Authors: Kōbō Abe
Instantly her opinion struck me as unassailable truth. “Check it out,” I commanded the insect dealer. “Ask to speak to Sengoku.”
Nodding, he flicked the transmitter back on.
—Come in. Sorry to keep you waiting. Would you mind putting the sweet-potato man on the line? Thanks. Over.
—He’s gone out, but I can leave him a message. Over.
—What do you mean? You’re in his store, aren’t you? Over.
—No, I’m in the office over by the tangerine grove. There’s a radio transmitter here too. “Sweet-potato man,” eh? That’s a good one. Suits him, all right. [Sounds of whispering.] Ah—it seems he’s gone out on his motorcycle to get some cigarettes. He should be right back. Over.
“Ask him where they found the body,” prompted the shill.
—Where’d you find the body? Over.
—As if you didn’t know. Over here, by the tangerine grove entrance, of course. If you won’t get rid of it for me, I’ll have no choice but to go to the police. In which case, like it or not, the entire quarry will be the focus of a police investigation. I’d like to avoid that as much as you. Put my son back on the line, would you? I assume he’s still there, listening. It’s high time we had a reconciliation, son. You’ve got the wrong idea about me. If it’s the way I punished you when you were a kid that bothers you, I want you to know that I did it solely out of fatherly love. If that incident had ended up in family court, the shame would have followed you for the rest of your life. Then and now, I have only your best interests at heart… . You’re there, aren’t you, son? Try to understand. And as for that business about trampling my wife to death, it’s a damned lie. What do you say, shall we make a deal? We
are
father and son, after all. Let’s team up and do something really big. Besides, I’ve changed. Mellowed. And I’m not getting any younger. Over.
Shoving my way between the insect dealer and the shill, I stuck my face up to the transmitter and yelled:
—Quit the father-son baloney. It gives me the willies!
—I can’t help it, it’s true. Half of your chromosomes came from my sperm. Over.
—Over and out.
—Wait. All I want is a little bit of happiness in my old age. The Broom Brigade has made a good reputation for itself, and I’d like to do more for society. I want to live a useful life. You see, I
have
changed. Over.
“Oh, why did that damn body have to butt in like this?” I muttered. I felt defeated. It had been a bad day. Every conceivable contingency had burst on me with the force of a tidal wave. It was enough to make a person believe in Friday the thirteenth, or unlucky days on the Buddhist calendar, or any such baleful influences.
The insect dealer drew the microphone close to his mouth and said quietly, in a voice suggesting strong willingness to compromise:
—I’m sorry, but could you give us a little more time? Over.
—I hate to repeat myself, but I want to patch things up with my son. It’s only human nature. I’m human too, after all. Over.
“What do you think?” The insect dealer switched the set off and sighed.
“There really isn’t any choice, is there?” The shill turned toward me, speaking rapidly. “Isn’t that right? If you don’t want to get on the wrong side of the Broom Brigade, you’ve got no choice but to go ahead and dispose of that body. If the real culprit would only turn up, there’d be nothing to fear… . That’s it, we’ve got to come on strong there. Because if the captain didn’t do it, then the murderer must be one of
them.”
“Not necessarily,” said the insect dealer. “I believe the captain too. But that doesn’t guarantee they haven’t tampered with the evidence. Even supposing it’s all fake, if they did a good job we can’t let down our guard.”
“Are there really only two entrances to this cave?” asked the girl. She rested her knee on the chaise longue, thereby shifting her weight so that our bodies were no longer pressed together. “Couldn’t some other outfit be camped out somewhere
else
in here?”
“It’s awfully hard to imagine,” I said. I had no proof to justify ruling it out. With the rapidity of a high-speed printer, I flipped mentally through the surveying maps stored in my memory. Certainly there were large areas of the cave that I had not yet attempted to map or explore—I had in mind especially those old excavations midway down the eastern cliff, like settings for rock-carved Buddhas. But no tunnel connected them to the interior. The ground there was dry, and the quality of the rock poor; presumably they were trial borings that had been summarily abandoned. To the best of my knowledge, there had been no indications of human comings and goings anywhere, except at the tangerine grove entrance. I added, “And there’s been absolutely no sign of anything… .”
