Tales of Crow- The Complete series Box Set

by Chris Ward

  Dai groaned. ‘You’re a cheeky bastard,’ he called. ‘You going to be paying us for this?’

  Forbes shifted uncomfortably. ‘I’m afraid that we have limited manpower. If the helicopter is unable to land, you could be stuck up here for several days. The weather forecast says the snow will close in again this evening.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I do appreciate your cooperation in all this. Snow shovels can be found in the janitor’s cupboard next to reception. Now, if there are no questions, I’d like to thank you for your time and efforts, and apologise one more time.’

  As Forbes got down off the stage, the two band members and Kaede wandered over to Jun and Akane. Jun felt Akane’s fingers tighten over his as Kaede looked him up and down.

  ‘Hey,’ Ken said.

  For a while Jun had forgotten that Plastic Black Butterfly was one of his all-time favourite bands, and that the lead guitarist and the drummer—by far the two coolest members of the band, in his humble opinion—were standing in front of him, looking as pissed off as he felt. One of them was even banging his ex-girlfriend.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come out.

  ‘He has all your CDs,’ Akane blurted. ‘And until he thought it was kind of lame to have posters of your band on his wall, his bedroom was so dark you could have set it on fire and still not been able to see anything. When he saw you at Summer Sonic in Tokyo four years ago he kept his wristband on for three months. When he was twelve, he told me that if he ever had a daughter, he would name her Butterfly—’

  ‘All right, shut up!’ Jun interrupted.

  Akane grinned. ‘Guys, meet your greatest fan.’

  ‘Charmed,’ Dai said. ‘Are you friends with Kaede?’

  As Kaede pouted, Akane said, ‘She’s his girlfriend.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘But since he loves you so much he’s probably quite proud of her.’

  Kaede aimed a slap at Akane. ‘Shut up, you bitch.’

  ‘Tramp.’

  ‘Whore.’

  Ken put up a hand. ‘Okay, ladies! Since this is the winter equivalent of getting stuck on a desert island, let’s not go Battle Royale on ourselves. Let’s go and shovel some snow, shall we?’

  As Dai led Kaede towards the door, Ken fell into step beside Jun and Akane.

  ‘Summer Sonic, yeah? I remember that one. Probably the last big show we ever did.’

  ‘You were awesome.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘And for what it’s worth, your last album was badass, even if it only sold three copies. I own two.’

  Ken laughed. ‘Cheers, kid. You play?’

  ‘Yeah. A bit of guitar, but mostly vocals. I’ve got a band.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Name?’

  Jun gave a bashful smile, feeling his cheeks redden. ‘Shock Tact Ticks. We put out a song called Sledgehammer Carrion Bulldozer.’

  Ken raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you serious? I’ve got that song. It’s magnificent.’

  Jun’s mouth dropped open. Beside him, Akane started to laugh. ‘Dude, are you fucking serious?’

  Ken clapped a hand on Jun’s shoulder. ‘Kid, Plastic Black Butterfly might not be on the crest of the rock wave anymore, but I do my best to keep up with what’s current. I heard about that song from a producer mate. He makes a point of hunting for new bands. He says he listens to so much worthless crap that every time he finds a gem it sticks out. He said when he heard your song on some streaming site he fell out of his chair.’

  ‘You’re just saying that.’

  ‘What I’m saying is you’re good, kid.’ Ken smiled. ‘Unfortunately, that might not be enough, but you can be safe in the knowledge that this guitar player wished he’d written that song.’

  Jun nodded but said nothing. Coming to terms with something so frighteningly awesome would take time. His favourite guitarist liked a song he had written. It was the stuff of dreams.

  ‘That’s awesome,’ he said at last.

  ‘I told you we should just stay here,’ Akane said. ‘Cool stuff seems to happen up here.’

  Ken laughed. ‘I wish I could say the same. Unfortunately, the longer we’re up here the more concerts we’ll miss and the more money we won’t make. Plus, the isolation isn’t good for a bassist with claustrophobia issues and a singer with a dependency problem.’

