Ushikawa couldn’t respond. His voice wouldn’t come.

“Ushikawa, as I have said a number of times, I am looking for the correct answer. So I’ll ask you once again: Were you instructed by Sakigake to track Tengo Kawana’s movements and search for his connection with Aomame? This is a critical point. A person’s life is on the line. Think carefully before you answer. I’ll know if you’re lying.”

“Sakigake doesn’t know about this,” Ushikawa managed to stammer.

“Good, that’s the correct answer. Sakigake doesn’t know yet about the connection between Aomame and Tengo Kawana. You haven’t told them yet. Is that correct?”

Ushikawa nodded.

“If you had answered correctly from the start, you wouldn’t have had to visit the bottom of the sea. Pretty awful, wasn’t it?”

Ushikawa nodded.

“I know. I went through the same thing once,” the man said, as easily as if he were chatting about some trivial gossip. “Only people who have experienced it know how horrible it really is. You can’t easily generalize about pain. Each kind of pain has its own characteristics. To rephrase Tolstoy’s famous line, all happiness is alike, but each pain is painful in its own way. I wouldn’t go so far, though, as to say you savor it. Don’t you agree?”

Ushikawa nodded. He was still panting a little.

The man went on. “So let’s be frank with each other, and totally honest. Does that sound like a good idea, Ushikawa?”

Ushikawa nodded.

“Any more incorrect answers and I’ll have you take another walk on the bottom of the sea. A longer, more leisurely stroll this time. We’ll push the envelope a bit more. If we botch it, you might not come back. I don’t think you want to go there. What do you say, Ushikawa?”

Ushikawa shook his head.

“It seems like we have one thing in common,” the man said. “We’re both lone wolves. Or maybe dogs who got separated from the pack? Rogue operators who don’t fit in with society. People who have an instinctive dislike of organizations, or aren’t accepted by any organization. We take care of business alone—decide things on our own, take action on our own, take responsibility on our own. We take orders from above, but have no colleagues or subordinates. All we depend on is our brain and our abilities. Do I have it right?”

Ushikawa nodded.

The man continued. “That’s our strength, but also at times our weak point. For example, in this case I think you were a little too eager to be successful. You wanted to sort it out by yourself, without informing Sakigake. You wanted to wrap things up neatly and take all the credit. That’s why you let your guard down, isn’t it?”

Ushikawa nodded once more.

“Why did you have to take things that far?”

“Because it was my fault Leader died.”

“How so?”

“I’m the one who ran the background check on Aomame. I did a thorough check on her before letting her see Leader. And I couldn’t find anything suspicious at all.”

“But she got close to Leader hoping to kill him, and actually did deliver a fatal blow. You messed up your assignment, and you knew that someday you would have to answer for it. You’re just a disposable outsider, after all. And you know too much for your own good. To survive this, you knew you had to deliver Aomame’s head to them. Am I correct?”

Ushikawa nodded.

“Sorry about that,” the man said.

Sorry about that? Ushikawa’s misshapen head pondered this. Then it came to him.

“Are you the one who planned Leader’s murder?” he asked.

The man didn’t respond. But Ushikawa took his silence as not necessarily a denial.

“What are you going to do with me?” Ushikawa asked.

“What indeed. Truth be told, I haven’t decided yet. I’m going to take my time and think about it. It all depends on how you play this,” Tamaru said. “I still have a few questions I want to ask you.”

Ushikawa nodded.

“I would like you to tell me the phone number of your contact at Sakigake. You must report to someone there.”

Ushikawa hesitated a moment, but then told him the number. With his life hanging in the balance, he wasn’t about to hide it. Tamaru wrote it down.

“His name?”

“I don’t know his name,” Ushikawa lied. Tamaru didn’t seem to mind.

“Pretty tough characters?”

“I’d say so.”

“But not real pros.”

“They’re skilled, and they follow orders from the top, no questions asked. But they’re not pros.”

“How much do they know about Aomame?” Tamaru asked. “Do they know where she’s hiding?”

Ushikawa shook his head. “They don’t know yet, which is why I stayed here doing surveillance on Tengo Kawana. If I knew where Aomame is, I would have moved operations over there a long time ago.”

“Makes sense,” Tamaru said. “Speaking of which, how did you figure out the connection between Aomame and Tengo Kawana?”