“Once you start letting your suspicions grow, there’s no drawing a line,” said the shill. “Based purely on circumstantial evidence, I’m a prime suspect myself.” Covering his mouth, he giggled in a way I found unbecoming and unsavory. “You have only my word that I let some suspicious character get away; there’s no proof. Maybe I killed him, and I’ve just been putting on an act all this time. Seeing is believing, isn’t it? I think we should go on over and see for ourselves.”
“We’ve got to draw the line somewhere. We’re just groping around in circles.” The insect dealer put the radio back on the shelf, clasped his hands, and cracked his knuckles. “In a case like this, all the conjecture and speculation in the world won’t get you anywhere. We’ve got to analyze the situation according to the facts at hand, and map out our strategy. Right? At the moment there are two issues facing us. One is the handling of the body, if it
is
a body. The other is the proposal from the Broom Brigade, or from their leader, Inototsu, concerning management participation.”
“Hold on,” I interrupted. “Quit taking the discussion in your own hands, will you?” By the barest fraction of an inch, taking care not to be observed, I nudged closer to the girl. The difference was so slight that I could not tell for sure whether or not our bodies were again touching.
“Don’t worry,” he said. Perspiration made his glasses slide down his nose. “As captain, your word is final; that goes without saying. I was only trying to clarify our situation. In other words, those two issues—the body’s disposal and Inototsu’s proposal—have to be dealt with separately. Otherwise you play into his hands. He’s trying to use the body as bait for his deal, and you mustn’t fall for it. Isn’t that so?”
The buzzer sounded again.
“That makes sense.” The girl nodded briskly; the vibrations conveyed themselves to my buttocks. “They are separate issues. But supposing we turned down his offer of a merger—isn’t it possible that he’d refuse to hand over the body?”
“That’s right,” I said. “Somehow we’ve got to find his weak spot.” Boldly I edged over another tiny fraction of an inch.
“Nothing could be easier,” said the insect dealer, wiping his glasses on the tail of his shirt. “Leave the bargaining to me. My tongue has gotten me through many a tight spot before. It’d be a cinch.”
Somehow it had become established that either the insect dealer or the shill, or both, would represent me in the negotiations. I did not fully trust either one of them, and yet it was a welcome development. For one thing, I doubted my ability to confront Inototsu on an equal basis; for another, if the two of them went away, I’d be alone with the girl.
“But it’s so disgusting.” Disgust rolled around on her tongue like a taffy. “The toilet won’t be fit to use anymore once we stuff a body down it, will it?”
“Don’t worry,” I said, “there’s no blood.” It was a lie. Even when I had flushed away the cat’s body, let alone the aborted fetuses, it had been a while before I could bring myself to come near the toilet again. Once I forced myself to urinate there, and ended up vomiting. It was four or five days before I could begin fixing meals near there again. The only reason I was so calm now was that I still didn’t take seriously the existence of this “body.”
The buzzer went on screaming at us.
“Okay?” The insect dealer looked at each of us in turn. The shill and the girl gazed at me.
“Okay,” I said, “but I must insist you stick to the matter of the corpse. Whatever happens, I’m not letting Inototsu on board.”
The insect dealer flicked the radio back on.
—Hello. Sorry to keep you waiting. This is Komono, the liaison man. Do you read me? Over.
—Come in, come in. What took so long? Over.
—We’ve decided to consider your overture. But we can’t settle on a fee until we’ve had a look at the body in question, and hear a detailed report about its place of discovery, condition at the time, and so on. Where would you like to meet? Over.
—Wait just a minute. You’ve got it all wrong. I’m doing you a favor by not reporting to the authorities. Over.
