Fuminori Nakamura - The Thief

Behind him I could hear a woman’s faint laughter. The background noise gradually grew louder and then the line went dead. The woman was still watching me as her plump pet sniffed urgently at a telephone pole. When I stared back, she spoke to the dog and dragged him away. The area was dark. Perhaps she hadn’t been looking at me at all, but at something just behind me.

In his photo Yonezawa was wearing a scruffy black coat, but his condo was big enough to have a reception desk and getting inside wouldn’t be easy. I didn’t know what he did for a living, but if he walked around with a gun in his pocket he was probably no saint. Looking at the deep-set eyes in his picture I felt that murder or something similar was lurking behind them.

I hired a car and parked in a place where I could keep an eye on the entrance to his building, but not too close. Though there was a risk the cops might ask what I was doing there, a car is definitely best for surveillance. I expected to see a taxi pull up outside his apartment, but when he came out he left on foot. He walked with a bounce, as though he was dragging his feet slightly. He looked idly around, glared at some children coming towards him.

I got out of the car and tailed him, keeping a safe distance. He was clearly a man who didn’t like spending money. If he was living in a place like this, I figured he must really feel he was in danger. In the station he took a long time buying his ticket. After casting his eye over the people around him, he fixed his gaze on a woman in a skimpy outfit, staring at her intently. I shifted further away. It didn’t look like I’d be able to get close to him until we got on the train.

When he reached the platform, Yonezawa scratched his neck several times and checked out a woman in a coat standing near him. His hair was oddly slicked down and his cheeks were dotted with freckles that hadn’t shown up in the photo. His shoes were filthy. When the train arrived it was hardly crowded at all. I opened my newspaper, still keeping a good distance from him. Yonezawa didn’t sit, but stood in a corner with a vacant look on his face.

His wallet was jammed tightly in his right front pocket, but he wasn’t carrying a bag and I couldn’t tell where the envelope was. Probably in his inside coat pocket, I thought, but the chances of taking it now looked slim. Gradually, however, the train started to fill up, and I mentally prepared myself. I got up, threaded my way through the passengers and stood in front of the door.

At Ikebukuro a whole lot of people got off, but even more got on, so that it was hard to move inside the carriage. An announcement over the loudspeaker told us that we were approaching Shinjuku. Then the doors opened and the crowd started to move. I focused on edging closer to Yonezawa in the crush. When my body was right up against his I unbuttoned his coat and slipped my hand inside. His breath felt unpleasant against my cheek. My fingertips felt something shaped like an envelope and I thought I could take it, but when I extended my fingers I realized that the inner pocket was closed up. Not with a button or a zip, but actually sewn shut. With a dull pain in my heart I quickly withdrew my hand. Merging with the river of people boarding, I shoved close to him again and fastened his coat once more. The crowd continued to heave violently.

Yonezawa exited onto the platform, and just before the doors closed I got off, too. My pulse was racing. It was impossible to switch the envelope sewn into his pocket with the one I had. If I cut the stitches to steal it, there was no way he wouldn’t notice for two days. I followed him slowly, but I didn’t have a clue what I should do next. Maybe I could somehow replace his whole jacket with a different one, but I’d never be able to buy a coat that matched his shabby old thing. Even if I could find something similar, it would be hard to reproduce exactly the same worn patches. It was inconceivable that someone as highly-strung as he was wouldn’t notice the difference.

Yonezawa took the east exit towards Kabukicho. His body swung as he walked, his eyes scanning the crowd. He tripped and lost his balance, then scowled at a passing woman for a few seconds before going into a gray building. I thought about going to see Kizaki, but I didn’t know where to find him. Remembering the condo in Ebisu, I decided to visit room 702. I caught a cab and all the way there my head was filled with images of Ishikawa and Saeko’s faces.

When I arrived I took the elevator up and pressed the doorbell of the apartment. After a silence, a man’s voice came over the intercom. I told him my name and the door opened. The guy who came out looked at me sullenly and then went back inside. I didn’t think it was the same one I’d talked to on the phone yesterday. The room resembled Ishikawa’s old office, just a desk and sofa on a gray carpet.

“What do you want?” he asked gruffly.

I stood directly in front of him.

“Yonezawa’s got the envelope sewn inside his jacket. It’ll be impossible to steal it without him knowing.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“I want to talk to Kizaki.”

“Tough.”

He stared at me like I was a real pain in the ass, sat at the desk and turned on the TV. A woman in a bikini ran across the screen as if she were chasing something.

“If I fail, it’ll make things harder for you guys too, won’t it? Let me talk to Kizaki. If you don’t, you could be in deep shit.” I paused. “Well, if you won’t help me, I’ll go.”

Still gazing at the screen, the man muttered something and picked up the phone without looking at me. He spoke into it quietly, then took his ear away from the receiver, turned the TV off and sighed. Racing papers and candies were scattered around the desk. He passed me the phone. After a short wait a man I didn’t know answered. I told him I wanted to talk to Kizaki and he said I couldn’t, but then there was another pause and Kizaki came on. He told me I had five minutes. There was no doubt it was him, but his voice was so low he sounded like a different person.

“Yonezawa’s envelope is sewn inside his coat. There’s no way I can switch it. Can’t I just steal it?”

There was a brief silence and then he laughed.

“Bad luck. What a shame.”

“What is?”

“If you can’t do it, you die. That’s what I promised, isn’t it? Though I guess I’ll let the woman and her brat go.”

“But if I don’t succeed, won’t that cause trouble for you?”

He laughed again.

“I didn’t think you’d be so attached to your life.”

He was holding the receiver so close to his mouth that I could almost feel his breath in my ear. His voice crackled.

“And no, it wouldn’t bother me too much. Anyway, apparently he’ll be going to Shinjuku again three days from now. Try again then. If you can’t do it, we’ll just have to kill him and snatch the envelope. It would be worth more if we could get it without killing him, but them’s the breaks. It’s no big deal.”

“But….”

“You knew if you failed you’d die. That was our agreement. I never change my mind. Fate shows no mercy. Yours is a cruel life. I’ve been checking up on you.”

I caught my breath.

“Don’t think so much. In the course of history billions of people have died. You’ll just be one more among them. It’s all a game. Don’t take life too seriously.”

I tried to speak but nothing came out.

“I told you, didn’t I? I’ve got your destiny inside my head. It’s addictive. Anyway, you’ve got four days. It’s unfortunate but it can’t be helped. People like you nearly always end up like this. Right, listen. It makes no difference to me whether you succeed or fail and die. I never change my mind, so if you fail I will kill you. It’s as simple as that. I’ve got dozens of people like you working for me. You’re just one among many. You’re just a tiny fraction of all the feelings that pass through me. Things that are trivial to the people at the top of the pyramid are matters of life and death to those beneath them. That’s the way the world works. And above all—”