“Legwork.”

“How so?”

“I reviewed her background, from A to Z. I went back to her childhood, when she was attending the public elementary school in Ichikawa. Tengo Kawana is also from Ichikawa, so I wondered if there could have been a connection. I went to the elementary school to look into it, and sure enough, they were in the same class for two years.”

Tamaru made a low, catlike growl deep in his throat. “I see. A very tenacious investigation, Ushikawa, I must say. It must have taken a lot of time and energy. Impressive.”

Ushikawa said nothing. There wasn’t a question pending.

“To repeat my question,” Tamaru said, “at the present time you are the only one who knows about the connection between Aomame and Tengo Kawana?”

“You know about it.”

“Not counting me. Those you associate with.”

Ushikawa nodded. “I am the only one involved who knows, yes.”

“You’re telling the truth?”

“I am.”

“By the way, did you know that Aomame is pregnant?”

“Pregnant?” Ushikawa said. His voice revealed his surprise. “Whose child is it?”

Tamaru didn’t answer his question. “You really didn’t know?”

“No, I didn’t. Believe me.”

Tamaru silently considered his response for a moment, and then spoke.

“All right. It does appear that you didn’t know this. I’ll believe you. On another topic: you were sniffing around the Willow House in Azabu for a while. Correct?”

Ushikawa nodded.

“Why?”

“The lady who owns it went to a local sports club and Aomame was her personal trainer. It seems they had a close personal relationship. That lady also set up a safe house for battered women on the grounds of her estate. The security there was extremely tight. In my opinion, a little too tight. So I assumed Aomame might be hiding in that safe house.”

“And then what happened?”

“I decided that wasn’t the case. The lady has plenty of money and power. If she wanted to hide Aomame, she wouldn’t do it so close at hand. She would put her somewhere far away. So I gave up checking out the Azabu mansion and turned my attention to Tengo Kawana.”

Tamaru gave a low growl again. “You have excellent intuition. You’re very logical, not to mention patient. Kind of a waste to have you be an errand boy. Have you always been in this line of work?”

“I used to be a lawyer,” Ushikawa said.

“I see. You must have been very good. But I imagine you got carried away, botched up things, and took a fall. These are hard times now, and you’re working for next to nothing as an errand boy for this new religious group. Do I have this right?”

Ushikawa nodded. “Yes, that about sums it up.”

“Nothing you can do about it,” Tamaru said. “For mavericks like us it’s not easy to live a normal, everyday life. It might look like we’re doing okay for a while, but then we definitely trip up. That’s the way the world operates.” Tamaru cracked his knuckles, a sharp, ominous sound. “So does Sakigake know about the Willow House?”

“I haven’t told anyone,” Ushikawa replied truthfully. “When I said that something about the mansion smells fishy, that was my own conjecture, nothing more. The security was too tight for me to confirm anything.”

“Good,” Tamaru said.

“You were the one who made sure of that, weren’t you?”

Tamaru didn’t answer.

“Up till now you’ve answered truthfully,” Tamaru said. “In general, at least. Once you sink to the bottom of the sea, you lose the power to lie. If you tried to lie now, it would show in your voice. That’s what fear will do to you.”

“I’m not lying,” Ushikawa said.

“Glad to hear it,” Tamaru said. “No one wants to feel any more pain than they have to. By the way, have you heard of Carl Jung?”

Under the blindfold Ushikawa instinctively frowned. Carl Jung? What was this guy getting at?

“Carl Jung the psychologist?”

“Exactly.”

“I know a little about him,” Ushikawa said carefully. “He was born at the end of the nineteenth century in Switzerland. He was a disciple of Freud’s, but broke with him. He coined the term ‘collective unconscious.’ That’s about all I know.”

“That’s plenty,” Tamaru said.

Ushikawa waited for him to continue.

“Carl Jung,” Tamaru said, “had an elegant house in a quiet lakeside residential area of Zurich, and lived an affluent life with his family. But he needed a place where he could be alone in order to meditate on weighty issues. He found a small parcel of land on one corner of the lake in an area called Bollingen and built a small house there. Not exactly a villa or anything that grand. He piled the stones one by one himself and constructed a round house with high ceilings. The stones had been taken from a nearby quarry. In those days in Switzerland you had to have a stonemason’s license in order to build anything out of stone, so Jung went to the trouble of obtaining a license. He even joined the stonemasons’ guild. Building this house, and doing it with his own hands, was very important to him. His mother’s death also seemed to be one of the major factors that led to him constructing this home.”

