Evil and the Mask

by Fuminori Nakamura

  He picked up his whiskey again. I took out my pen.

  “I’ve recorded all of this. The whole conversation.”

  He looked at me impassively.

  “Since you’re the Number Two in the Kuki Group, that could make life difficult for you. That you’re helping JL, and all your crazy plans.”

  He laughed softly.

  “Were you just pretending to be drunk, coming up with a feeble trick like that? What a loser.”

  From my bag I removed the bundle of documents and the compact disks.

  “These contain proof of some of the things you’ve done so far. Even a recording of you killing your own daughter in this very room.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Your secret discussions with a certain politician. Your illegal exports of large numbers of weapons, including centrifuges that could be used to develop nuclear weapons and helicopters that can be converted for military use. Even proof that you killed two prostitutes.”

  He regarded me with a bored expression.

  “How did you get these?”

  “Your own father was checking up on you the whole time. He always had reservations about you. He suspected that one day you’d be a danger to the Group.”

  “That detective?”

  “I can’t say. But your father had lots of other investigators apart from him. In terms of keeping tabs on people, he was way ahead of you. He compiled this material when you started going off the rails, as a threat to make you stop.”

  “I got someone to search his room after he died, and there were no records.”

  “He was careful.”

  I gripped my knees to stop my hands shaking.

  “People like you, until your evil takes over completely, you pile up one crime after another. It goes without saying there’s going to be a record.”

  I glanced at the knife on the table.

  “Now even if you shoot me or something, it won’t do you any good.”

  I looked at my watch. It was five to one.

  “These are copies. In fact, I made multiple copies, and at one A.M. a friend is going to send them all off to the metropolitan police, the public prosecutor, the newspapers and TV, foreign corporations whose interests are opposed to the Kuki Group, and to the shareholders of every company you own. The cops will be knocking on your door any day now. You’ll be caught and you can tell the police whatever you like, I don’t care anymore. I hope you fall into the arms of the law, into a media storm, into the frenzy you were just telling me about.”

  To my surprise, he grinned.

  “So the old man didn’t love me after all.”

  The smile stayed on his face. Images of Father’s missing ear, of the farming village in the Philippines that was the trigger for his explosion of violence, floated through my mind. Mikihiko sighed.

  “Not bad. But you don’t understand the first thing about me.”

  He took another gulp of scotch.

  “Those things don’t work on me. Do you really think I care about stuff like that? You’re a real disappointment.”

  I took the explosive device out of my bag, the one that Ryosuke Ito had given me for safekeeping.

  “This is cheap and simply made,” I said, “but it’ll blow away everything in this room. Now it’s switched on.”

  I pressed the button on the cell phone that I’d modified and connected to the wiring. His face betrayed nothing.

  “If you want to stay alive, it’s easy. All you have to do is turn off the phone. You’ve got thirty minutes.”

  I got to my feet.

  “I hope you get scared for your own life and turn this thing off. And think about all the people you’ve killed, all the people you were going to kill.”

  He gave a short laugh.

  “Scared for my life? You’re a cancer, aren’t you?”

  “I was just playing my small part, while evil monsters like you and Shozo Kuki took the leads. All I did was tie Shozo’s malicious inquiries to your evil. And besides, Fumihiro Kuki is dead. My name is Shintani.”

  I put on my gloves. I didn’t have any fingerprints, but I gathered up the knife and glass anyway, conscious that they might show palm prints. On the cell phone’s display the tiny numbers were counting down.

  “You don’t understand a thing,” he said quietly. “That won’t affect someone as powerful as me.”

  “That’s what you think.”

  “You’re wrong.” He gave a sigh of exasperation. “Just suppose that the world really worked the way you want it to. You’d still never get me inside a courtroom. The status quo will never change, because that’s just how it is.”

  He continued wearily.

  “Nothing will touch me. Unfortunately. Nothing can touch me. In the end, nothing will change. I’ll just keep on living, just as I am now, whether I like it or not, wrapped in my own despair. And you will lose the girl.”

  “You’ll never get your hands on Kaori,” I said.

  Our eyes locked for a few seconds. My gaze wavered, but his dull eyes didn’t move. The timer on the bomb continued to count off the seconds.

  “And while you’re scared for your own life,” I began, but he cut me off.

  “You really don’t have a clue. Nothing will change. Nothing can change. That’s not what I want. Scared for my own life? What the hell are you talking about? Is that what you want?”

  He was still lying deep in the sofa, wooden as ever, as though he was planning to sleep there. His face darkened.

  “Are you telling me to cling to this ridiculous world? To life?”

  He spoke lazily, sipping his drink.

  “You must be joking.”

  I turned and walked away without answering. I could feel his presence at my back, but nothing happened as I left the room. I went down the hall, putting on my mask and beanie. Opened the front door, closed it gently behind me, lit a cigarette and headed towards the elevator. Not a sound came from Mikihiko Kuki’s room.

