Кобо Абэ - The Ark Sakura

I was tempted to take him up on the offer. I had test-fired each one five times with no problems, but I was still uncertain as to how they might hold up in a shoot-out.

“You don’t think much of my arsenal, though, do you?”

“I’m only saying it won’t serve the purpose. It’s certainly interesting. This looks like some special steel, though; about all you can do is reinforce it and make up the difference by adjusting the amount of gunpowder.”

“I can’t do it!” the girl cried. She was sitting on a forty-four-pound keg of active carbon, both feet braced on the crossbow, unable to fit the bowstring into place. “Not enough strength in my back, I guess.”

“I don’t think you can do it bare-handed,” I said. “Afterwards I’ll lend you my leather driving gloves.” I fixed it for her, and grabbing five arrows, she ran up the tunnel stairs.

“Look at her go. You can’t stop her.”

“She’s charming. Makes me feel like getting out my camera for the first time in a long while.”

“Weapons have a way of changing people.”

The insect dealer pulled the trigger on the Uzi, replaced the cocking lever, and held the weapon in his arms. “Captain,” he said, “are you sure you aren’t a misanthrope at heart? You’re too exclusivist.”

Suddenly there was a shout from the work hold. It was the girl.

“Come on out or I’ll shoot!” Perhaps because the high tones were absorbed by the moist, uneven surface of the stone walls, her voice sounded lower than usual; that in turn might have explained the note of urgency in her voice, which seemed to preclude the possibility of a joke. There was a muffled response.

The insect dealer and I raced neck and neck up the stairs. We arrived on the scene just as she was relaxing and lowering the crossbow from her shoulder. The shill was climbing down from the hole in the ceiling. He appeared nimble and surefooted. He turned his head and looked at us with a provocative smile.

12

EVERYBODY’S GOT A FEW

SCARS ON THE SHIN

We all knew this was not a propitious moment for sounding one another out. Round one, a time of mutual sizing up, was over, and now we were about to enter on the decisive round two. The important thing now was to control your breathing, and try to anticipate the others’ moves. Everyone seemed to feel the same way; and so until the beer was opened we observed a careful truce, keeping the sensitive matter of the shill’s expedition firmly off limits.

Supper was instant Chinese noodles topped with chopped green onion, a couple of ham slices, and an egg. To go with the beer, I opened, as promised, a can of sardines. I could have come up with a fancier menu if I’d wanted, but it didn’t seem necessary.

Besides the noodles, we lugged five cans of beer per person up to the bridge. I sat in the chair by the stairs, the insect dealer sat on the parapet, and the shill and the girl sat at either end of the chaise longue; this had the drawback of being so low that their chins barely reached the tabletop, but it had the compensating advantage of greater comfort.

The insect dealer downed his first beer in one gulp. The shill, having taken charge of the crate of beer, promptly tossed him another, over the table, and then picked up the loaded crossbow from the girl’s feet.

“Komono,” he said, “mind setting your empty can over there? I want to try a little target practice. Let’s see, now, where’s the safety catch on this?”

The girl put her chin on the shill’s shoulder and removed the pin at the base of the trigger for him. Even assuming there was something between them, her manner was far too intimate for so public a setting. Was she a born flirt, or just an innocent? Dogs that fawn on everyone appeal only to children.

“Knock it off, you two.” Even as he set up the can on one end of the parapet in compliance with the shill’s request, the insect dealer spoke in a disgusted tone of voice. “Hurry up and eat, or your noodles will get cold.”

The shill pulled the trigger. The can appeared to sway slightly, but he had missed. In the distance we heard the arrow ricochet.

“Some marksman!” The girl laughed and stole a glance at me. “Why, I could hit a pack of cigarettes straight on, bang.”

The shill buried his face in the large bowl of noodles, slurped up a mouthful, and then muttered, mouth full, “Rats! If only I’d had something like this before, I’d never have let that little bastard get away.”

“What was it, a rat?” asked the girl innocently.

“We’ve made our toasts,” said the shill, “so shall we move on to the business at hand?” He wiped his mouth and stared straight at me. End of truce. “Let’s have it, Captain — who the hell was that guy?”

In my stomach, the beer and noodles formed a lump of sticky tar. What had he seen? What was he trying to say?

“What do you mean, who? There isn’t anybody else. How could there be?”

“Don’t try to play games with me.”

“You must have imagined it.”

“Hold on a minute, please,” said the insect dealer, and washed down a mouthful of sardines with a swig of beer. “As the captain’s adviser, naturally I’m on his side — but in any case, I think we’d better get the facts straight.” He turned to the shill and said, “Now, Mr. President, tell me the truth. You had on that miner’s light before you even left here; are you sure you weren’t planning on doing a little exploring all along? If people think you’re bullshitting them about having seen some suspicious character, how can you blame them?”

“Very observant, Komono — I’ve got to hand it to you.” The shill opened a second can of beer and flashed a friendly smile. “All right, it’s true that I thought I’d take a little walk after I finished using the john. But that doesn’t make me crazy enough to go so far for no reason.”

“I’m still suspicious.” The girl raised her head from the bowl, a noodle trailing down from her mouth; she sucked it in with almost invisible speed and went on: “Then why didn’t you call for help? If you trusted the captain, that’s what you should have done.”

“You keep out of it. And I don’t trust the captain.” He thrust out his arm in my direction and snapped his fingers with conviction. The thought crossed my mind that his story might possibly be true.

“What kind of a guy was he, then?” I asked. “When you first laid eyes on him, where was he and what was he doing?”

“Then you admit he exists,” he said arrogantly, kicking the floor. “Who is he? Why are you hiding him?”

“I’m not hiding anyone!”

“You asked me what he was like, didn’t you? That shows you know something.”

“Don’t get so excited.” The insect dealer reached across the table and took his third beer from the girl. Purple spots were starting to show on his forehead and cheeks; he probably had low resistance to alcohol. “What we need now is a lie detector. But think about it; even if you have an obligation to tell the truth, the captain here doesn’t. You two were never invited on board, after all — you’re a couple of crashers.”

“The hell you say.” He sprayed us with saliva. “I thought I made it clear — I can’t sleep without my pillow. He’s the one who’s forcing me to stay against my will.”

“That’s a bit strong. Don’t forget, legally he’s not a certified ship’s captain.” The insect dealer tapped the area above his stomach and emitted a loud belch. “In other words, he can call himself captain all he likes, but without the consent of the crew, it doesn’t mean a thing.”

“In that case, we settle it by force—”

“Or by an election. I don’t approve of violence.”