—Call off your bluff, Inototsu. We’ve got this whole conversation on tape from the very beginning. And as the first person to come upon the dead body, you not only failed to report it to the police but plotted to dispose of it illegally. Wouldn’t that be a little tough to explain? Over.
The shill tilted his head and wet his lips. “Did you hear that? He
is
good, the son of a gun. I’ll be damned.”
Apparently it worked; for no reason, Inototsu began to laugh.
—All right, all right—this is no time to quibble. I’ll meet you anywhere. I’ll go there, if you want. It’s fine with me. I’ve got a pickup at my disposal right now. Over.
“No! Don’t let him near here!” I said.
“Why not?” The insect dealer covered the microphone with his hand. “Aren’t you being a little paranoid? Of course it s up to you… .”
“He’s got us outnumbered, and the Broom Brigade is a paramilitary force,” I said. “What if they should attack?”
“If being outnumbered is the problem, it’s more dangerous for
us
to go
there,”
said the shill, adding in a thin wheedle, “If they take us hostage, will you come rescue us, Captain?”
The insect dealer spoke into the microphone. —Well, that’s the picture… . You heard, didn’t you? Nobody trusts you. Over.
—Great. Well, then, how about someplace more neutral? I know … Laughter Hill. Nobody’ll see us there. Ask my son, he’ll tell you. Over.
“What’s that? Laughter what?” Leaving the radio switched to reception, the insect dealer turned to ask me.
“Hill. Laughter Hill. It’s an out-of-the-way place along the coast,” I told him.
“Funny name.”
“You go south from the station until you come to the Fishermen’s Union warehouse, and then turn. There’s a sea cave nearby, and depending on which way the wind blows, sometimes it makes a peculiar noise. Doesn’t sound like laughter so much as it does a sniveling child with a bad cold. Quite unpleasant. But some people find it amusing, and laugh themselves silly when they hear it. Geriatric patients fighting off depression take bag lunches to the foot of the hill, and sit there just waiting for the wind to blow.”
“How funny! It makes me laugh just hearing about it.” The girl giggled, and twisted her body in such a way that her abdomen pressed like a softball into my buttocks. I in turn moved so as to expand our shared space (the area where her flesh melted into mine). No adverse reaction. I felt myself about to forget that I was a pig. As long as Inototsu stayed away, I didn’t give a damn where the talks were held.
“Count me out,” said the shill, flicking the radio off with a fingernail. “Once you get there you’ll find nothing in sight but a dead body, and then all of a sudden the cops—no, thanks.”
“You’ve got a point.” The insect dealer switched the radio back on.
—Sorry, no go. None of us has enough nerve. The last thing we want is to get there and find nothing in sight but a dead body, and then suddenly have cops crawling all over us. Over.
—What? Would I play a dirty trick like that? Don’t be preposterous. Remember, I’m the one who’s devoted to cleaning up this town. Not just trash and empty cans, either—my real aim is a cleansing of the spirit. Nowadays it’s essential—purifying the people themselves. I’m serious. I share your concerns from the bottom of my heart, and I want to join hands with you. What can I do to make you believe me? Over.
—Tell me this. You’ve already made a fair amount of money from advance ticket sales. Isn’t that so?
—I told you I was recruiting people, in some very influential circles, too. You’re welcome to supervise the whole operation, from members’ roster to accounts. Over.
“He’s crazy,” I said. “When it comes time for the ark to set off, all the status and assets in the world won’t be worth jack shit. And anyway, nobody accepts applications for boarding this ark but me.”
—Hello. For now we’ll limit the discussion to the question of the body. Still, you’ve got yourself a definite problem: how are you going to win our trust? Is that the best you can do? Over.
—Why am I so unpopular, anyway? I just don’t get it. Over.
“It’s because you never take a bath!” I yelled from next to the mike.
