As was his wont, though, Ogi didn't explain any further, instead taking up where Dancer had left off. "None of the people we've been negotiating with over possible venues has criticized Guide for being responsible for ter- rorist acts. And they remember Patron and his Somersault very well. All the early reports in the papers touched on the former radical faction that held him captive and drove him to his death. Could they be afraid of an attack on Patron?"
As he listened to Ogi, Kizu thought of the lounge in his apartment build- ing where he'd read the newspapers that morning. If you removed the parti- tion between it and the dining room, it could easily seat four or five hundred people, even allowing for a small temporary stage. The dining room was closed, and the apartment bulletin had reported that very few people used the lounge. It shouldn't be hard, should it, to rent that room?
"The underground lounge of my apartment building is built in Ameri- can style and would seat five hundred people for a meeting," Kizu said. "Why don't you try there. The building manager is an American, so I doubt he'd react the way Japanese do. There's no parking lot, but it's close enough from the Akasaka-Mitsuke subway to walk."
After Ikuo parked the minivan in the garage, he and Ogi spread out a map of Tokyo and began examining it. Dancer came back in. As soon as Kizu had explained his idea to her, she nearly yelled at the young men.
"Why are you wasting time checking out the location? Every other hall has turned us down, so that's our last hope. Have the Professor call right away and begin negotiations!"
The apartment manager responded that as long as it wasn't some openly anti-American political meeting he didn't see a problem. Thus the first hurdle regarding Guide's memorial service was overcome.
Ikuo was put in charge of coordinating initial arrangements for the ser- vice, as well as organizing a security team. Considering how kind the man- ager had been, they wanted to do their utmost to see that no acts of violence took place in the confines of this American-owned property. As far as prepa- rations for the service, everyone, from Kizu on down, pinned their hopes on Ikuo. Ikuo's plan of attack, however, remained secret, and he said nothing about the lineup he had in mind for the security team. Kizu recalled the three young men at Patron's press conference, and how Ikuo had, if only for a short while, dealt with them. At any rate, Ikuo was out of the office on related matters when Kizu stuck his head in and spoke with Dancer. Ogi, too, was out helping arrange the service, so Dancer and Ms. Tachibana were left to run the office.
"Professor, you know Ikuo best, right?" Dancer said. "He's such a male chauvinist that if you or Patron aren't there and I ask him how arrangements are going, I barely get a response."
"You have to admit he's reliable, though," Ms. Tachibana added.
Dancer and Ms. Tachibana were hard at work addressing individual invitations to the memorial service, using the list of names Ogi had come up with, lumping together those who had founded their own special groups after leaving the church. Patron had hoped to invite the church's Kansai headquar- ters, if there was enough space in the improvised meeting room. Dancer re- read the letters they'd received from individuals, as well as the replies sent in to Ogi's inquiries, checking to see that there wasn't some hidden leg-pulling in the letters. For her part, Ms. Tachibana addressed the envelopes in a tran- quil, beautiful script.
"Neither Patron nor Ogi can detect simple malice in others," Dancer explained, "but I can sniff out people who aren't up front. Due to my bad upbringing, perhaps."
"Patron took great care with letters from people he didn't know,"
Ms. Tachibana added, ever serious. "I was quite moved to find he'd kept the note I sent him years ago about my younger brother, folded up all nice and neat."
"Such a heartfelt letter must have been a great encouragement to him,"
Dancer said. "There are several letters that respond to Guide and Patron's having fallen into hell. Patron and Guide have always been kind to me, and I've never properly expressed my thanks. I did and said some things to Guide I wish I could take back now, but I can't."
"I'm sure that's not true," Ms. Tachibana said, looking straight at Dancer so intently through her oval glasses that Dancer could only look down.
"I'd like to explain to Patron about the place we're going to use for the memorial service," Kizu said. "Could I see him now?"
"I'll go see if he's up. He hasn't been sleeping well lately and has been taking medicine during the day."
Soon after Dancer left, the sound of the hand bell ringing from Patron's room told them he was awake.
3
When Kizu went in, Patron was standing beside the armchair waiting for him, wearing what looked like a brand-new light-colored gown. To Kizu he seemed quite lively.
"I understand you negotiated with the people from the American uni- versity," Patron said.
Kizu proceeded to tell him about the underground lounge at his apart- ment. The building's main entrance was at the basement level, with the first floor facing an expansive garden in back with a pond; the gently sloping gar- den had a calmness about it you wouldn't expect to find in the heart of Tokyo.
The participants would walk down from the right side of the building and enjoy the vista as they headed toward the memorial service.
Kizu finished his explanation, but still Patron stayed beside him. He didn't seem to have anything he wanted to talk about but just cheerfully en- joyed gazing at Kizu. Kizu broached the topic of Guide's background and what he'd heard from the newspaper reporter, and Patron filled in even more of the details. Guide's uncle-who'd found the infant Guide beside his dead mother at a collection spot in Nagasaki for bodies of people killed in the bomb- ing and taken him home-was a man of strong faith. As he grew up, Guide mourned his absent mother; though he knew how she had died, he had no actual memories of her. He felt his mother's death and his father's disappear- ance after the war were part of God's plan for him and had led to his good fortune in being taken in by his kind, naively optimistic uncle, but still he struggled with a sense of guilt toward his parents whenever he went to church.
Guide's father was at the front in China when Nagasaki was hit by the atomic bomb. After he was repatriated, he made one visit to his brother-in- law's family, in the Goto Islands off the coast of Nagasaki, where they'd been evacuated. He didn't reclaim his son, and even after Guide's uncle had re- built the clinic and moved back to Nagasaki City, he didn't get in touch. The one time he was at his brother-in-law's in Goto, this repatriated officer was obviously greatly disturbed. He drank to excess and told them how in China, he'd witnessed unspeakable atrocities committed by Japanese troops. He had planned to resist if they tried to force him to massacre peasants and rape women, but he knew it wasn't enough just to sit by passively while others killed and looted.
The fact that he was an officer, a doctor, also weighed heavily on him, because of what the Chinese novelist Lu Shun had written: If you're going to war, it's best to go as a doctor… It's heroic, yet safe. You can't avoid beingtested.
Was this the will of GodP Ever since he was a child, Guide had thought often about God's will, no doubt because of his father's stories, as told to him by his adopted father.
The Nagasaki that his father saw after he was repatriated was utterly destroyed by an atomic bomb, the second to fall on Japan. Nagasaki had the highest concentration of Catholics in Japan. He'd committed no atrocities himself, yet his own wife, a woman of strong faith, was killed and her youth- ful body destroyed, leaving a baby behind. This had to be God's will, God's plan, he concluded. A sin is committed in a certain place, and just by being in that place aren't those who didn't participate equally guilty? Further, when God punishes us, he doesn't distinguish between the sinful and the blame- less. We're punished for the simple fact that we're human.