  ‘Where are they?’

  Ken shrugged. ‘Your guess is as good as mine.’

  ‘Aren’t you worried? They might be out there in the snow.’

  Dai looked back. ‘Bee might be out there in the snow. That spacehead is probably building a treehouse for all we know, in which to await an alien visitation. O-Remo is probably hiding in a closet somewhere.’

  ‘I tell you what, kid,’ Ken said. ‘If you give us a hand to dig out our truck so we can unload a bit of gear, I’ll see if they’ll let us set it up in the pub over there and we can have a bit of a jam.’

  Jun stared. ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Yeah, why not.’

  Akane nudged him. Jun shook the stars out of his vision and looked at her. She was holding out a bright red snow shovel. It was probably unused; the blade had not so much as a scratch.

  ‘Time to get busy, fanboy.’

  ‘Um, thanks.’

  It was clear from the look on his face that Rutherford Forbes was having a very bad day. He was sitting at his large work desk by the window of his office overlooking the forest to the west, the mountain peaks just visible through the trees. Karin had never seen him do any real work there; mostly he just read the newspapers he received via mail order from the UK, or sometimes messed about on the Internet. As a result, his desk was cluttered with trinkets and other junk which on good days she found amusing and on bad days irritating. He had one of those endless pendulum things made out of metal balls, which clicked away for hours every time he set it going. He had a Rubik’s Cube she had never seen him touch, the blue squares making a T with red on one side and green on the other. He had a few little pictures and carvings from across the world: an elephant from Africa, a tiny oil painting of a quaint village street from Greece. And he had one of those rubber stress balls, forever resting inside a large marble ashtray he had bought in Peru. She had never seen him touch it, until today.

  He was crouched forward, staring out of the window, crushing the blue and pink ball between his fingers until the plastic bulged. His face was set into a grimace, and as he first turned towards her, his thinly-haired scalp flushed bright red, she was reminded of Jack Nicholson in The Shining. He looked maddened, incensed, borderline insane.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked, closing the door behind her. ‘I heard about the problems with the students, and I know the snow was unexpected—’

  ‘What do you know about problems, you stupid whore?’ he spat at her, little drops of spittle actually spraying out across the room. ‘So easy to solve everything when you all have to do is lie on your back.’

  Although Karin was taken aback by the unusual viciousness of his tone, it was not the first time. He’d never struck her, but she’d seen the worst storms of his temper, and the best course of action was always to give him some space. She wondered if perhaps today she might be able to bend it to her advantage.

  ‘Oh, Rutherford, I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s insensitive of me to trivialise everything. Is there something I can do to help?’

  He looked uncertain for a moment, and she knew the storm had broken. Perhaps with women from his own country he might have expected an argument, but she was more adept at pacifying him.

  ‘You don’t understand,’ he said sullenly, tossing the stress ball away behind him. ‘This is very bad, very bad … for business.’

  She thought he had been about to say something else, catching himself just in time. He was obviously still in shock after so many of the students were taken ill. There would certainly be an investigation, and if one happened to die it could have massive repercussions. British Hei
ghts was only the tip of the iceberg of his wealth, but what she knew of the rest of his businesses was that they were overseas and she had no intention of leaving Japan. She wasn’t marrying him to be his wife.

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  He shrugged. ‘I had to reassure them that things would be sorted out. I arranged a meeting of all the guests in the dining hall, but there was very little I could say or do. Of course, due to the snow we’ve only got a skeleton staff, and with the collapse of the road—’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You didn’t see the news?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘The access road was destroyed in a landslip caused by the adverse weather conditions. That road is the only way up here during winter, so we’re stuck. Our phone lines are down and the Internet reception is being blocked by something, so we’re stuck waiting and hoping for the rescue workers to send in a helicopter.’

  ‘How long could that take?’

  Forbes shrugged. ‘How long is a piece of string?’

  Karin nodded. It was no wonder he was so worked up. At the knowledge that the road was gone she felt her own claustrophobia closing in, wrapping itself around her. She had never been a fan of the snow, and now it seemed all encompassing, a blind spot on her life. She could only hope that rescue workers could get up to them as quickly as possible, otherwise she might start to go crazy.