—What do you mean? For anybody engaged in sanitation work, taking baths is a duty—and plain common sense besides. The only times I don’t take a bath are when I’m stone drunk. Bad for the heart. Over.
The girl began to laugh, her body chafing against mine with a hypnotic rhythm. I’ve never undergone hypnosis, but that must be what it’s like: the flow of time disappears and “now” takes off alone, flitting capriciously here and there.
—For someone so generally disliked, you have an honest way about you. Shall I tell you what you could have said to allay our fears? There
is
something. Do you want to hear it? Over.
—Yes. Over.
—You should have said, “Try to think more like a real baddie. A real baddie wouldn’t go to all these ridiculous lengths. He’d just haul the body over without a second thought, and dump it down from the overpass onto that pile of trash. Then you’d
have
to get rid of it, like it or not.” Right? Over.
—You’re right. My son is lucky to have a shrewd thinker like you for a friend. Is he listening? See, son, I’m not such a bad guy, after all. I can’t help the way I look. All right, then, is Laughter Hill all right? Over.
—No, let’s make it your office. That’s near where the body was found, isn’t it? Over.
—You tell me. Anyway, you’re more than welcome. I’ve got drinks here, and all kinds of stuff to eat. If you want, I’ll send somebody over to the beach entrance to pick you up. Now just don’t spoil it by saying this will be a one-time visit. Over.
—Sorry, but that’s just what it will be. When the body’s out of the way, we’ll have no more business with each other, right? What time shall we make it? Over.
—Who’s coming? How many in all? Over.
—Two. Me, that’s the liaison man, and the purser. You remember him. He said hello awhile back. Over.
—Isn’t my son coming? Over.
—The captain? No. Out of the question. Over.
—Why? Over.
—Why else has he got a liaison man? This is my job. Over.
—Listen, I’m all alone here. That really has nothing to do with it, but—won’t you please let me talk to him? You see if you can get through to him, will you? Just two or three minutes would be enough. Please. Over.
“Well, what do you say?”
“Never mind that. What’s happened to Sengoku?”
—He wants to know where the sweet-potato man is. Over.
—That’s funny; I guess he’s still not back.
I spoke up.
—If that body turns out to be his, I’ll never forgive you, you know that? He was one decent guy. He was one person I really thought I could work with.
—Don’t get carried away. The man’s in perfect health. I’m fond of him myself. You know what he’s always saying? “Time to start over, time to wipe the slate clean. Serves ’em right, the bastards… . ” I know just how he feels, too. It
is
time to wipe the slate clean and start afresh, sort out the ones who deserve to survive from all the ones who don’t. There—isn’t that it? Over.
—Isn’t what what? Over.
—Isn’t that the way you figure it too? We think alike, I’m telling you. Over.
The insect dealer interrupted. —What time shall we meet? Over.
—Just listen for a minute. When the apocalypse comes, deciding who ought to live and who might as well die will be no easy matter. Isn’t that so? What sort of yardstick are you planning on using?
“What a joke,” I snorted. “Who does he think he is, preaching to people?”
—I’m not preaching. This happened just awhile back, at the spring athletic meet of the local junior high school. They had a strange event called Survival Game. A contest to pick out the real survivors. Seems to have been the brainchild of some wise men who got together to decide how to use the underground air-raid shelter in the new city hall building. Shall I go on? Over.
The insect dealer looked my way to check my reaction. I refrained from issuing any objections. It weighed heavily on me to learn Inototsu had connections in that part of town.
—Keep it short, please. Over.
—Okay, I’ll just cover the main points. As part of the fortieth-anniversary celebrations for the local junior high school, they had a contest to judge who was qualified to survive. From the day before, there was a front stalled just off the coast, and that morning it was drizzling; but the weather reports were encouraging, and they didn’t want to waste all the money and effort that had gone into the preparations for the event—you know, preparing the athletic fields and the decorations and all—and this survival game was a major attraction from the start. How’m I doing? Shall I keep going? Over.
—Fine. Yes. Over.