Janwillem De Wetering - The Japanese Corpse

"We will be witnesses," the commissaris said, "once we have proof."

"We'll have proof soon," Dorin said, raising his voice a little, as if he wanted to reassure his audience. "I spent a year in the police before I joined the Service. Police methods are slow and boring, I thought. There are so many safeguards protecting the suspect that the investigating officer feels like a weevil in a bowl filled with beancurd. This case will be adventurous. I am glad I am in it. It'll be like watching a movie, with the difference that I'll be actually taking part in the story and should be able, to some extent, to change its course.

"Maybe I have the makings of becoming a true samurai, although I don't come from a samurai family. My forefathers were merchants, and merchants don't rank high in our country, not even now, and now they control Japan through their companies, which have sucked and clawed themselves into almost everything. But merchants are still the lowest on the scale. The samurai, the warriors, come first. They are reputed to be straightforward, simple, detached and courageous. After the samurai come the farmers. They are not so detached, because they have their cattle and crops to worry about, but they are close to nature and the beauty of the country. The fishermen have the same status as the farmers. They are connected to the sea, a source of life to us and an eternal inspiration. Then and only then come the merchants, who aren't inspired by anything but their own greed. They are bound by desires; they have small mouths and huge bellies and have to feed continuously. The men who started the last war were merchants, not samurai. The merchants wanted to tap the sources of all Asia, maybe of the world, for their own profit. Merchants want to have things, a samurai prefers to be, not himself but part of whatever he happens to do, and whatever he does he tries to do as well as possible, even if it means losing his being."

The commissaris was nodding energetically and de Gier grinned.

"You agree?" Dorin asked, surprised.

"In theory," the commissaris said, "but what you are saying is not so easy to practice. By the way, did you do something about your agents following us everywhere, or are they somewhere in the train?"

"No," Dorin said. "We are free of them now. I spoke to my chief in the Ministry and he spoke to your ambassador. They were called off. We are on our own, but I was given a telephone number which I want you both to memorize. I don't think we'll ever use it, but one never knows. This phone is supposed to be manned night and day. All you have to do is tell it where you are, and somebody will show up to get you out of your spot. I don't think it'll work myself. I think it's a number connected to a police radio room with a changing staff."

The commissaris opened his mouth but changed his mind, masking the movement by pretending to rub something off his underlip.

"Here you are," Dorin said.

De Gier took the slip of paper and held it so that the commissaris could see it. They began to mumble the number to themselves, and after a while Dorin took the note back and held a match to it. He blew the match out, dropped it into the ashtray and without any warning, still smiling politely, jumped across the compartment, grabbing de Gier by the throat. De Gier raised his hands, got hold of Dorin's left wrist, pressed his thumbs against the palm of Dorin's hand and snapped the hand back, bringing Dorin to his knees. He followed it up by giving the Japanese a sharp knock with the flat of his hand, hitting him in the ribs. As Dorin fell, the commissaris had his pistol out. Dorin picked himself up and sat down again, rubbing his back.

"Very good," he said. The commissaris was putting his gun back. "You hadn't loaded your weapon," Dorin said. "I think you should do that. I don't mind, I am sure you wouldn't touch the trigger before analyzing the situation properly."

"I might," the commissaris said. "I am an old man, my reflexes are slow. But I will load the next time. Have you and de Gier been playing tricks like this for the last few days?"

"Yes sir," de Gier said, "but Dorin is quicker than I am.

"You are catching up," Dorin said. "I have been trained like this for several years. There were nine cadet officers in my squad, and whenever we were together we used to attack each other. I have been grabbed while I sat on the toilet, reading a newspaper. My friend came in with door and all, kicking it from the hinges. I was in a Western-style bathroom, and the toilet was away from the door, so fortunately the door didn't hit me, but I was hampered because I had my trousers down."

"So what did you do?" the commissaris asked.

Dorin smiled self-consciously. "Well, I couldn't think of anything clever, so I threw the newspaper in his face. It was folded so it didn't just flutter around but really hit him, blocking his view for a moment, and then I jumped forward hitting him in the stomach with my head. I got him in a lock grip afterward. The attacker is really always in the worst position. He leaves many openings; a prepared defender is better off. It is de Gier's turn to attack me now."

"You take turns? So you are prepared, aren't you?"

"We break the rule all the time. I may attack him again."

"Don't attack roe," the commissaris said. "You'll maim or kill me, and my wife will be upset. Besides, I want to meet these priests. Are we going straight to the monastery?"

"No, we'll stay in an inn close to Daidharmaji. A priest will come to see you tonight and he will bring one of his temple's paintings. He speaks English fairly well. He used to be a tourist guide and he is a graduate in English, not that that means much. It is very difficult for us Japanese to really master a foreign language, I don't know why. We can pass all the written examinations, know everything about grammar, learn twenty thousand words by heart and we still can't speak the language. For me it is different because I grew up in America. My father was a diplomat and I went to American schools and played with American children. I began to think in English when I was a toddler. But this priest never left our islands."

"Are the yakusa trailing our priest, do you think?"

"They should be," Dorin said. "I made a telephone call just now, there are phones on the train, and spoke to an associate in Kyoto. Last night the yakusa made the priest a final offer and he refused, very politely, of course. He didn't make a definite refusal, but said that he had to think about the matter. He ran up his debt to the bar in three consecutive nights, gambling and playing around with the girls. Maybe he owes them a few thousand dollars by now, an amount he can never pay, for priests get only a little money from their administration, just pocket money really. Some of them have extra income, but this particular priest hasn't. So the yakusa thought they had him in the palm of their hand. There's also the blackmail angle. They could tell a high priest about his behavior and he might be sent away. They could do it nicely, by presenting their bill to Daidharmaji's administration office, for instance, but they wouldn't do that easily. If the priest loses his position because he is sent away, there is nowhere for him to go. Japanese society is very closely knit. Everybody would know about him and would be hesitant about employing him. And without his status as a priest he is of no use to the yakusa, for he won't be able to get at the temple treasures anymore."

"So tonight we may have our first adventure," de Gier said.

"Your second adventure," the commissaris said. "You had one in Tokyo, you remember? You will have to restrain yourself. I don't want a dead man hovering around us, not even a dead yakusa."

"Sir," de Gier said, and closed his eyes. The commissaris fell asleep a little later. Only Dorin was left to feel the last impact of the holy mountain, its white dome touching the stratosphere.