  ‘I’ll go and take a swim,’ she said. ‘Perhaps you should join me. It might help you take your mind off things.’

  Something in Forbes’s face changed. He looked her up and down, then his blotchy, dough-ball of a face offered her a lecherous smile. ‘That … you could do yourself, my dear,’ he said, reaching down and unbuttoning his trousers. ‘Come here, won’t you?’

  Years ago it would have disgusted her, but Karin had done far worse in the name of coin since her musical career had coughed its last breath and died. Every cell of Forbes’s disgusting old body repulsed her, but five years in the porn industry had taught her faking extremely well.

  She raised an eyebrow, licked her lips, and kneeled down in front of him.

  A few moments later, Forbes began to groan. Karin closed her eyes, and dreamed of the money she would have when they were married.

  25

  Escape from the snooker room

  ‘Okay, up you go. Can you see a way down?’

  From where he stood up on the window ledge, Mishima shook his head. ‘No. But I might be able to get onto the roof. There’s some guttering that I can grab.’

  ‘Do it then, but hurry up. I want to get the hell out of here.’

  Mishima squeezed himself out through the small window and vanished. Ogiwara stared. Then Mishima’s face appeared, leaning over from above.

  ‘It’s easy, come on.’

  Ogiwara climbed up onto the stack of chairs they had made. It trembled a little under his feet, but he gripped the window ledge to hold himself steady and levered himself up until the bottom edge of the wooden frame was taking his weight.

  Outside, a snowy embankment rose sharply below him, leveled out, and became fenced-in tennis courts. Beyond them was the forest, and beyond that were the bumps of the highland hills further to the south. Everything was coated in a thick carpet of snow. Ogiwara scowled.

  Mishima had been right. They were fifteen metres off the ground, but there was no way down from here. However, the outer window ledge was at least fifty centimetres wide and offered an easy stepping stone to clamber up onto the roof which was just above them. Mishima had cleared the snow off the ledge, and Ogiwara grabbed the edge of a piece of corrugated guttering and hauled himself up.

  ‘Nice view,’ Mishima said, pointing across the roof to where the peaks of the Japan Alps rose in the distance. ‘You can see for miles.’

  ‘Shut up, you clown. Let’s find a way down off this godforsaken roof so I can sort Matsumoto out once and for all.’

  ‘How do you know it was Matsumoto who locked us in?’

  Ogiwara punched Mishima’s arm, making the other boy flinch. ‘Who else would it have been? That weasel must have pinched the key from reception. I’m going to smash his face in.’

  The snow on the flat roof came up to their knees. It was fresh and untouched, although the morning sun had begun to help it settle, making it a chore to wade through. They went across to the front of the building, looking for a way down, but there was just a sheer drop down onto the courtyard, so instead they turned west and hiked along the top of the building towards where a single room appeared to be sticking up out of the roof, just to the west of the main entrance.

  ‘That looks like it could be a janitor’s room or something,’ Ogiwara said. ‘We’ll break in, beat the crap out of the old toad for not clearing the snow, and then go downstairs and batter Matsumoto.’

  Mishima sniggered. ‘Cool.’

  ‘And then I’ll find my girl and get some action.’ He grinned. ‘You can go and have a wank in your room.’

  ‘Shut up.’

  ‘You shut up!’

  When they finally made it to the protruding room, they discovered it was a lot bigger than it had looked from further away across the roof, and was actually two rooms stacked on top of each other. They couldn’t see into the upper room, but the lower room looked like a self-contained living-dining area, complete with bookshelves, tables and chairs and a three-piece suite. Ogiwara leaned against the window and peered in, but the room was empty. He banged on the glass; it was surprisingly thick. Without anything to break it, they had no way to get in.

  ‘Looks like a little love nest,’ Ogiwara said. ‘Probably where that owner guy brings his prostitutes. If I can find the way up I’ll bring Akane up here so I can bang her while I watch the sunset.’

