Кобо Абэ - The Ark Sakura

Until I could devise a definite counterplan, there seemed no choice but to keep watch, after all. As I was thinking this, the shill suddenly began to snore. He was fast asleep without any pillow at all, let alone one wrapped in an old undershirt. Now I was the only one awake. That saved the trouble of drawing lots to see who went first. I was angry, but I didn’t feel like forcing either of them to wake up. Collecting the crossbow and the Uzi, I headed for the galley to do what I always did when I couldn’t sleep: sit on the toilet and munch on chocolates, washing them down with beer. I might have a good look now at my eupcaccia too.

But the focus of my interest turned from there up the stone steps to the top of the bridge. Unreal images began to proliferate. The girl lay asleep now, her whole body pressed tightly against the chaise longue, which was permeated with the smells of my body. Her body nestled in the very curves hollowed out by mine. Perhaps in her dream she was even now smelling my smells. The chaise longue was embracing her bare flesh in my stead. She must be receiving some sort of signal in her dream; if she had normal reception capability, at any moment now she would arise. And then in fact she did get up and cross over the bridge toward me. She peered down from the end of the parapet, leaned her chin on her hand, and waggled the fingers.

“Captain, something’s making a funny noise in the lockers.”

“Ssh.”

From the waist up she was wrapped in terry cloth the color of a dried leaf; from the waist down she might very well be nude. A T-shirt had been her only upper garment, so it was entirely possible. Pointing to the two men fast asleep in their sleeping bags, I made an exaggerated show of discomfiture, acting as if she and I were accomplices. She waved back. Could she be thinking what I was thinking?

“I think it’s locker number three. Can you hear?”

“It’s probably someone trying to reach me on the wireless.”

At any rate, I was lucky to be able to respond to this new development by myself. Holding the crossbow in my left hand, the Uzi in my right, I climbed the stairs with slow steps. Sniffing, I wondered what it would feel like to slap her bottom on the bare skin, without any skirt in between.

16

THIS IS MOLE. OVER.

— Mole here. Over.

— Sengoku here. This is an emergency. Can you talk now? Have you got time? Over.

— What do you mean, have I got time? I’ve been looking all over for you. Over.

— I’ve got to see you and talk to you in person. It’s very important. Over.

— Relax, will you? Stop exaggerating. Over.

— It’s about the Broom Brigade. But I can’t risk having anyone listen in. Over.

— I’ve already checked to see if anyone’s on this channel. Over.

— There’s a body. They want me to get rid of it. I can’t have anyone listening in. Over.

— A body, did you say? Whose? Anyone I know? Do they know who the murderer is? Over.

— Meet me somewhere and I’ll tell you all about it. Over.

The girl whispered in my ear: “Don’t let yourself become an accessory to crime. It could be a trap.”

I was perched on the armrest of the chaise longue. She was seated with knees raised, shoulder against the same armrest. If I so much as turned my head and looked down, our eyes would meet at close range. The voice kept calling.

— Hello, hello, manhole manager, please come in. Is there someone there with you? Over.

The girl smiled and stuck out her tongue.

— You know perfectly well there isn’t. Over.

— Anyway, it’s not such a bad idea, is it? Considering the nature of the item, I think we could probably charge a fairly exorbitant amount. Of course the Broom Brigade wants to open direct negotiations, but I knew you wouldn’t like that. I explained that you’re something of a recluse, and they finally accepted that. But if you don’t cooperate, they’re going to send their representative charging over there. Over.

— Who’s that? Not my dear old dad, I hope.

— Just meet me. Although he isn’t as bad as you make him out to be. Over.

— You keep your opinions to yourself. Now the son of a bitch has taken up murder, is that it? Over.

— Nobody said that. Over.

— I can’t trust you if you’re going to stand up for him, Sengoku. Over.

— All I’m doing is carrying on hardheaded diplomacy, as secretary-general of SWAMDI. I’m completely neutral. Stop being such a goddamn mole, will you? Over.

— You’d better have a barbecue or something before that body starts going bad on you. Over.

— That’s not as safe as you might think. You’d better talk it over with Inototsu. He’s got lots of ideas. Look, now’s the time to forget the past and be reunited, father and son. It’s been five years. Listen to the advice of a friend. Over.

— I’m disappointed in you, Sengoku. I was going to give you a key to this place. You probably don’t know what that means — then again, maybe you do. A key so you could come and go freely. But now I’ll have to think again. That rat who was running around getting into everything was probably you, anyway. Over.

“Don’t.” This time it was the girl’s turn to slap me on the bottom. “You mustn’t show your hand.”

— There seems to be some misunderstanding. Having both you and Inototsu look on me with suspicion puts me in a very difficult position. Over.

— I have nothing to discuss with you. Over and out. QRT.

— Wait. He’s not the type to let anything drop. I’m afraid of him myself. Besides, if this new deal works out, I think he’ll reconsider about the shipments of hexavalent chromium too. Over.

— No comment. QRT.

— Just the other day he grabbed a pushy junior high school student and crushed his fingers in a pair of pliers. The guy figured Inototsu was just bluffing, so he paid no attention — and damned if Inototsu didn’t go ahead and do it. Crush, crunch. You should have heard the poor guy scream. Over.

— QRT. QRT.

— Mole, you’re stubborn. If you change your mind, get in touch with me again right away. I’ll be waiting. QRT.

As I returned the apparatus to the locker, the girl asked curiously, “What does that mean, ‘QRT’?”

“It’s an expression used by ham radio operators. It means ‘communication ended.’ ”

“Really? How funny.”

“I feel terrible. Bad aftertaste.”

“That was amazing,” she said. “Crushing someone’s fingers in pliers! There really are people like that.”

“Sengoku’s no angel, either.”

“You were too open with him. I’ll bet Komono would have handled him more shrewdly.”

“I bought his sweet-potato cakes every day for over six months; I’m his best customer. Not only that, I paid him a straight twenty percent commission on the hexavalent chromium business. ”

“What are you going to do? If you don’t do something, he said they’ll come charging in here.”

“They’re trying to scare me with that talk about a dead body. Who could it be? Do they mean to drag me into it so they can implicate me in the murder?”

“There’s no point in wasting time worrying. The best thing to do is tell the others about it and see what they say.”

“It won’t work.”

“Decide that after you’ve talked it over with them.”

“I just wasn’t cut out to be the leader of a group like this.”

“Now now, there’s only four of us.”

“Do you know the three basic conditions necessary for survival in a nuclear shelter? First is waste disposal, second is ventilation and temperature control, and third is management.”

“Wait,” she said. “Before you wake them up, let me go to the toilet. The noise of flushing it will probably wake them all up, anyway.”