“I thought it was wiped.”
“It was. Everything up through April fourteenth is toast, but we’re interested in messages sent by
“Goddamit. Did she answer them?”
“Yep. All but the last one. It was sent at seven thirty-seven this morning.”
“Can you read them to me?”
Ghost read him the messages, alternating between
“No reply yet?” Kenji asked.
“Not yet.”
“Do you think you could keep an eye on it?”
“I’ll call if anything pops up.”
He should warn Yumi that
Kenji leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. He was tired. Tomorrow would be another long day. Time to go home and have dinner with his father, soak away his frustrations in their fragrant, cedar ofuro tub.
Detective Oki emerged from the elevator and tossed his briefcase onto his desk. He took one look at Kenji and said, “Looks like your day was about as much fun as mine.”
Oki opened his bottom desk drawer to pull out a bottle of The Macallan. Grabbing Kenji’s teacup, he poured in a tot of whiskey. He slid Kenji’s cup across the desk, then poured some into his own.
“Kampai,” he said. “To a speedy conclusion of this three-ring circus.”
Kenji raised his glass and drank. “Wha!” he coughed, his eyes opening wide.
Oki laughed. “Think of it as medicine. It’s the only thing that’ll cure the first-day-of-a-task-force blues.”
Gingerly, Kenji tried another sip; this time it went down easier. In fact, a glow began to spread down his chest, and the frustrations of the past eight hours receded a bit.
“How was your day with Inspector Mori?” Oki asked.
“Not the kind they write about in the recruiting brochures. You?”
“The same.” He drank another slug.
As they sipped their whiskey, Kenji told him what he’d discovered about
“Huh,” said the big detective when he’d finished. “You think it’ll be tonight?”
“No idea.”
“Well, call me if you need me.” Oki grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. “Now it’s time to teach some kids to kick ass at judo class. You going home?”
Kenji looked at his phone. 6:00. “Might as well. Ghost can reach me there as well as here.” He stood and stretched.
“I’ll be at the Sports Center until about eight thirty,” said Oki.
“Thanks.”
Kenji washed the cups in the staff room, then headed for the elevator.
His father wasn’t home when he arrived, so he decided to soak in the ofuro while he waited for Ghost’s call. The bathroom was tiled floor to ceiling like a shower stall, with a drain in the middle of the floor. Kenji seated himself on a small wooden stool, scrubbed and rinsed using a wooden bucket, then climbed into the deep tub made of cedar slabs, water cascading over the rim as he submerged. At first his skin prickled as he sank into the nearly scalding, chin-deep water, then he relaxed and glowed all over as the hot water worked its magic and the fragrance of the cedar soothed away the jagged edges. After the heat had penetrated to his bones, he stood to open the glass door leading to the secluded garden outside, the evening air cooling his steaming body. Leaving the door open, he climbed back in and sat facing the garden, admiring his father’s bonsai collection as a cool breeze played with the curls of vapor rising from the bath. The first stars appeared in the darkening sky.
His phone rang. Hastily wiping off his wet hand on his washcloth, he stretched over to the short wooden stool to pick it up.
“Nakamura desu.”
“It’s Ghost,” said the now-familiar voice. “New message from
“What time is it now?”
“Six thirty.”
“Thanks, Ghost. I owe you big-time.”
“Nah,” the hacker laughed. “This is like beating a real life Level 36. Let me know how it all turns out, okay?”
Kenji promised he would and hung up. The Komagome Shrine was a five-minute walk from his house and it wasn’t even 7:00 yet; if he asked Oki to meet him there around 8:45, they’d have time to find a good place to wait for Yumi and Shimada. Kenji stood, the water sheeting off him, and reached for his towel. He could catch a bite to eat first at the soba shop on the way to the shrine. He had plenty of time.
Chapter 60
Tuesday, April 16
7:30 P.M.
Yumi
Yumi’s phone vibrated during the afternoon session of the software meeting she was interpreting, but she didn’t have a chance to check her messages until she was on her way home at 6:30.
E-mail from Emiko.
