Twilight of Gutenberg

by Hitoshi Goto

  “Um, it only receives German broadcasts,” he hastily excused himself, as though he’d noticed my gaze.

  Next to the radio stood a framed photograph of Asbury and his wife, together with a girl of around fourteen or fifteen, probably their daughter. From the look of it, the photograph must have been taken some time ago.

  “Well, sir, what do you want to hear from me?” Asbury asked, without waiting for the tea to come.

  Schmidt answered, “I want you to tell Mr. Hoshino in detail about the oriental you found the other day. It might be an acquaintance of his. Speak frankly.” He spoke so gravely it was almost comical.

  Asbury cleared his throat and, looking thoroughly embarrassed, started speaking. He spoke with such servility that I felt extremely uncomfortable, and feeling half sorry for him I peppered him with questions.

  I had heard everything I needed to know within about fifteen minutes, but in the end nothing new came out of it. In other words, he’d stumbled across the bodies when he went chasing after his umbrella that had been whisked off by the wind. I tried asking him some trick questions, but he didn’t seem to know anything about Commander Yagyu.

  †

  Once we’d finished at Asbury’s place, Schmidt took me to beach where Major Amemiya’s body was found. It was surprisingly close, only two or three minutes walk away, just past a small stone tower and down some steps.

  “It’s one of the smallest beaches on the island,” the detective said, adding that the tower was a fortress dating from Napoleon’s time.

  I stood on the beach and looked around again. It did indeed feel small, hemmed in by rocks on both sides.

  “It was just about here that they were found. They were both face down, half in the water.”

  Schmidt pointed to the centre of the beach. There was nothing there, just an ordinary seashore.

  We stood for a while without talking. The only sound that reached my ears was the natural rhythm of the waves coming and going.

  “It’s a desolate spot, isn’t it?” Schmidt said suddenly.

  “But at least it’s sunny today. That morning it was pouring with rain,” Cleary responded.

  After that we headed for the tree where someone resembling Commander Yagyu had shown up in the photograph. It was back up the stairs from the beach then diagonally to the left. The tree roots protruded from the ground beneath my feet, but it wasn’t all that difficult to walk on. When I leaned my body slightly forward and rested my left hand on the trunk, I had a good view over the coast. I turned around and saw a low thicket of trees, dense but possible to walk through. Turning off the path down to the beach, you would be able to get here without being seen.

  Even so…

  I had never met Commander Yagyu. According to what I’d heard in Berlin, he was the elite of the elite officers of Japan’s combined fleet, yet he had come all this way to this island during wartime. What on earth had brought him here?

  He must have had an iron will, and the conviction, or urge, or sense of duty that made him act. I tried to come up with the right word, but none of them seemed quite right.

  Just then, a completely different word floated up in the back of my mind. It was startling, but it was the only word that had the power just to come this far.

  Just when I was musing over this word in my mind, Schmidt spoke to me.

  “Mr. Hoshino, that’s enough for this location, isn’t it?”

  I came back to myself and nodded.

  “Well then, let’s go see the watchtower where the unidentified man was found.”

  We got back into the car and headed up a steep slope. Soon after the road levelled out again the concrete watchtower came into view. The clumsy grey artefact stood in the midst of nature. It was about as high as a four-storey building.

  Cleary drove up to the tower and stopped the car, and we all got out.

  Looking up, the sky was a brilliant blue. The pleasant breeze on my face felt damp and smelled of the sea.

  “It’d be nice if we had this weather all the time, wouldn’t it? What do you think? Great view, isn’t it?” Cleary’s nose twitched with pride.

  The panorama spread out before me was indeed spectacular. When I went up close to the cliff, the hundred and eighty degree expanse of sea spread out before me. White wavelets rose up on its surface here and there.

  I couldn’t even imagine the violent storm that took place here the day the bodies were found.

  I went up as close as I could to the cliff edge and leaned out over it. The adjective “sheer” to describe the cliff was right. If I jumped off here, it was very possible I would fall straight down into the sea.

  When I turned around, twenty metres away diagonally behind me I could see the watchtower.

  At Schmidt’s urging, I started walking over to the tower. The concrete was now quite hard. I immediately made out the footsteps left during the investigation. This part had been retouched again afterwards, but the colour was slightly different. As had been described to me earlier, the footprints led into the tower.

  When I entered the tower, there was a staircase with an iron railing. I went up it. The fourth and last section led right up to the roof. Right overhead was the metal trapdoor. I slid open the bolt, and pushed the door upwards to open it. When I poked my head out, I could clearly see the roof, which sloped gently towards the sea. I didn’t see anything suspicious at all. The story of an unidentified body lying here seemed totally from another world.

  Once I’d finished examining the tower, I walked around the surrounding area. As I’d been told, a little distance to the west of the tower was a clump of trees. They were broadleaved trees with many branches, but they weren’t as high as the tower. There was nothing untoward about the trunks or thick branches, and no sign of anyone having tampered with the ground around them.

