Janwillem De Wetering - The Japanese Corpse

The flagman waved and de Gier released the clutch, but the flagman corrected his command. Evidently he had mistaken the next flagman's movement for the O.K., but the man had only been scratching his neck. The sports car stopped again. De Gier couldn't see the cat anymore, but there was another corpse on the road now, a sparrow that was resting on its beak. Yuiko saw the bird too, and smiled.

"Pretty little thing, isn't he?" she said. "It's a male, because he has got stripes on his head; the female is plain. The striped sparrows have an interesting song. They don't chirrup but they make a striking sound, a few short notes and then a long one. You must have heard it, there are lots of them in Kyoto." She whistled the bird's song.

"Yes," de Gier said. "And they drop the last note an octave when they repeat themselves. But why would he be resting on his beak? His legs are well apart, he is in perfect balance. But he is dead."

"I don't know," she said. "Perhaps he flew against a car and was thrown back and the posture happened that way. Oooh."

The sports car had driven off at the flagman's order, and they had passed the dead bird. She had seen its other eye, and so had de Gier. The bird's head was smashed on one side, and the eye had come free from its socket and stared at them, for the split second it took in passing it, with a mixed expression of intense fear and surprise. The eye had, in some strange way, become very large and covered the entire side of the sparrow's head.

"A bad omen," Yuiko said nervously. "Perhaps we shouldn't go sailing today. I wouldn't mind turning back. We can go to a theater and have dinner later on in my room."

"No, thanks," de Gier said. "I have been to a theater and they killed me on the stage. That wasn't a good omen either. It's a good day for sailing. Look at the tree-tops; there will be a stiff breeze on the lake."

But there was more than a stiff breeze. The lake's surface was an endless play of whitecaps, up to the horizon. The other shore was invisible.

Yuiko gasped. "A gale," she said. "I should have listened to the weather report. We must go back now. Lake Biwa is very big, you know. It's like an inland sea. It's easy to lose sight of the shore."

De Gier stretched out his arm so that he could stroke her hair. "It isn't that rough, it just looks bad, but once we're on the water you'll see that there's nothing to worry about. Maybe we can charter a proper yacht, but I've been out in worse weather in my little sloop, and I was only fourteen years old at the time, and since then I have sailed all sorts of boats."

"All right," she said. "I have never sailed before, you see. I have only been in a rowboat and in a canoe."

They took a wrong turn and got lost, and it was over an hour before they had found the harbor. An old man came to the gate, shaking his head.

"Too rough," Yuiko translated. "He advises us not to go. There is hardly anybody on the water today."

De Gier pointed at a small fishing boat tacking away from the harbor. Another boat was visible near the horizon, a small low stripe. "That must be a motor launch," de Gier said. "Tell him I'll pay any deposit he likes. I am an experienced sailor; he won't lose his boat."

The man finally agreed and asked for the equivalent of a hundred dollars, and de Gier gave him the money, shoving the thick wad of notes across the table in the owner's small cramped office and refusing a receipt. "Tell him that I consider it to be an honor to visit this great country and that I trust him completely," he said. The man smiled and bowed.

There were several boats available. The man recommended a sturdy jib-headed sloop with a large cabin and a built-in engine, but de Gier preferred a twenty-foot cutter. The man didn't agree. "He says the boat has an almost flat hull and too many sails. Three sails, one big one and two little ones in front. It will capsize easily."

"Fine," de Gier said, jumping aboard. "I'll teach you and you can take care of the jibs."

"He says there is no engine," the girl said, hesitating on the jetty.

"There is wind, isn't there? Who needs an engine? Come aboard, Yuiko-san."

The wind was blowing away from the harbor, and the man shuffled around anxiously while de Gier found the halyards. The man suggested that he should reef the mainsail, but de Gier shrugged. "Tell him it's all right," he said again to the girl. "He'll get his boat back, and if there's any damage he can take it out of the deposit, can't he?"

He got the hamper with their picnic out of the car while he checked the sheets, the anchor and the center-board. He thought that it would be better not to irritate the man and only raised the mainsail and one jib. When Yuiko came back he was waiting on the small foredeck and pushed off, running back to grab the tiller. Yuiko had zipped herself into a yellow life jacket and had brought one for him too, but it looked clumsy and he propped it between his back and the coaming. The wind caught the sails, but he was prepared for the sudden pull on sheet and tiller and braced himself. The cutter shot away, heeling sharply, and Yuiko shrieked, holding on to the coaming with both hands.

"Put your feet against the centerboard," de Gier yelled, and eased the sheet of the mainsail a little, steering into the wind to relieve the pressure on the sails. When she seemed a little more comfortable he pulled the tiller again so that the wind caught the boat on the beam and it regained its speed. The lake's water made a tinkling sound as it splashed past the bow; a white frothy line had formed behind the rudder. They could see the man wave on the jetty and de Gier waved back.

The hamper had slid toward him and he reached down quickly and opened the lid. Yuiko was smiling nervously and he grinned at her.

"Where have you got your gun?" he asked. "It won't be any good to you now, and I'd like to have it for a moment. Is it in the hamper or do you keep it on your body?"

She didn't reply and he rummaged about. The hamper contained six plastic boxes, all neatly closed, and a thermos flask in its own compartment. The pistol was stuck between the boxes, hidden under a folded tea-cloth. He took it out and pressed the spring that held its clip. He could only use his left hand but he managed, taking his time. He transferred the clip to his right hand and released the six cartridges, making them jump over the side. Holding the tiller in his armpit and securing the jib-and-mainsail sheets to a large cleat attached to the centerboard case, he opened the gun's breach, but there was no cartridge in the chamber. He pushed the empty clip back and offered her the gun. She was looking away.

"Take it, Yuiko-san," he said gently. "It's a good pistol and you don't want to lose it. A Browning is worth three hundred dollars these days and this is a special model. I don't want to throw it overboard, I just don't want to get shot today."

She was crying and he put the pistol back into the hamper, flipping the lid down. They were traveling at such speed that the harbor behind them had changed into a few dots on the shoreline, and the masts of the moored yachts into a row of bristling hairs. Soon there would be nothing but water around them and he realized that he might have difficulty in finding his way back. He looked at the sun and checked the time. He had seen a chart in the storage space aft and he pulled it out. The buoys were indicated clearly and he compared their numbers and colors with the buoy he had just passed and the buoy which was coming close.

"Yuiko-san," he said softly, touching her shoulder. She turned around and faced him. Her cheeks were wet but she had stopped crying. "Don't be silly," he said. "You know what I am and I know what you are. We are on different sides of the line. I am a yakusa too, but I have another daimyo. Your boss and mine are at odds, so we are enemies. So what? We are sailing a fast boat on a beautiful lake. Why don't you cheer up? That's a good lunch in the hamper, and the daimyo or the man in the bar will give you new cartridges for your gun. Nobody is going to be angry with you. You have done your duty, you lured me out on Lake Biwa. And I came. I am stupid, but my stupidity is my own concern, not yours."