  “I THINK THE danger to Ms. Kaori has passed for the time being. They’ve started a full-scale manhunt for that JL suspect, so he’ll probably be caught before long. At the moment she’s at Konishi’s place, and her building has tight security, so even if the guy does turn up she’ll be safe.”

  The detective took a mouthful of hot coffee. I’d offered him tea, but he’d opted for coffee as usual.

  “Okay, what about the media?”

  “They’ll handle it very carefully, because the dead man is Mikihiko Kuki, the second-in-command of the Kuki Group, and because he died while they were still checking whether the information they received was reliable.”

  On TV every station was running the story of Mikihiko’s demise, of the explosion at his apartment, though they were saying they couldn’t confirm if it was suicide or murder.

  “When I looked at the material you gave me,” I said, “it felt like a great weight had been placed on my shoulders. Mikihiko was raised by Shozo as a cancer. His father got tired of him partway through and let him go free, but by then it was already too late. Maybe, however, he believed that the discontinuation of his education was a sign of his father’s love …”

  “That seems unlikely.”

  He put the cup down quietly.

  “His life was tragic. He looked like his spirit was broken. I …” I hesitated, then went on. “The estimated time of death was one thirty A.M.”

  “Yes.”

  “The same time the bomb went off. In other words, during that thirty minutes he didn’t leave the room or take his own life. He just sat there the whole time.”

  Mikihiko’s last minutes were really bothering me. His delirious ranting about death—I couldn’t get it out of my head. I wondered if he was in that state of exaltation again at the moment of the blast. Did he feel everything soaking through him, feel himself becoming his true self? While he was sitting lethargically on the sofa, watching the numbers on the bomb growing smaller, did he feel it? Did he see the flash of the explosion?

  �
�I don’t know if this is a good outcome or not.”

  “I guess no one does,” he replied.

  We were meeting in a room at the same hotel, where the detective had some kind of connection. A plane passing the window was just a shadow against the sun behind it. Perhaps the room was soundproofed, because there was no noise from outside.

  “But I think you managed to change the course of events,” he said suddenly, “whether you wanted to or not.”

  “What course of events?”

  “I don’t know. But in return, you’ve been badly damaged.”

  A banner was scrolling across the TV screen, saying that the body of a man who appeared to be the JL member wanted by the police had been found on the street. The cause of death was unknown.

  “The press are having a field day, aren’t they?” the detective muttered. “I wonder what happened to him?”

  “Who knows?”

  I watched the broadcast, sipping my coffee. It didn’t taste of anything. Everything seemed to be passing me by without touching me.

  “But I had nothing to do with that.”

  “I guess they have their own story, even though they’ve been taken advantage of by people like Mikihiko Kuki.”

  The presenter started reading the news flash out loud.

  “But even assuming, for the sake of argument, that Mikihiko and his cronies planned it all, can people really be manipulated like that? Surely it can’t be that simple?”

  “I don’t know. But there’s a rumor that pretty soon several politicians and government officials are going to be under the microscope over those illegal arms exports, based on that information. That might put the brakes on them for a while.”

  The room was spotlessly clean. The heater was on, but my breath was coming out in white puffs. I stood up and started to walk away, but my legs went weak. I thought I was going to fall over.

  “What are you …?”

  From his tone I sensed that even from behind he could tell I was unsteady.

  “What are you going to do next?”

  I debated whether or not to turn around, but realized I had nothing to add.

  “I don’t know, but for now, could you please make sure that Kaori is safe?”

  I knew this was redundant, since the JL guy was dead and he’d just told me she was in no danger. But I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  I WENT HOME and took off my coat. Pulled out a chair at the table, then went and sat on the bed instead. My pulse was uneven, so to take my mind off it I opened the fridge, took out a bottle of mineral water and drank. My heartbeat still wouldn’t settle. I switched on the TV, but they were still going on about JL. I turned it off again and stood up. My bag was still lying on the table, as though I’d left it there on purpose. Inside was the bottle of cyanide.

  I hadn’t given it to Mikihiko because I figured that the bomb on its own would be enough. Though maybe that wasn’t the real reason. Maybe I’d held onto it and brought it home so I could use it myself. I realized that I was staring at the bag, forced myself to look away, but I could feel my eyes being drawn back to it. It would be so easy. All my suffering until now—my heartbreaks, my depression, my regrets—all I had to do was drink that poison and they’d all disappear.

  I hunted for a distraction, found my cigarettes and lit one. Just like the coffee I’d drunk at the hotel, it had no flavor at all. My pulse started to beat even faster and it hurt to breathe. I sidled towards the bag, took out the bottle and gazed at it for a long time. Just looking, I thought. It was cold to the touch. That chill felt right in my hand.

  Remembering my half-finished cigarette in the ashtray, I picked it up and took a drag. I couldn’t take my eyes off the bottle. It was like it was calling me. I’ll just take the top off and take a peek, I thought, my body trembling with indecision.