Tamaru paused for a moment.

“This house was dubbed the ‘Tower.’ He designed it so it resembled the village huts he had seen on a trip to Africa. The inside was one big open space where everything went on. A very simple residence. He felt this was all one needed to live. The house had no electricity, gas, or running water. He got water from the nearby mountains. What he found out later, though, was that this was just an archetype and nothing else. As time went on, he found it necessary to build partitions and divisions in the house, and a second floor, and later he added on several wings. He created paintings himself on the wall. These were suggestive of the development and split in individual consciousness. The whole house functioned as a sort of three-dimensional mandala. It took him twelve years to complete the entire house. For Jungian researchers, it’s an extremely intriguing building. Have you heard of this before?”

Ushikawa shook his head.

“The house is still standing on the banks of the lake in Zurich. Jung’s descendants manage it, but unfortunately it’s not open to the public, so people can’t view the interior. Rumor has it, though, that at the entrance to the original tower there is a stone into which Jung carved some words with his own hand. ‘Cold or Not, God Is Present.’ That’s what he carved into the stone himself.”

Tamaru paused again.

“‘Cold or Not, God Is Present,’” he intoned, quietly, once more.

“Do you know what this means?”

Ushikawa shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

“I can imagine. I’m not sure myself what it means. There’s some kind of deep allusion there, something difficult to interpret. But consider this: in this house that Carl Jung built, piling up the stones with his own hands, at the very entrance, he found the need to chisel out, again with his own hands, these words. I don’t know why, but I’ve been drawn to these words for a long time. I find them hard to understand, but the difficulty in understanding makes it all the more profound. I don’t know much about God. I was raised in a Catholic orphanage and had some awful experiences there so I don’t have a good impression of God. And it was always cold there, even in the summer. It was either really cold or outrageously cold. One or the other. If there is a God, I can’t say he treated me very well. Despite all this, those words of Jung’s quietly sank deep into the folds of my soul. Sometimes I close my eyes and repeat them over and over, and they make me strangely calm. ‘Cold or Not, God Is Present.’ Sorry, but could you say that out loud?”

“‘Cold or Not, God Is Present,’” Ushikawa repeated in a weak voice, not really sure what he was saying.

“I can’t hear you very well.”

“‘Cold or Not, God Is Present.’” This time Ushikawa said it as distinctly as he could.

Tamaru shut his eyes, enjoying the overtones of the words. Eventually, as if he had made up his mind about something, he took a deep breath and let it out. He opened his eyes and looked at his hands. He had on disposable latex gloves so he wouldn’t leave behind any fingerprints.

“I’m sorry about this,” Tamaru said in a low voice. His tone was solemn. He took out the plastic bag again, put it over Ushikawa’s head, and wrapped the thick rubber band around his neck. His movements were swift and decisive. Ushikawa was about to protest, but the words didn’t form, and they never reached anyone’s ears. Why is he doing this? Ushikawa thought from inside the plastic bag. I told him everything I know. So why does he have to kill me?

In his head, about to burst, he thought of his little house in Chuorinkan, and about his two young daughters. And the dog they owned. The dog was small and low to the ground and Ushikawa never could bring himself to like it. The dog never liked him, either. The dog wasn’t very bright, and barked incessantly. It chewed the rugs and peed on the new flooring in the hallway. It was a totally different creature from the clever mutt he had had as a child. Still, Ushikawa’s final conscious thoughts in this life were of the silly little dog scampering around the lawn in their backyard.

Tamaru watched as Ushikawa, his body tightly bound into a ball, writhed on the tatami like some huge fish out of water. Ushikawa’s arms and legs were tied behind him, so no matter how much he struggled, the neighbors next door wouldn’t hear a thing. Tamaru knew very well what a hideous way to die this was. But it was the most efficient, cleanest way to kill someone. No screams, no blood. Tamaru followed the second hand on his Tag Heuer diver’s watch. After three minutes Ushikawa stopped thrashing around. His body trembled slightly, as if resonating to something, and then the trembling stopped. Tamaru looked at his wristwatch for another three minutes. He felt Ushikawa’s wrist for a pulse and confirmed that all signs of life had vanished. There was a faint whiff of urine. Ushikawa had lost control of his bladder again, this time emptying it completely. Understandable, considering how much he had suffered.

