‘So, it would seem her story is true.’
‘There’s a catch,’ O’Hara said.
‘Ah?’
‘She’s got a shadow.’
‘Anybody known to us?’
‘No. In fact, judging from his manner, I would say he is not even of the Game. He acts more like an American gangster.’
‘What else?’
‘He is large, with bullet head and little pig ears. They are so small, they’re almost a deformity.’
‘And this man, Little Ears, he followed her?’ Kimura asked.
‘He watched your meeting from the hail of the Ashikaga shoguns. Sammi stayed with him the entire time.’
‘Hmm. If it is a trap, does it not seem likely she would have told him where she was going so he could go ahead?’
‘Yes,’ O’Hara said. ‘Unless they are even more clever than we imagine.’
Kimura looked back at the stone boat in the garden for a few moments and nodded. ‘That is an option,’ he agreed. ‘Have you arranged to meet her later?’
‘Yes, at the old place in Amagasaki.’
‘And you will be there ahead of them?’
‘Right. Unless she gives him the address first.’
‘You will know if they are partners. She will tell him where the meeting place is and he will go ahead. If he stays behind her, get between them and force him to make a desperate move. If he does, you will know.’
‘One other thing. I have checked oat her papers. She is what she says she is.’
‘By tonight you will know. This is the first time I have had any feeling about those who have been sent here. I like the young woman. I hope she is what she appears.’
‘Either Sammi or I will call you after it’s over.’
‘I will be waiting.’
The big man got up and went to the door. He looked back at Kimura and Miei and chuckled. ‘You certainly have a way with the young ladies. What’s your secret?’
‘I tell them if they make love to an old man, the gods will add many years to their life.’
‘And...’
‘And they believe me.’
IV
They drove south on the Kobe highway, around the sweeping curve of the bay until, looking back over her shoulder, on what was an uncommonly clear night, she could see the lights of the big industrial plants and shipyards of Osaka harbor.
The trip along the waterfront into a rowdy little village between Osaka and Kobe, its streets teeming with sailors and workers in hardhats, took less than half an hour. They were in what appeared to be the red4ight district. The driver, an elderly man who muttered a lot to himself, guided the Honda through the heavy pedestrian traffic, entered a narrow, winding Street, ablaze with neon calligraphy, pachinko parlours and strip joints, and then turned into an even narrower alley.
The driver stopped in front of a tattoo parlour, twenty or so feet from the main street. He turned to her. ‘Missu sure about numba?’ he asked. ‘Thisu no prace you go.’ He checked the piece of paper and shook his head. ‘Thisee bad place all over.’
‘How much?’ she asked. ‘Ikura desu ka?’
He told her the fare and continued shaking his head as she counted it out. ‘No good bah, no good bah,’he repeated several times.’
‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘It’s getting to be the story of my life. I’ve been in every no good bah between here and Rio de Janeiro. Arigato, old buddy.’
‘Wanna me wait?’ he asked.
She brightened. There was a sense of security in knowing somebody in the country was looking out for her.
‘Hai. Domo arigato,’ she said. ‘I’ll just check.’ She got out and went into the tattoo parlour. The operator was naked from the waist up. He was a short man with an enormous belly and his head was shaved, except for a tuft at the back, which was tied in a pony tail. The man he was working on was covered with tattoos. Hardly an inch of skin on his torso and arms had escaped the needle.
‘Uh, anybody speak English?’ Eliza asked timidly.
The tattooist stared at her without expression, grunted and went back to work. The needle hummed and the customer jumped as it touched his back.
‘Speak Engrish a riddle bit,’ the tattooed man said.
‘I’m looking for the Red Dragon Fireworks office,’ she said. ‘It’s supposed to be here, in this building.’
‘Fiewooks?’
‘Fireworks. Firecrackers. You know, boom, boom.’ She made a giant imaginary mushroom with her arms.
‘Ah.’ He nodded and smiled and pointed toward the floor.
‘Downstairs? Uh... shita ni?’ she asked.
He nodded again. ‘Crosed up.’
‘Crosed up?’
He pantomimed closing a door and locking it.
‘Oh, closed up. For the night? Uh. .. nasai?’
The tattooed man shook his head. ‘Alee time.’
‘Forever? For good?’
‘Hai.’
Great, Gunn. Down an alley in the middle of Shit City, Japan, and the store’s closed. Any other bright ideas?
‘Domo arigato,’ she said, with a tiny bow.
‘Do itashimashite,’ he answered.
She went back outside and walked to the doorway beside the tattoo parlour. There was a red sign beside the door with gold letters, but it was in calligraphy. A light gleamed feebly inside. She tried the door. It was open. She cracked it a few inches and stuck her face up to the opening.
‘Hello? Whoever you are? Are you there?’
She pushed it open a little more and went in. There was a small anteroom followed by a flight of stairs. Nobody had used this building for a very long time; refuse littered the anteroom and the steps. She walked to the head of the steps and yelled down: ‘Hello! Anybody there?’
Still nothing. Another weak lamp glimmered on the end of a cord hanging from the ceiling at the foot of the staircase.
Well, the note said to go down to the pier on the first floor. Let’s do it, Gunn.
She started down the stairs.
Across the street, the man with the little ears stepped from a doorway. He had watched her get out and enter the tattoo shop. Now the cab driver was watching the building she had entered. He would be a nuisance. Little Ears strolled across the alley and approached the taxi from the driver’s rear. As he got to the window, the driver turned and looked up at him. Little Ears struck him with his right hand, a short, straight blow with the fingertips, just below the ear. The cab driver’s head jerked against the headrest, and his mouth fell open. A moment later, he crumpled in the seat.
Little Ears approached the building cautiously. The window in the front door was haloed with dust. He made a small circle with his hand and looked in. The Gunn woman was at the foot of the steps. She turned into a hallway and went out of view. Little Ears quietly entered the building.
The place was scary. Eliza found herself in a long grim narrow hallway. At the far end she could see a door hanging awkwardly from its hinges, and beyond it, the bay. A foghorn bleated far off in the darkness someplace and was answered by another, from even farther away.
She walked about halfway down the hail and stopped. There were sounds all around her: water slapping at pilings; the creaking of old wood; and somewhere in front of her in the darkness, a rat, squealing and skittering across the floor. Squinting down into the darkness, she said to herself, You’re not walking down there, Gunn. There is no way you are going one step farther.
‘Hello?’
Nothing.
I’m not going another inch. I don’t think this is funny at
A door opened at the far end of the corridor and yellow light flickered on the floor. She walked a little closer. The sounds surrounded her now. The stairs behind her, creaking with age; the dock, groaning with the tide.
She was nearly at the doorway when a hand grabbed her from behind. It squeezed her mouth shut. She felt cold metal against her throat. She tried to scream, but it was impossible. Breath, foul with garlic, was hot against her cheek.