  I drank more water, focused on its coldness in my mouth. I told myself to put the bottle away for now, replaced it carefully in the backpack. My eyesight was still contracted to a narrow circle. Suddenly I needed to use the toilet, but just as I was leaving the room my cell phone rang. It was Kyoko Yoshioka.

  “What are you up to?” she asked in her high-pitched voice.

  I remembered that I’d called her once when I was drunk. Letting her know my number by mistake.

  “You could say I’m busy.”

  It sounded like she was outside somewhere.

  “Oh, okay, I’ll keep it short. Um, that movie I was watching at your place, with the story that didn’t go anywhere, what was it called?”

  I walked slowly back into the living room.

  “Nostalgia. It’s Tarkovsky.”

  “Ah.”

  She fell silent. In the background I could hear the noise of cars, the shrill laughter of other pedestrians.

  “Okay, thanks. Sorry. Bye.”

  There was another long pause, and then she hung up.

  A DROPLET FORMED, slid down under its own weight, joined with other drops to become a trickle. The water reflected the lights. When I picked up my glass the drops seemed to cling to it, then quivered soundlessly on the table top as though unsure what to do next. I stuck a straw in my iced coffee, but it didn’t taste of anything. I couldn’t even feel its coldness on my tongue.

  The man sitting at the table on my left, his head looked soft like a fruit. It seemed to swell and collapse in on itself. I felt I was suffocating. At that moment the door opened and Kaori walked in. She nearly bumped into the waiter, bowed and then turned towards me with a smile. I sipped my water and raised a hand to wave, but my gesture was too small to be noticeable.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Have you been waiting long?”

  “No.”

  Seeming not to notice the state I was in, she called the waiter and ordered Darjeeling tea.

  “I’m sorry about today. I know we were supposed to meet at the club, but …”

  “Did something happen?”

  “Yeah, there was …”

  She looked down, as if reluctant to go on. I felt like the words were being dragged out of me. A customer nearby had put his briefcase on a chair, and for some reason I imagined that it contained a bottle of cyanide.

  “I haven’t had many customers lately, so Azumi suggested asking you to invite me out. It must be a pain. But even though you kindly agreed, suddenly there seemed to be some kind of trouble between the manager and the owner of the building, and the bar was closed for the day.”

  “Oh, well. I guessed there must have been a problem of some sort.”

  “I don’t know, but I’m very sorry for putting you out.”

  “No, no, don’t worry about it.”

  Beneath her white suit, her legs were sheathed in black stockings. Around her slender neck she wore a silver necklace. I couldn’t bring myself to look at the supple movements of her body directly.

  When I’d received her email invitation, I had immediately replied that I would come, but I had no idea what I would do when I met her, what we would talk about. Everything I had to do was already done. I had thought my life was already over before I had the plastic surgery, when I was standing on the roof of my condo looking down into the void without a thought in my head. In spite of that, I’d kept on living. And now I’d ended up here, and there was nothing left for me to do.

  “Mr. Shintani?”

  Kaori was staring at me with her big round eyes. Since it wasn’t a work day she wasn’t wearing much make-up, and she was so beautiful it made my heart ache.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Sorry?”

  It didn’t feel like we’d been there that long, but the café had emptied out. The businessman with the briefcase was still there, though. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the bottle of poison was inside.

  “I’m sorry for dragging you all this way. You must have better things to do.”

  “No, no, it’s not that,” I said.

  I tried to smile to smooth things over, but the muscles in my face wouldn’t function
properly.

  “I’m just a bit tired from work.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Oh, it’ll be all right. I’m on holiday at the moment, but I still haven’t caught up on sleep.”

  I finished my iced coffee, then reached for my cigarettes, just to give my hands something to do.

  “Is your work really busy?”

  “No, well, no more than any other office job.”

  The waiter refilled my water glass with a smile. Kaori was drinking her tea. I hadn’t noticed it arrive. Her lips were moist.

  “What do you do?”

  “Oh, just trading.”

  I remembered with a leaden feeling that I was actually unemployed.

  “It sounds hard.”

  “Not really. Your job looks difficult too.”

  “Not at all.”

  She laughed. It brought back memories of her laughter as a child.

  “The club isn’t that busy. I guess it’s nothing to joke about. At the moment we get a basic flat wage, but they’re saying we could go to working on commission. If that happens I might have to quit.”

  “What would you do then?”

  “Mm, who knows?”

  She rested her arms on the table. Her slender fingers were moving slightly.

  “When I was young, I thought about going to college and training as a nurse.”

  Her voice tailed off.

  “You could still do that.”

  “No, it’s impossible. I don’t have the confidence. And I don’t have much money.”

  I thought of all the money the Kukis must have sent her.

  “But your job looks like it pays well.”

  “Mm. Well, I have money and I don’t. I’d feel bad about using it.”

  “Feel bad?”

  My pulse quickened.

  “Yeah. I can’t explain it very well, but a long time ago I was living with this rich family, and they gave me some money, but I caused them nothing but trouble.”

  I was about to object, but she continued.