Tamaru removed the rubber band and peeled away the plastic bag. The bag had been partly sucked into his mouth. Ushikawa’s eyes were wide, his mouth open and twisted to one side in death. His dirty, irregular teeth were bared, his tongue with its greenish moss visible. It was the kind of expression Munch might have painted. Ushikawa’s normally misshapen head looked even more lopsided. He must have suffered terribly.

“I’m sorry about this,” Tamaru said. “I didn’t do it because I wanted to.”

Tamaru used his fingers to relax the muscles of Ushikawa’s face, straighten out the jaw, and make his face more presentable. He used a kitchen towel to wipe away the drool from Ushikawa’s mouth. It took a while, but his face began to look a bit better. At least a person looking at it wouldn’t avert their eyes. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get Ushikawa’s eyes to shut.

“Shakespeare said it best,” Tamaru said quietly as he gazed at that lumpish, misshapen head. “Something along these lines: if we die today, we do not have to die tomorrow, so let us look to the best in each other.”

Was this from Henry IV, or maybe Richard III? Tamaru couldn’t recall. To him, though, that wasn’t important, and he doubted Ushikawa wanted to know the precise reference. Tamaru untied his arms and legs. He had used a soft, towel-like rope, and he had a special way of tying it so as to not leave marks. He took the rope, the plastic bag, and the heavy-duty rubber band and stowed them in a plastic bag he had brought with him for that purpose. He rummaged through Ushikawa’s belongings and collected every photo he had taken. He put the camera and tripod in the bag as well. It would only lead to trouble if it got out that Ushikawa had been conducting surveillance. People would ask who he was watching, and the chances were pretty good that Tengo Kawana’s name would surface. He took Ushikawa’s notebook, too, crammed full of detailed notes. He made sure to collect anything of importance. All that was left behind were the sleeping bag, eating utensils, extra clothes, and Ushikawa’s pitiful corpse. Finally, Tamaru took out one of Ushikawa’s business cards, the ones that said he was Full-time Director, New Japan Foundation for the Advancement of Scholarship and the Arts, and pocketed it.

“I’m really sorry,” Tamaru said again as he was leaving.

Tamaru went into a phone booth near the station, inserted a telephone card into the slot, and dialed the number Ushikawa had given him. It was a local Tokyo number, Shibuya Ward by the look of it. The phone rang six times before someone answered.

Tamaru skipped the preliminaries and told him the address and room number of the apartment in Koenji.

“Did you write it down?”

“Could you repeat it?”

Tamaru did so. The man wrote it down and read it back.

“Ushikawa is there,” Tamaru said. “You are familiar with Ushikawa?”

“Ushikawa?”

Tamaru ignored what he said and continued. “Ushikawa is there, and unfortunately he isn’t breathing anymore. It doesn’t look like a natural death. There are several business cards with Full-time Director, New Japan Foundation for the Advancement of Scholarship and the Arts on them in his business card holder. If the police find these, eventually they will figure out the connection with you. That wouldn’t be to your advantage, I imagine. Best to dispose of everything as soon as you can. That’s what you’re good at.”

“Who are you?” the man asked.

“Let’s just say I’m a kind informant,” Tamaru said. “I’m not so fond of the police myself. Same as you.”

“Not a natural death?”

“Well, he didn’t die of old age, or very peacefully.”

The man was quiet for a moment. “What was this Ushikawa doing there?”

“I don’t know. You would have to ask him the details, and as I explained, he’s not in a position to respond.”

The man on the other end of the line paused. “You must be connected with the young woman who came to the Hotel Okura?”

“That’s not the sort of question to which you can expect an answer.”

“I’m one of the people who met her. Tell her that and she’ll understand. I have a message for her.”

“I’m listening.”

“We’re not planning to harm her,” the man said.

“My understanding is that you are trying your best to track her down.”

“That’s right. We’ve been trying to locate her for some time.”

“Yet you’re telling me you don’t plan to harm her,” Tamaru said. “Why is that?”

There was a short silence before the response came.

