Масахико Симада - Death by Choice

Kita put down the receiver, took a deep breath, and turned his mind to discussing with Shinobu where they should go to hole up.

“You sure made a lot of demands there. You’re a real pro, Kita.”

Kita had never received such praise in his life; in fact he’d been told the exact opposite when he worked as a salesman. Seemed like people really could change if they wanted to. Of course the level of responsibility was different when you were selling a life than when you were just selling health products. His working life had been devoid of responsibility until now, so it was only natural that he’d never improved. He’d been skilled at shutting up and listening to others, with the result that another of his skills was passively conforming to others’ expectations of him. Now he realized this old self had suddenly evolved. It felt pretty good.

“I’d say they know we’re in Niigata by now. That saleswoman in the shop where you bought the dress realized who you were.”

“Am I a millstone for you? Do I stand out?”

“That’s why we’ve got to hide somewhere, see. The police may already be on the move.”

“Well maybe, but this town feels pretty sleepy. It just doesn’t seem like the sort of place where anything would happen.”

“We’re the ones who’d be the event. If a patrol car sees us, we’re done for.”

“Really? It’s making me drowsy.”

The port had a lethargic air. The sound of a distant steam whistle drifted in like a yawn, while the two wandered along indecisively. Shinobu peeped into the deserted kiosk, and began idly looking for chocolate nibbles to buy. Kita bought himself a sports paper and a can of barley tea, put some eye drops in his eyes, and settled down on a bench with the idea of waiting for a good idea to present itself.

“Couldn’t we escape onto some boat?” Shinobu was perched on Kita’s knee, chewing gum.

A hotel would make them too visible. Abductors often holed up in a vacant house or some derelict building, but that was in the movies. They had no time to go searching around for the perfect ruin. They could just keep on the move, but they didn’t have the money for that. Finally, they settled on hiding on a boat. What kind? wondered Kita, and the moment he did so he recalled the face of the Russian he’d tried to sell health products to a few years earlier.

If they could get refuge on a Russian ship in port, he thought, neither the police nor the gangsters would get to them before Friday. The only problem was, would the ship take them? He’d heard the Russian Embassy was surprisingly unhelpful to refugees. Luckily, though, a Russian ship was not an embassy. It would all work out if they negotiated with the ship’s captain, he decided.

He approached two Russians as they got off the bus, huge paper bags clutched in both hands, and addressed them in English. Were they going back to their ship? Da, da , they nodded. Two faces, one like a grotesque kewpie doll and the other with great blubbery lips, ogled Shinobu as they spoke. Kita smiled back. He’d like to speak to the captain, so would they mind introducing him? Captain ? The one with the gleaming lips pointed at the grumpy kewpie. Ah, you’re the captain? Kita asked. Da. Ya. Captain replied the kewpie. It seemed his English wasn’t too good. The thick-lipped one translated for him, rolling his r’s, while Kita dedicated himself to the task of negotiating, mouthing his English syllables with a heavy Japanese accent.

“My name is Minami. I’m a director of a television station. This is Mizuho, a reporter. We are making a travel program about Niigata. We would like to include your ship in our footage. Therefore, could you please show us your ship?”

The two had a few exchanges in Russian together, while Kita waited, wondering if his request had got through. Then the thick-lipped one turned to him and said How much can you pay? Sure enough, it was going to need money. How much do you want? he asked. Fifty thousand , came the outrageous answer. Kita looked resigned, shook his head, and turned as if to go.

OK , said Lips, forty plus a can of caviar. Forget it, muttered Kita. Lips came down another ten thousand. If you put us up on board for tonight, we’ll make it thirty thousand, Kita offered. You want to stay ? Lips winced and looked dubious.

“You see, we want to cover the everyday life of Russian sailors,” Kita laboriously explained. “We want to know how you spend time while you’re in port, what you eat, what you talk about.”

Lips nodded to each thing Kita said, but he looked as if he couldn’t fathom just why they wanted to do this. He asked if the woman would come too. Yes, said Kita, she was eager to spend time on the ship as well. At this, Kewpie grinned broadly. Khorosho, he said, and reached for Kita’s hand to shake on the deal. It seemed negotiations had reached a happy conclusion.

They were taken on board the five hundred ton freighter Pugachov . On the deck they found two second-hand Japanese cars, tied up with wire rather like Gulliver in Lilliput. There was also a pile of second-hand refrigerators, television sets, and the kind of bicycles that could have been abandoned at railway stations. It looked like a street on special trash-collection day.

They were introduced to each crew member in turn. Nicolai, Sasha, Misha, Alyosha, Kosta…it was quite an array of faces. Each was passing the time in his own chosen way. Some were playing chess, some exchanging cups of vodka, others reading, playing the guitar or sleeping. Shinobu smiled sweetly at them all in a rather bewildered fashion.

Then they were shown into the captain’s cabin, where they raised welcoming vodka glasses with Kewpie, and ate the proffered fatty salted pork on black bread.

They were given two empty bunks, one above the other. A young crewman brought them some damp sheets and mouldy-smelling blankets, and informed them that dinner was at six.

“We’ve managed to find a hidey-hole, haven’t we?” murmured Shinobu, gazing out at the sea through the round porthole in their room.

“Mind you, we’re not absolutely safe even here.”

“Let’s hope all goes well.”

“I’ll go off into the town after dinner and take a look at things,” Kita said. “I won’t stand out if I’m alone.”

Yawning irrepressibly, Kita lay down on the narrow bunk. Shinobu snuggled in beside him. She poked a finger into his nose and chin, and murmured sulkily, “You’re going to leave me on this ship all alone? What will you do if I get raped?” She rolled up his shirt and began to stroke his ribs.

“Stop it, that tickles.”

“What’ll you do, Kita? If the ship leaves while you’re away, I really will be kidnapped.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t think Captain Kewpie’s a bad fellow.”

“How do you know? He might be part of a mafia gang for all we know. All the crew look like mafia members, don’t you think?”

“Do the mafia collect junk like that?”

“They’d be carrying guns. Tokarevs or Kalashnikovs, I’d say.”

“You want one? Shall I inquire for you?”

“I don’t want to kill and I don’t want to get killed.”

“What if you had to choose?”

“I’d kill. What about you?”

“I’d die.”

“Not fair!”

“Look, I promise I’ll be back, right? All I’m going to do is just check that the abduction’s been reported in the media, and see if the money’s gone to the Red Cross yet.”

Shinobu pouted, and nodded unwillingly.

Six o’clock came, and the entire crew gathered in the ship’s dining room. Shinobu was somewhat relieved to discover that there were two Russian women among the crew. She and Kita were invited to the captain’s table as the evening’s guests, where they were re-introduced to the other members, and raised vodka glasses together.