On the Fifth Day (34 page)

But Parks was lost in thought, whispering
"The Philip

pines"
to himself like some odd, quizzical mantra. He seemed to have forgotten Thomas entirely, and when he did finally re

member his presence Thomas found himself wishing to be ig

nored.

"You really don't know anything, do you?" Parks said with something like wonder. "All that poking around in Italy, and you still know nothing. Satoh said you would be useful, but . . ."

He shook his head, like a parent whose child has disap

pointed him one time too many. Then he raised the pistol again and aimed at Thomas's face.

CHAPTER 71

For a moment Thomas saw right into the gun's barrel and he felt only weakness and defeat. As he closed his eyes, the first lines of the old prayer came to him: "Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord, Lord, hear my voice . . ." Then the deafening re

port of the gun . . .

Except that it wasn't the gun. The bang was made by the door behind him, clanging shut. Parks had gone. The relief came out unbidden.

"Thank God," he said to the empty room, unsure whether that too was a prayer, or merely an expletive. But the soft hiss of the gas heater killed his relief before it could flower. The water was approaching boiling. Parks had left him to die. He fought against his bonds, hoping that the hot water had loosened them, dissolved the glue on the tape . . . something. But nothing gave. He could barely see through the steam. He didn't know how much longer he could stay conscious. He fought to stand up, but the tape bound him too securely. He rolled as best he could and got his head under the faucet above the tub. If he could use his teeth to turn the cold-water faucet on, he might buy himself some time. As he got into po

sition he began shouting for help in English and Japanese. His shrill cries bounced around the tiled room, making him recoil, but he kept shouting.

Then the door burst open.

For a moment he thought it would be Parks, come to finish the job, but it was Kumi, followed by Jim. Without hesitating she plunged her hands into the scalding water and hauled him as far out as she could. Jim got his arms underneath him and between them they dragged him out.

"Parks." Thomas gasped.

Kumi, silent and focused as always in crisis mode, turned the cold tap onto him, while Jim used a penknife to slit the 254

A. J. Hartley

duct tape apart. Thomas sprawled on the blessedly cool tiles, barely able to speak.

Jim considered the steaming tub.

"I admire your desire to go native, Thomas," he said. "But in future, I'd stick to showers."

"On behalf of the Japanese people," said Kumi, who had sunk exhausted onto the wet floor, "I'd like to point out that the duct tape is not traditional."

CHAPTER 72

Security was tight at the excavation, and journalists were be

ing admitted only in small, guided groups and then not into the chamber proper, which was considered too fragile for non

professionals to be traipsing through. When all evidence had been gleaned from the inside of the tomb it would be opened to the public, but that could take months.

Thomas was still wearing his faked credentials, and since the guards seemed intimidated by non-Japanese documents, he was admitted to the tour without undue scrutiny. There was no sign of the New Zealander.

In fact, there was little to see outside the tomb itself, and the briefing was clearly being handled by junior staff. The burial mound had, apparently, been known for some time and had been duly fenced off. The first discovery that Watanabe and his team had made, however, when they had begun the ex

cavation three weeks ago, was that the tomb was considerably larger than had been suspected. The visible mound had turned out to be only the top of the tomb, whose actual perimeter ex

tended far beyond the fence inside which the assembled jour

nalists now stood.

The tomb, said their guide--a slight, earnest woman who introduced herself as Miss Iwamoto--had eight sides. 255

O n t h e F i f t h D a y

"As you can see," she said, "it is quite large. Each side is almost thirty meters long, though they were largely buried un

der the earth with only the top of the mound visible. Most of the Kofun tombs are distinctly keyhole-shaped, so the eightsided variety are quite rare. In the early Kofun period the body was usually buried at the top of the mound, but in later tombs like this--which date from the seventh century AD--

the body was buried in a stone-lined chamber under the mound. The chamber was accessible via a passage over here,"

she pointed, "called
yokoana
chambers. If you step this way you can see that the
yokoana
was once painted, though it is difficult to make out the subject of the painting. Watanabe

sensei
will try to determine its content in the course of his analysis."