Date: Tues, 16 Apr, 6:24 PM
Frm:
Sub: Re: Darkboy
She had to meet Ichiro near Otemachi, so she couldn’t be at the Komagome shrine at 9:00. But maybe Emiko would agree to switch the location to somewhere near a Chiyoda Line station and meet her earlier. Yumi stepped off the train and quickly composed a reply, then headed home for a quick dinner before changing to go out.
As she hastily shoveled in a bowl of rice, her phone chimed a reply.
Date: Tues, 16 Apr, 7:29 PM
Frm:
Sub: (Non title)
Nezu Shrine, 8:00? I’ll meet you under the main gate.
Yumi checked the time. 7:30. She left her dishes in the sink and raced to her room. After wriggling into her dress, she rooted through her drawers for a sweater, pulling out a fluffy white cardigan. A quick mirror check, then out the door, hopping as she pulled on a pair of high-heeled sandals.
It was a ten-minute walk to Komagome Station, then a fifteen-minute train ride to Nezu.
Jumping off the train, she trotted as fast as she could in her heels, careful not to trip as gathering rainclouds played hide-and-seek with the moon. Finally she saw the silent torii portal to the shrine ahead. The eyes of the guardian deities flanking the main gate gleamed white as the clouds parted. Larger than life, the wooden warrior statues watched Yumi from their niches as she crossed the low bridge. The ancient structure was three meters thick, the gateway more like a wide hallway leading to the shrine beyond. Passing into its shadow, she stopped and looked around. No Emiko yet.
A breeze riffled Yumi’s hair and stirred the leaves of the shrine’s tall trees. She could hear the gurgling of the stream that passed through the grounds, and the rustle of small animals hunting each other in the night. It was cool, and with rain imminent, even the dog walkers had stayed home.
Shifting uneasily from one foot to the other, she pulled her sweater tighter and peered into the darkness. Shinto shrines had no graveyards, but Yumi still found them a little spooky at night. The kami-sama—eight million of them, living in trees and springs and stones throughout the land—were not reliably fri
endly like the Buddha. Unless you bought their favor with an offering, they were more like forces of nature, destroying as well as saving, unconcerned that they might accidentally step on mere mortals as they went about their business.
Gravel crunched as someone approached. A figure slipped around the corner of the gateway like a black cat, a breeze catching his tailcoat. In the moment before he passed into the shadows, Yumi recognized him: the tall, thin Goth who’d left the pink bow at Rika’s Circle memorial.
What was he doing here? Where was Emiko?
He stopped before her. Moonlight painted his gaunt face with dark hollows, but his eyes were arrestingly beautiful. “Yumi-san.” He studied her face. “You look different without your Lolita makeup.”
Her breath caught in her throat as the puzzle pieces realigned. Tall. Thin. Wearing a tailcoat.
“You’re . . .
He gave her a courtly, ironic bow.
“Where’s Emiko?”
“Emiko?” His mouth twisted into a smile. “Emiko’s dead.”
“What?” Yumi shrank back.
“She died over a year ago. I couldn’t go back to the Whitelight website as
Yumi slowly edged away. “What do you mean, ‘helped’?”
“The same way I helped your friend. I granted her final wish.”
“Rika didn’t commit suicide.”
“You’re wrong.”
“The police said she was suffocated.”
He nodded.
“That doesn’t sound like suicide to me.”
“But it was.” He closed the gap between them, his kohl-rimmed eyes holding hers like a snake charmer. “She wanted to die. Didn’t you read what she wrote? She just needed help.”
The hair prickled on the back of Yumi’s neck. Slowly she slipped her hand into her purse, feeling for her phone. “What do you mean?”
“What are you talking about? You weren’t her best friend. I was her best friend.”
“Because she didn’t want to die.” She felt for the keys to dial 110. “And in case you hadn’t noticed, samurai went out with the Meiji Restoration.”
“People suffered then, they suffer now. There will always be a place in the world for someone like me, someone who helps end the pain.”
Yumi’s phone beeped as her fingers fumbled onto the wrong key.
Like a snake striking,
“Who were you calling, Yumi-san?” His face darkened as he saw the numbers on the display. “The police? The police don’t understand. They don’t want to understand.” He looked at her, an edge of anger creeping into his voice. “I thought you wanted to know what really happened that night. Why were you calling the police before I explained?” Gripping her wrist tighter, he pulled her closer. “We have so much to talk about.”