“At a certain point the situation changed. Leader’s death was deeply mourned by everyone. But that’s over, finished. Leader was ill, and, in a sense, he was hoping to put an end to his suffering. So we don’t plan to pursue Aomame any further regarding this matter. Instead, we would simply like to talk with her.”

“About what?”

“Areas of common interest.”

“That’s just what your people want. You may feel the need to speak with her, but maybe that isn’t what she wants.”

“There should be room for discussion. There are things that we can provide you. Freedom, for instance, and safety. Knowledge and information. Can’t we find a neutral place to discuss this? Name the location. We will go wherever you say. I guarantee her safety, one hundred percent—and not just hers, but the safety of everyone involved. There’s no need to run away anymore. I think this is a reasonable request, for both sides.”

“That’s what you say,” Tamaru said. “But there is no reason I should trust you.”

“At any rate, I would appreciate it if you would let Aomame know,” the man said patiently. “Time is of the essence, and we’re still willing to meet you halfway. If you need more proof of our reliability, we’ll provide it. You can call here anytime and get in touch with us.”

“I wonder if you could give me a few more details. Why is she so important to you? What happened to bring about this transformation?”

The man took a short breath before he replied. “We have to keep hearing the voice. For us it’s like a never-ending well. And we can’t ever lose it. That’s all I can tell you at this time.”

“And you need Aomame in order to keep that well.”

“It’s hard to explain. It’s connected, but that’s all I can say.”

“What about Eriko Fukada? You don’t need her anymore?”

“No, not anymore. We don’t care where she is, or what she’s doing. Her mission is finished.”

“What mission?”

“That’s sensitive information,” the man said after a pause. “I’m sorry, but I can’t reveal anything more at this time.”

“I suggest you consider your position very carefully,” Tamaru said. “In this game we’re playing, it’s my serve. We can get in touch with you anytime we want, but you can’t get in touch with us. You don’t even know who we are. Correct?”

“You’re right. You do have the advantage. We don’t know who you are. But this isn’t something we should speak about on the phone. I’ve already said too much, more than I’m authorized to.”

Tamaru was silent for some time. “All right. We’ll consider your proposal. We need to talk it over on our end. I will probably be getting in touch with you later.”

“I will be waiting to hear from you,” the man said. “As I said before, this could be to the advantage of both sides.”

“What if we ignore your proposal, or reject it?”

“Then we would have to do things our way. We have a certain amount of power, and unfortunately, things might get a little rough. This could cause problems for everyone involved. No matter who you are, you won’t come through this unscathed. I don’t see how that could be the ideal outcome for either of us.”

“You may be right. But it will take a while before we get to that point. And as you said, time is of the essence.”

The man gave a small cough. “It might take time. Or maybe not so much.”

“You won’t know unless you try.”

“Exactly,” the man said. “There’s one more important thing I need to point out. To borrow your metaphor, in this game it’s your serve. But it doesn’t seem to me like you’re familiar with the basic rules of the game.”

“That’s another thing you can’t know unless you actually try it.”

“If you do try it and it doesn’t work, that would be a shame.”

“For both of us,” Tamaru said.

A short, suggestive silence followed.

“What do you plan to do about Ushikawa?” Tamaru asked.

“We’ll take charge of him at the earliest opportunity. As early as tonight.”

“The apartment is unlocked.”

“Much appreciated,” the man said.

“By the way, will you all deeply mourn Ushikawa’s death?”

“We deeply mourn any person’s death.”

“You should mourn over him. He was, in his own way, a capable man.”

“But not capable enough. Is that what you’re saying?”

“No man is capable enough to live forever.”

“So you say,” the man said.

“Yes, I do think that. Don’t you?”

“I’ll wait for your call,” the man said, without answering, his voice cold.

Tamaru silently hung up the phone. There was no need for any more talk. If he wanted to talk further, he would call them. He left the phone booth and walked to where he had parked his car—an old, drab, dark blue Toyota Corolla van, totally inconspicuous. He drove for fifteen minutes, pulled up next to an empty park, checked that there was no one watching, and tossed the plastic bag with the rope and the rubber band into a trash can. Plus the surgical gloves.

“They deeply mourn any person’s death,” Tamaru said in a low voice as he started the engine and snapped on his seatbelt. Good—that’s what’s most important, he thought. Everyone’s death should be mourned. Even if just for a short time.