They moved silently with her to the stone-lined opening. Work lights had been set up inside, but they were dark and only the mouth of the tomb's inner chamber was visible.

"In this case," she said, gesturing to a glass-topped display box that had been set up beside the roped-off passage, "you can see some of the ceramics that were buried with the dead man. Also found inside were mirrors, beads, a sword, and some horse equipment. These are being analyzed and are not on display. You can see some of the
haniwa
which were often found on Kofun burials, though their purpose is unclear."

The objects she pointed to were clay cylinders propped up against the walls.

"About two hundred were found on the tomb, mostly plain, but some were figures of animals and men."

"Is it true that there were animals living inside?" asked one of the journalists who had been looking thoroughly bored by all the archaeology.

Thomas expected Miss Iwamoto to be disparaging of what was obviously an attempt to Disney-fy the story, but she seemed to brighten and grow considerably younger as she replied.

"A family of
tanuki
--a Japanese animal a little like the raccoon--had been living in the main chamber," she said. 256

A. J. Hartley

They are so cute. But very mischievous animals. Watanabe

sensei
's team are hoping they have not damaged the remains."

"Where is the cross?" asked Thomas. He was losing pa

tience.

"It is being studied at Watanabe-
sensei
's laboratory. It will be put on display when tests are completed."

So what the hell am I doing here?
Thomas wondered. He turned to leave but found that the previously apathetic security guard had become very focused. On him. At his elbow was the blank-faced graduate student from the press conference. They were both coming toward him.

After the scares of Italy, Thomas was ready for anything. The worst they would do was ask him to leave. He braced himself.

"Excuse me, sir?" said the student. "Can I get your name, please?"

"Jenkins," said Thomas. "Peter Jenkins."

"What news agency are you with?" said the student, osten

tatiously scanning a clipboard of names. His English was good, his gaze level, his tone neutral.

"I'm with the
New Zealand Herald,
" said Thomas. "I left my card in the van."

Watanabe's assistant--his nametag read Tetsuya Matsuhashi--watched him unblinkingly for a second and Thomas was sure he didn't buy it.

"You don't appear to be on the list," he said. He was calm, even pleasant, but Thomas had no idea what he was thinking.

"All credentialed reporters must carry their paperwork on them at all times. I'm afraid I must ask you to leave."

Thomas shrugged. He wasn't learning anything here any

way. As he walked away from the huddled journalists and the great burial mound, the student called after him.

"And, Mr. Jenkins, the security perimeter will be more carefully restricted in future. This is a very valuable site and we don't want things going astray. I'm sure you understand."

"Sure," said Thomas. "Where is Mr. Watanabe?"

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O n t h e F i f t h D a y

"At his laboratory in the city," said Matsuhashi, but his eyes flickered toward the trailer parked beside the edge of the site. "Archaeology is not all glamour in the field. There is a lot of time spent on tedious tests."

"Tests on materials from this site?"

"Mainly," said the student, "but he is a very busy man and this is not the only site he is studying."

"Anything from overseas?" said Thomas.

Matsuhashi's face shaded. "Not usually," he said. He seemed uncertain, hesitant.

"But recently?"

"A couple of crates arrived for him some weeks ago," said Matsuhashi briskly. "For his expert opinion."

"From?"

"I don't know. Is there something on your mind, Mr . . . ?"

"Jenkins," said Thomas, smiling. "No. Just curious. Have you seen inside the crates?"

"I expect it's Kofun pottery," said Matsuhashi, his eyes steady.

"My name isn't Jenkins," Thomas blurted suddenly. "It's Knight. My brother was a priest. Did you know him?"

"Knight?" said Matsuhashi, his face glazed like a ceramic mask. "No, I did not know him. Now, if you don't mind . . ."

Thomas nodded, smiled, and walked away, sure the other man was watching him all the way out, sure also that he was lying.