He flipped her phone shut and threw it as hard as he could. It landed somewhere out in the darkness.
Yumi felt the first stab of fear. Kenji would not be coming to help her.
“Rika never intended to die that night,” Yumi blurted. “She was just writing a story. For FlashMob. She wanted to be a writer, not a suicide.” Yumi struggled to free herself.
“She wouldn’t do that,”
He was offering her what she’d come for, but Yumi was afraid he wasn’t going to let her leave with it. She kneed him in the groin, tore her arm from his grasp, and ran. He doubled over, howling.
Blindly, she headed deeper into the shrine precincts. There was a back entrance, closer than the way she came in. Past the brooding Noh stage, onto the stone pavers. The moon went behind the clouds. Hurtling through the gateway to the main courtyard, she tripped over the threshold. The fall sent her sprawling. Damn high heels! She kicked them off and scrambled to her feet, ignoring her stinging hands, her skinned knee.
The shrine. She could hide there. She ran up the steps to the main building, pushing past the tarp-covered scaffolding that was shrouding it during renovation. She rattled the heavy wooden doors. Barred from the inside.
But she wasn’t fast enough.
Chapter 61
Tuesday, April 16
8:30 P.M.
Kenji
From his table at the restaurant near the Komagome shrine, Kenji watched people scurry by outside, intent on getting home between rain showers. Slurping up his last bite of buckwheat noodles, he replaced the lid on the nearly empty pot of dipping sauce. It was 8:30. Still fifteen minutes to kill before meeting Oki so they could intercept Shimada. He held up his teacup, signaling to the waitress for a refill.
Kenji swallowed a crispy-fried prawn in two satisfying bites and downed a swig of tea. His phone vibrated. Blocked ID. Must be Ghost.
“Moshi-moshi,” Kenji said, stepping outside so he didn’t disturb the other customers.
“I just checked the e-mail traffic on that website again,” the hacker’s words tumbled out. “
“What?”
“She sent mail at seven twenty-six tonight, agreeing to meet
Eight o’clock? Half an hour ago! And the Nezu Shrine was fifteen minutes away, even by taxi. Kenji began to run toward the main street, then remembered he hadn’t paid. He dashed back to the restaurant, left too much money on the cashier’s desk, then sprinted toward the corner where he could flag down a cab in the right direction. Breathing hard, he paused for a red light, traffic streaming by. The rain was starting to come down, so he ducked under the awning of a tea store to pull out his phone and call Oki. He didn’t pick up, must still be teaching his judo class. Kenji texted, Yumi changed the meeting to 8:00 at the Nezu Shrine.
A minute later, his phone rang. Oki. Kenji explained what was going on.
“I’m on my way. I’ll meet you there,” Oki replied. “What does Shimada look like? And what do you want me to do if I get there first?”
Kenji described
er what. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
Green light.
Chapter 62
Tuesday, April 16
8:45 P.M.
Yumi
A gust of wind blew rain onto her bare arm. Yumi shivered. Where was her sweater? Someone was singing. The song faded in and out. Her eyes fluttered open and she saw
Panic surged through her, but her mouth was gagged. She couldn’t move her hands and feet. She tried to look around, but her neck hurt. Her whole body felt stiff and sore, laid out on the unforgiving boards of the walkway behind the shrine.
He looked down and noticed her eyes were open. “At last, you’re awake,” he said, as if he’d had nothing to do with rendering her unconscious, as if she wasn’t bound, hand and foot. “You aren’t a very good listener, Yumi-san. You ran away before I had a chance to explain.”
He brushed her hair back from her forehead; she turned her head away.
“Don’t be like that.” He sighed. He was silent for a while, staring out into the glittering night, then continued, “I remember the very first time I acted as kaishaku-nin. She begged me to stop the pain, Yumi-san. And I did. I helped her when there was no one else who could.”
He paused, savoring the memory. “I burned incense for her, the kind my mother liked.”
They? Yumi shivered.
“We all have a purpose here on Earth, Yumi-san.” He cocked his head. “Do you know what yours is? I know mine. It was my mother’s final gift to me. She taught me to help others who were in pain, taught me how to help them end it all when the pain became too great. I helped
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