  ‘Awesome.’

  ‘Shut up, you loser. Hurry up and find me a way in.’

  If there was a way into the room from the roof, they couldn’t find it, but exploring near the back of the Grand Mansion, Mishima spotted a maintenance ladder fixed to the wall and waved Ogiwara over.

  It looked an incredibly long way down. ‘We’ll rock scissors paper for who goes first,’ Ogiwara said, then proceeded to play a hooked c-shape with his hand. When Mishima looked aghast, Ogiwara grinned. ‘Tiger’s claw. Beats everything. Screw you, loser. Over you go.’

  Mishima scowled. ‘You’re such a cheat,’ he said.

  ‘Cheats have the hottest girlfriends. Losers have their wrists.’ He gave Mishima a little shove. ‘Come on, hurry up. I’m getting hungry. Make sure you clear off all the ice. I don’t want to fall.’

  Mishima grimaced as he climbed over onto the top of the ladder, but once he was on it he descended quickly. Ogiwara, feeling a little nervous himself, followed him down.

  ‘Right,’ he said, as he jumped off onto the ground. ‘Let’s find Matsumoto and give him a hiding.’

  26

  Games in the snow

  O-Remo had no intention of leaving the Grand Mansion until the roads were cleared and the band could get away with Karin kidnapped and locked in the back—he hadn’t yet figured out how to execute that part of his plan—but within a few minutes of leaving the reception area, as he wandered through the corridors, ducking into and out of rooms in search of some sign of her, the itchiness under his skin began to return.

  He knew what it meant, of course, but he was no longer thinking straight. He needed a hit or he’d start to get worse. All he needed was a little hit.

  He’d dropped most of his stash on the path out in the snow, but there was still a little bit left in his room. It would be enough to sort him out until they could get down to Toyama. If they didn’t make it down by nightfall, though, he’d be in trouble. He didn’t want to think about that.

  He went down to the recreation room and slipped out of the door on to the covered west walkway. The wind had been blowing from that direction, meaning that while the east walkway was buried under drifts of snow, the west was almost clear. O-Remo crept along it, glancing frequently b
ack over his shoulder as if the bird thing might appear again. Even though the sky was as blue as a mountain pond and the sun was shining brightly over the top of the buildings, the thought of seeing that thing made his stomach churn. He was beginning to doubt himself again, unsure whether he’d really seen it, or whether he’d been suffering some sort of drug-induced hallucination.

  You didn’t hallucinate on heroin. Anyone who knew anything about substances would tell you that. But O-Remo had dipped his fingers into enough mind-altering pies over his career to have left some pretty nasty stuff kicking about in his body. Who knew what was inside him, just waiting for a trigger? He’d read all the stories about bad acid trips, about people never being quite the same again, and wondered whether the bird thing might have been a figment of his chemically enhanced imagination. The more time that passed, the more possible it seemed.

  His room in the dormitory building looked as he had left it. The bed was untouched, and his case still stood under the window. He sat down on the bed, trying to remember where he had hidden his remaining stash, then with scrabbling hands he pushed the mattress back and stuffed his hand underneath, imagining his hand closing over the little bag of goodness that would get him through the rest of the day.

  It came away empty.

  Panicking, O-Remo stood up and threw the mattress back. Then, at the sight of nothing but the springs of the bed, he got down on his side and pushed himself underneath, hands windmilling across the floor, looking for where it might have fallen.

  For more than two minutes he scrabbled like someone suffering a seizure, then he managed to control himself enough to realise the horrible truth.

  It was gone.

  He sat up and pushed himself back against the wall, wrapping his hands around his knees, trying to stop shaking. Suddenly the room seemed incredibly cold. His heart was skipping in his chest, unsure what rhythm to choose. It wasn’t just the need for a fix that was screwing with him, it was the fear of being unable to find one. He’d been to enough therapy sessions to know that withdrawal was as much in the mind as it was to do with the chemical dependency of his body, but when he was in the grip of it, that knowledge made no difference. The need overcame everything.