When he got back to the
ryokan
he heard Jim muttering in his room and slid the paneled screen aside. The priest was squat

ting on the tatami beside a low table, on the other side of which Kumi knelt, her weight on her calves in formal Japa

nese fashion. There was a bottle of local wine beside the table and a plate of crusty bread.

"I leave you peace, my peace I give you," he was saying.

"Look not on our sins but on the faith of your church and in 258

A. J. Hartley

your mercy keep us free from sin and protect us from all anxiety . . ."

He looked up at Thomas.

"Mass," he said. "You're welcome to join us if . . ."

But Thomas was already shaking his head and sliding the door closed.

CHAPTER 73

The name on his passport was Harvey Erickson, and it identi

fied him as blind. He wore large sunglasses with heavily tinted and slightly mirrored lenses, a long copious overcoat, and equally copious facial hair. His teeth were bright and even, his hands gloved with fawn calfskin that relinquished their hold on his red-tipped white cane only when he was sitting. He had passed the flight and subsequent train ride in al

most complete stillness, ignoring flight attendants as if they were not there, speaking barely a dozen words in the last twenty-four hours, proffering tickets and identification when requested in silence. He sensed that people avoided him even with their eyes, but he liked his solitude so that was all to the good.

He didn't like Japan with its strange smells and noises, but he tapped his way along the sidewalk, listening to the way the crosswalks sang their cheery electronic prompts anchored in old melodies, until he found his way to a cheap hotel in a corner of the town cluttered with bars, pool halls, and timbered
yakitori
houses. By nightfall the streets were quiet except where dubious women lured drunken, red-faced

"salarymen" inside for the kinds of pleasures he would never experience.

That was okay too. He had other sources of amusement. 259

O n t h e F i f t h D a y

He stood in front of the bathroom mirror, minus the coat and gloves, and removed the heavy glasses with his long pale fingers, catching the way his irises contracted in the low but sudden light. Playing blind had been no great hardship, and as well as granting him a particular kind of anonymity, it had al

lowed him the darkness he preferred. He slid the wig from his bald skull and peeled away the beard, rubbing the spirit gum away as his familiar features took shape again. The cut across his scalp had closed, and most of the bruising had faded to a slightly metallic shadow.

Lastly he grimaced into the mirror, his lips pulled back from his teeth like a snarling dog, and dislodged the molded dentures, revealing the filed points of his own teeth beneath them. He flicked a pink, wet tongue and hissed at his reflec

tion with something like pleasure.

Famine was back.

CHAPTER 74

Jim was waiting in a white Toyota sedan on the road outside the dig. The press had largely drifted away, and only a few starstruck groupies remained.

"Is Watanabe here?" said Thomas.

"The girls think so," said Jim. "I suspect they would know best."

"His assistant--Matsuhashi--said he was at the lab in Kofu. Didn't want me to see him."

"I might have some idea as to why," said Jim.

"Ed came to Kofu? Oh, my prophetic soul."

"For at least two days," said Jim. "About ten days before he died. He introduced himself at the local church, ate with them, said mass at least once, stayed overnight."

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"So not exactly an undercover visit," said Thomas. "What on earth was he doing?"

"He must have come to the site."

"It seems so," said Thomas, "but there was no site then. The find wasn't made till after he died. What brought him here?"

"Got me," said Jim. "So what do we do now?"

"We wait," said Thomas. "Keep an eye open for the es

teemed archaeologist."

There was a long silence.

"Back in Chicago you said you were a missionary," said Thomas.

"So?"

"Why does America need a missionary?"

"American Catholics put too much faith in faith."

Thomas frowned.

"It's not just about what you believe," said Jim. "It's about how you act, how you live the gospel, and I don't mean in the way you police other people's morality. Ed understood that. Some priests can be great blokes while you're watching the game, but as soon as religion comes up they put their holy hats on. All they have to offer are rules and sanctimonious plati

tudes. Not Ed. He got it."