  “So what do you say, Mr. Hoshino?” Schmidt said, flashing me a smile. “Launching a body from these trees onto the roof would be possible, would it?”

  I pursed my lips without answering, and walked over to the cliff again.

  What’s this?

  “How long has this been here?” I asked pointing at a certain spot.

  At my feet there was a trace of something round, about 60 cm in diameter, having been placed on the ground. It was in a spot that formed an equilateral triangle with the watchtower and the trees.

  “What? Oh, I hadn’t noticed that,” Cleary said. “It does look like something was there.”

  Schmidt craned his neck for a closer look. “It doesn’t look like it’s been there for all that long. It must have been quite heavy, given that the perimeter edge has crushed the grass and cut into the soil. From the size of it, I’d say it was an oil drum.”

  “If so, it was probably used in the construction work on the tower,” Cleary said, putting an end to the discussion.

  “Would it be possible to visit the German couple who the English maid worked for?” I suddenly asked once we were back in the car.

  Schmidt thought about it for a while, but Detective Cleary indicated and pulled over at a German army sentry post, got out to make a phone call, and finally came back.

  “I got permission. Let’s go,” he said.

  “Actually the husband is a senior official of the ministry of foreign affairs and under the direct orders of Foreign Minister Ribbentrop. He and his wife have been living on this island for around two years now. Apparently he said that since a Japanese person had come all this way, not meeting him would go against the spirit of the alliance. The sort of protocol you’d expect from a diplomat.”

  “What is he doing here?”

  “I don’t really know. To us it just looks as though he’s loafing around having fun. It seems he’s a distant relation of the British royal family, and he’s ingratiating himself with all the British residents in the Channel Islands.”

 
“A relative of the British royal family?”

  “You got it. It’s now changed its name to the House of Windsor, but the British royal family originally came from the German House of Hanover. Going back further in time, they have quite a lot of German relatives, you know. And it’s just a rumour, but…” he said, and suddenly switched to French. “In the event that the German Empire brings Britain to its knees, Marquis von Manteuffel will become the first Governor-General of Britain. Now he’s rehearsing.”

  I goggled at him in surprise, and his smile returned. “I don’t suppose there’s any need to worry. The only one who believes there is any possibility for that is Göbbels. At this point even Ribbentrop must think it’s an impossible dream.”

  I was speechless.

  “Does that surprise you?” he asked nonchalantly. “Most of the German people know that we will probably lose this war. It’s just that nobody says it out loud.”

  Before long we reached the central part of the island, and all of a sudden a magnificent gate loomed up in the middle of the countryside.

  “This is the entrance to the estate, I suppose?” Schmidt said in English, staring at the gate.

  “On the mainland there are countless estates like this, but on this island this is the grandest of the country mansions. I heard it was built in the Tudor style,” Detective Cleary said.

  “Have you been here before?”

  “Before the war it was occupied by the richest family on the island, and was just a dream to the humble likes of us.”

  “What happened to them?”

  “Once war broke out they upped and fled for the mainland. I’ve only visited it once and that was since the Germans came, when this case happened and I came along with this lieutenant here, for questioning. But we couldn’t get anywhere with our investigation.”

  As he explained this, Detective Cleary drove out of the beech woods and a country mansion with white plaster and black timbers came into view. The black and white contrast was beautiful, and had fostered the magnificence and solemnity of the building itself through the generations.

  He parked the car in the driveway, and rang the bell at the front entrance. Soon the door swung ponderously open and a young woman with long blonde hair stood in the doorway. Was she the replacement for the murdered maid?

  Lieutenant Schmidt hesitated, then explained in English who we were and why we’d come.

  The woman frowned slightly, but led us inside. Just then our eyes met and, maybe because I was an Oriental, surprise flashed across her face.

  Inside the mansion, the first thing I noticed was a large grandfather clock. Unlike the exterior, the interior was decorated in the Victorian style. Thick carpets covered the floor, and here and there on the walls hung landscapes, portraits, and tapestries.

  They apparently collected all kinds of paintings, from Turner-like landscapes to Vermeer style portraits. With regard to the portraits, whoever had selected these ones certainly had an eye for the aesthetic.

  The portrait of a young noblewoman looking back over her shoulder was marvellous, possibly from around the end of the seventeenth century, with superb spatial composition. In the background, the window frame, wall, and picture hanging on the wall tapered off as you went deeper in. If you extended all the diagonal lines, they converged beautifully around the earnest gaze of the woman’s eyes, a technique that gave the picture three-dimensional depth.

  The colours, too, were magnificent, with blues and yellows skilfully combined. The blue could be ultramarine made from lapis lazuli from Afghanistan. If so, the ultramarine oil paint had probably been dissolved in egg to form tempera.

  “Welcome!”

  My train of thought was suddenly interrupted by a voice speaking in French with the refinement of someone who had received a top-notch education.

