He laughed at that.
No indeed.
For more than forty years he’d tried to put aside the shocking developments that had escalated in the cellar of the demolished concentration camp. As often as had all the others there — barring that borderline psychopath, Bruce Tennant — he regretted allowing his hatred and self-righteous fury to get the better of him. It was right that a monstrous child rapist had received his dues, and that the brother of one of the violated girls should bear witness when that happened, but still, it had been a difficult scene to stomach. When he was first contacted by Andrew Rington he did not know the man, but one thing he was sure of was that he was speaking with someone who was both honourable and admirable, despite the course of action he had suggested. Takumi was only a toddler when his family had been ‘relocated’. He was too young at the time to remember the events at Rohwer, but in the years following the war, when his family returned to their home on the West Coast, he had watched his once beautiful sister dissolve into a pitiful figure, a wreck of humanity hastened by neurosis and paranoia to an early grave. When Rington told him what his sister, Kazumi, had suffered at the hands of Charles Henry Peterson, he knew that the abuse was at the core of her suffering, and the disintegration of her self-worth. Her slow death sentence was imposed the moment that monster first laid his filthy hands on her. To avenge her he’d willingly gone along with the other aggrieved family members. They all burned with fury at the injustice that Peterson had gone unpunished, but none could have guessed what it would lead them to do.
After that night, once all had been sworn to silence, they had parted company. Takumi knew that some of the men were friends and that they would continue to associate with each other, but Takumi was a stranger to them, and glad that it was so. He had left the stench of burning flesh behind, and tried ever since to expunge it from his soul. But — like the phantom pain — it would never leave him. There was always something to remind him; that, he knew, was the way of sin.
He wasn’t surprised when Yukiko Rington telephoned yesterday. He knew his time on earth was nearing its end, and understood that he would be judged and made to pay for his wrongdoing before taking his final rest. His Buddhist teaching said: ‘For every event that occurs, there will follow another event whose existence was caused by the first, and this second event will be pleasant or unpleasant according to its cause.’ Well, however he tried to vindicate his actions in the cellar, there was no getting away from the fact that they were unpleasant. According to Yukiko, four of the co-conspirators had already been served their dues, and it would be only a matter of time until karma came knocking at his door. It was ironic that evil begat evil, and that it chose further evil to punish those involved. He wondered how that circle could ever close, but suspected that it was an impossibility.
His granddaughter, Melissa, had resisted him when he suggested she go out with her friends. She had told him the movie would last two hours, but that she would be gone for at least four. No way would she leave him alone for that length of time. Takumi had then played the ‘grumpy old guy’ card, and sent her off with a flea in her ear, snapping at her that he was quite capable of sitting in a goddamn chair for a few hours, and by suggesting otherwise she was being both dishonourable and spiteful. Melissa had acquiesced, but only on the understanding that he have his cellphone in his lap, her number on speed dial and only the press of a button away. It was a game they both played, but one that satisfied each that they had retained the upper hand. Takumi smiled at the memory of the kiss she’d laid on his forehead, before she had rushed happily to join the friends waiting outside in the taxicab.
He was happy that Melissa was out of the way. He was only sorry she would be the first to find him dead.
‘I may be blind, but I’m not deaf.’
He heard a second click from behind him. The first had been subtler, but it was the inescapable sound of bodyweight adjusting on a loose floorboard. He was familiar with the sound. When Melissa would sneak in to check on him without wanting to alert him to her presence, she had learned to step over the loose board, but often forgot that her perfume was a dead giveaway. The interloper did not wear expensive cologne, he smelled of sweat and leather.
‘I know you are there,’ Takumi said again. He picked up the cellphone and hit a button. It was not to alert Melissa, quite the opposite. He hit the red button to turn it off. Then he reached for the table his wheelchair stood alongside and placed the phone down in clear view of the man behind him. ‘There,’ he said, ‘you have nothing to fear. Come forward.’
Still he got no reply. Takumi placed his hands on the wheel rims, held one in place, twisted the other. He turned abruptly so that he was facing the intruder.
‘You can hold your breath, but not for ever. I know you are there… I can smell you.’
‘Can you smell this?’
Takumi reared away, avoiding the acrid stink so close to his nostrils. He recognised the unmistakable tang of cordite. The intruder had placed the barrel of a gun under his nose, and it was evident that it had been fired recently. Once he’d regained his composure, Takumi smiled. If he were facing death it would be with a brave heart. He reached out, placed a finger against the barrel of the gun and pushed it aside. He squinted up at his would be tormentor. Despite what even Melissa believed Takumi was not totally blind. He still had a sense of colours, and could make out the blurred outlines of larger figures, albeit as though peering through moving fog. Darkness hovered over him, the man leaning close, his face an indistinct paler blob at the top.
‘I’m surprised,’ the man said.
‘That I’m not afraid of you?’
‘No. I’m surprised that you’re the only Jap in the bunch. I kinda expected more of you to be involved.’
‘Why would you?’
‘It was Jap bitches who told the lies that had an innocent man murdered.’
‘You speak like you do not like Japanese people.’
‘I don’t. And I don’t like Americans who consort with them either. What I especially don’t like is Jap murderers. That’s why I don’t like you.’
‘You are misguided.’
‘How’s that?’
‘Peterson wasn’t innocent. Far from it. You are avenging a sex offender… a child rapist.’
‘So you say, Jap. But I’ve heard no proof of that. On the other hand I got all the gory details from Bruce Tennant of what you and those other bastards did. Way I heard it, you were the one who held on to the chain while he was strangled to death.’ The man moved, walking round Takumi, forcing the old man to follow his progress by pushing at the wheels. ‘I was going to pay you back in kind until I got a look at you. Kind of pointless hoping to watch you dancing in the air, isn’t it?’
Takumi snorted.
‘Anyway, I didn’t bring a chain with me… just this.’ The gun barrel tapped against the side of Takumi’s jaw. He swiped at the barrel then wished that he hadn’t. He missed and the man laughed at his blind grope. He made himself a promise he wouldn’t react the next time, he wouldn’t give the man the privilege of laughter.
‘You know something?’ The man continued his slow circling of Takumi. This time the old man didn’t turn with him. ‘When first I saw you, saw the suffering you’re going through, I decided to let you live. I think what you have to put up with now is preferable to the quick death I was going to give you. But…’ He laughed. ‘I’ve changed my mind. I’m still going to kill you. Not with my gun, though.’