Fuminori Nakamura - The Thief

“Now I’m folding it.”

“Listen! It’s no use to you. There are channels you have to go through. You won’t even be able to do anything with it. I’ll pay you. Three hundred thousand yen.”

“It’s falling to bits.”

“Okay, five hundred thousand. That’s all I have. I bet that’s more than they’re giving you.”

I crushed the corners of the envelope and compared the dummy with the original. Now the fake was even grubbier than the real one. If you looked closely the seal in the center was at a slightly different angle, but it was in almost exactly the same place.

“All right, I guess I’ll have to take your offer. I could use the money just now.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“If you’re going to talk like that I really will throw it away.”

It was probably already safe to hand it over, but if I made it too easy he might get suspicious about the envelope. I left the toilets and walked past several people. Returning to the station, I climbed the steps to the east entrance.

“Go and get the money from the bank. Then put it in one of the coin lockers in front of the ticket gate for the Yamanouchi line at the east entrance. There’s a vending machine next to the kiosk. Put the key where you take out the cans, on the right side. I don’t know why, but there are lots of plain-clothes cops around today. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Cops?”

“It doesn’t matter. Don’t even think about watching to see who comes to open the locker. Go straight back to the square and stand somewhere I can see you. I’m watching you. When I know that you’re back outside, I’ll put the envelope in the same locker and the key back in the same place. Easy.”

“How do I know I can trust you? We should make the exchange face to face.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

I hung up. When I went out the east exit I could see Yonezawa in the distance, still clutching his cell phone. He walked off and I followed him with my eyes, keeping a wide gap between us. He went into a bank.

I changed direction and lit a cigarette in the smoking area outside Alta, thinking that it had been a long time since my last one. When I looked up a news flash was being shown on the big screen. A politician had been shot while he was making a speech on the west side of Shinjuku Station. The people on the street were panicking, and the announcer was speaking as gravely as if he’d been shot himself.

Yonezawa came back from the bank and crossed the street at the crosswalk, heading toward the east entrance of the station, but when he saw all the people standing there he turned around and looked up at the screen, not moving. I averted my gaze and kept on smoking. I waited until he started walking again and followed him, keeping well back.

He opened the coin locker and put something inside, then bought a drink from the vending machine. Seeing that he was scanning his surroundings, I went outside again. It was some time before he appeared at the exit again. He stood in the middle of the square and looked around. I looped back to the station and phoned him. After telling him to come to collect the envelope in ten minutes, I hung up. A tall man who looked like a cop passed right beside me with a cell phone in his hand. He disappeared into the crush, shouting.

When I took the key from the vending machine and opened the locker, a bank envelope was inside. I checked it and there was no doubt it held money. I replaced it with the dummy, bought a coffee from the machine and put the key inside as I took out the can.

Suddenly my strength deserted me and I wanted to sit down right where I was, but I had to keep watch until he collected the envelope. Unless he took it without realizing that the papers had been stolen — in other words, unless he thought the fake was the real thing — this whole exchange was pointless. I kept an eye out, staying well back and hiding in the crowd, until I saw Yonezawa. He opened the locker and inspected the envelope. My heart beat faster, but he put it in his pocket without a second glance. I phoned him.

“Did you get it?”

He didn’t answer straight away.

“Are you there?”

“It’s filthy. A total mess.”

I figured that so far he hadn’t worked it out.

“It’s your own fault. I always do what I say I’m going to. I could have kept it and done a runner, but that sounds like asking for trouble. In fact I’m doing you a favor. You should be grateful.”

“One day I’ll find you and kill you.”

“Try it.”

I ended the call and my body went limp. I was dying for a smoke but I realized that several people had turned to look at something behind me. Yonezawa had seized a young man’s hand in front of the lockers. The youth, who was holding a cell phone, was untidy and toting a large bag, as though he was traveling by himself.

I could have made my escape, but I thought of Yonezawa roaming around with a gun. I rang him right away, moving nearer. At that instant, however, he seemed to look straight at me, even though we were still a long way apart. I turned away but I could sense him drawing closer. My pulse began to race. I thought about cutting the call, but if the noise stopped just as I was fiddling with my phone it would be a dead giveaway that I was the one on the other end.

I slipped the phone into my pocket, still ringing, and faded back into the crowd. Every time I looked around his eyes met mine. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him clawing his way through the throng like a madman. Just as I climbed the stairs, acting casual and thinking that it would be worse if I ran, he reached my side and grabbed my arm. When I felt his fingers, I gasped. My throat went dry.

“It’s you?”

“Huh?”

He was breathing heavily.

“Where’s the money?”

I assumed a puzzled expression, but my heart was beating faster than ever.

“The envelope was there, but that was mine in the first place. Give me the money, quickly! And don’t make a fuss.”

He pressed against me and jabbed something into my gut. I knew without looking that it was a gun. The face that had made such an unpleasant impression on me when I first saw it in the photo was right there in front of me. I had a brief image of Kizaki, and it felt like Ishikawa and Saeko were watching me from nearby.

“Stop it, please.”

“I’ve seen you somewhere. I’m sure of it. I know it’s you. It must be.”

A few heads started to turn in our direction but no one was paying us any particular attention. Yonezawa’s phone kept on ringing like some kind of rite. His eyes bulged and he was sweating profusely. I tried to remain calm, but in those circumstances it would have been unnatural not to be shocked.

“I’m sorry if I’ve done something.”

“Have I got it wrong? Fuck. I’ll kill that guy. Where is he? No, it’s got to be you. If it’s not you I’m fucked.”

He was spraying flecks of saliva as he spoke. He started searching the pockets of my coat. I wondered if I should admit it was me and return the money, but considering his deranged state and the possibility that he might find the real envelope, it seemed too dangerous. In spite of the risk of being shot, I thought about trying to escape. At that instant, however, someone caught him by the arm.

“You can’t get away from Mr. Yada,” said the stranger. “But you made it a fair way. You’re Yonezawa. Found you at last.”

Yonezawa suddenly punched him, spun around and sprinted off through the curious crowd. I had no idea what was going on and I thought that fleeing was my only option as well, but the guy had already taken hold of my arm. Why wasn’t he going after Yonezawa? Why had he captured me? I couldn’t move. Just as I was thinking that I was done for, he squeezed my arm even tighter and showed his yellow teeth.