  I turned towards the direction I’d heard the voice to see a gentleman of impeccable taste attired in a navy blue double-breasted suit and a woman in a chic green dress standing there. They were younger than I’d expected. The man looked to be in his late forties, and his wife a few years younger. A faint whiff of exquisite perfume emanated from his wife.

  “I am Manteuffel. May there be eternal friendship between your country and mine as allies. I am deeply honoured to welcome a distinguished artist from Paris here today.”

  Embarrassed, I abruptly became tongue-tied.

  I shook his hand, but Schmidt and the detective bowed.

  After some brief pleasantries, we were led into a magnificent study, which had a hint of citrus scent. Here too, the furniture was high quality and perfectly balanced. Many of the furnishings had gold touches, but these did not feel ostentatious, reflecting the good taste of this house’s owner.

  The room was fitted with fine, sturdy bookshelves lined with fine, leather-bound old volumes. After showing us into the room, the couple withdrew, and I spent the time until they came back browsing the shelves. There were books on Roman Law and a collection of essays on Germanic law. There was also one that I couldn’t understand entitled Lex Salica and the Hundred Years’ War.

  I sat down in the armchair I’d been offered, and sank so deep that I almost toppled over. My shoes, too, were buried in the carpet. I glanced to my side. Lieutenant Schmidt was poker-faced, but Detective Cleary was fidgeting, bored.

  Just then the couple came back. I thought I should give some words of praise, and complimented them on the sophistication of the furnishings in the living room.

  “Why, thank you,” the Marchioness said crinkling her eyes, a green that matched her dress, in amusement. “However, the good taste in this house is all of the previous owners, not ours. Sadly they returned to England.”

  Hastily, I looked around. There was a large vase with a beautiful arrangement of fresh flowers. “The flowers in that vase are gorgeous.”

  Pleased, she said, “They are rather interesting. Crow flowers, nettles, daisies, long purples,” she said, listing a number of flowers that, having little knowledge of plants, I’d never heard of. “There is a wonderful traditional art called ikebana in your country too, isn’t there?”

  “You’ve even heard about ikebana?”

  “I was friendly with a Japanese diplomat when I was in London.”

  “Is that so? When I was very young, I lived in London too.”

  When I said this, she looked friendlier, and we talked about London for a while.

  I had no memories of that time, so unfortunately the conversation about London didn’t continue for long, but she looked satisfied at having been able to talk about flowers and England again after a long time.

  “But it would be best to place these flowers under a willow, wouldn’t it?” she said mysteriously.

  Before I could ask what she meant, her husband took up the conversation. “Mr. Hoshino, I believe you went to Berlin before coming here. Did you come here to investigate the accident that befell that Japanese officer?”

  “Yes.”

  “We are also terribly sad about it. As you know, Jayne, who was our maid, also died. She was found at the side of that officer,” Manteuffel said, sadness running across his handsome face.

  “What was Jayne like?”

  This time, his wife answered. Slowly, as though choosing her words. “She was a quick-witted girl. She served us well for two years. We have no children of our own and especially this past year she was…” Having got this far she became choked with emotion, and pressed her handkerchief to her mouth.

  “I’m sorry,” Manteuffel said. “She was a good conversation partner for us, so we are truly sorry for what happened. Even though she was from this island, she was from a good family, and was a very bright girl. She’d worked as a nanny on the mainland too.

  “Before the accident, did you notice any change in her?”

  “No, not at all. That evening she must have gone to her own room after di
nner, but the next morning we realised she was missing, and later on the German army contacted us to tell us of the tragedy.”

  At this point the maid came into the room. She was dressed in a black uniform with a white apron, and carrying a tray laden with teapot and cups.

  I noticed her hands were trembling slightly.

  “I’m sorry. Since Jayne died so suddenly we employed a French girl in her place, but she isn’t accustomed to the work yet. She doesn’t speak very good English, either,” the Marchioness explained quickly, before I had time to say anything.

  I glanced at the maid. Her long blond hair was tied in a ponytail.

  I recognised the hand that held out a cup of tea for me.

  “Vous êtes Catherine?” I asked in French.

  Her hand paused.

  The Manteuffels and Lieutenant Schmidt were watching, so I did my best to keep my expression neutral, and spoke fast. “I met your father in Saint-Malo. He appeared well.”

  Her smile when I said this was unforgettable.

  “That French girl really took a shine to you, Mr. Hoshino,” Lieutenant Schmidt said as we left the mansion. He grinned, and gave me a light nudge.

  Such nudges are usually to the ribs, but he was considerably taller than me so his elbow touched my shoulder instead.

  When I didn’t say anything, Detective Cleary spread his hands wide and took a deep breath. He looked liberated. It was such a sincere expression of emotion that I was charmed.

  I turned back to Lieutenant Schmidt and said as evenly as I could, “There wasn’t anything apparently suspicious, was there? Although I am a little concerned about the expression on the Frenchwoman’s face when she first saw me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That expression was not simply because it’s rare for her to see an Oriental. If that were the case, in my experience it would include some amount of curiosity, or perhaps even aversion. However, in her case there was something resembling fear.