The Ends of the Earth (8 page)

‘Yes. I am.’

‘What are you asking this Fujisaki to do for us, sir?’ asked Sam.

‘As much as he can. Now, the friend I spoke to? He is Professor Nishikawa Hideoto. We were students together. He teaches at Tokyo University. At least, he teaches there when he does not have something better to do. He is …
fugawari na hito
. He does not … play the game.’

‘Is that good?’

‘It is good for you, Mr Twentyman. And for your friend, Miss Hollander. Nishikawa-sensei is the only man I know who will enjoy keeping a secret such as this. If he believed you were plotting against the government, probably he would congratulate you. His house is in Sendagi, north of the university. You will be safe with him for a while. I will order a car to drive you there now, Mr Twentyman. We will collect Miss Hollander tonight, when it is dark.’ Yamanaka said something to Chiyoko in Japanese, to which she nodded her assent. ‘It is settled, then.’

‘All this is very kind of you, I’m sure, Mr Yamanaka,’ said Sam, ‘but we can’t just hide in your friend’s house.’

‘For the present, you must.’

‘What about Schools and the other two?’

‘I hope Commissioner Fujisaki can do something. But they will not be set free. It has gone too far. A man is dead.’

‘Killed by Lewis Everett. I’d be happy to sign a statement saying that.’

‘Again I believe you, Mr Twentyman.’ Yamanaka looked pityingly at Sam. ‘But no one else will. I am deeply sorry. What you came to Japan to do you will not be able to do. Count Tomura is too strong for you. He is too strong for all of us. That is the truth. And you must accept it.’

MORAHAN, WARD AND
Djabsu had eaten and drunk nothing for more than twelve hours when they were taken from the cage, chained hand and foot, and led to separate rooms along a corridor off the chamber they had been held in overnight.

Morahan did not delude himself about what lay ahead. Mikanagi required confessions and would relish doing whatever was needed to extract them. But confessions to complicity in a plot to assassinate the Prime Minister guaranteed they would be executed. Morahan had emphasized the point to Ward and Djabsu during the long, hot, thirsty night.

‘Whatever they do to you, don’t give them what they want,’ had been his parting remark when the guards came to fetch them.

As he was well aware, however, that was much easier said than carried through. The windowless cell he was marched into contained a low table long and wide enough to accommodate a spreadeagled man and furnished with sinister gutters and drainage holes that fed into a runnel in the floor. There were hooks in the ceiling at several points and the peeling walls were stained with blood and excrement. A foul smell lingered in the stale air, along with the silent echo of screams uttered by other men who had been led into this room.

The guards fastened his wrist-chain to one of the hooks in the ceiling, then tore off the thin cotton
yukata
he had been given to wear, leaving him naked. His arms were stretched so far above his head that he was standing on his toes to spare his wrists. But this, he knew, was a minor discomfort compared with what was to come.

Mikanagi entered with the air of a man looking forward to his day’s work. He had removed his tunic but was still wearing his cap. He was carrying a long bamboo cane. And his hands were gloved. That last detail struck Morahan as particularly ominous.

‘How did you sleep, Morahan?’ he asked, with no hint of irony.

‘Like a babe.’

‘Have you decided to confess?’

‘I was raised a Protestant. It’s a Catholic you’d want for confession.’

‘You think being funny is the same as being brave?’

‘Maybe it’s possible to be both.’

‘Not for long. And we have as long as we need.’ Mikanagi flexed the cane and prodded him in the stomach with it. ‘You are old, Morahan. You are not as strong as you were.’ He moved the cane lower and pushed it against Morahan’s genitals. ‘You are not even as strong as you think you are.’

‘We’ll see.’

‘Yes. We will. And the other two – Ward and Djabsu – will hear.’ Morahan did not doubt that. Sound would carry well in the bare stone corridor and they were only a few cells away. ‘They will hear you beg me to let you sign a confession.’

‘You think they’ll hear that?’

‘I know they will. Now, are you willing to confess?’

‘Guess.’

The morning passed in an agony of inactivity for Malory. She could not leave the tatami-matted rear room of the Shimizus’ tenement and she had to make as little noise as possible for fear of attracting a neighbour’s attention. Mrs Shimizu played her part doggedly, but made it clear by her scowling expression that she considered her daughter’s behaviour madly imprudent. And Malory strongly suspected she still hated her for breaking her son’s heart – or for engaging his affections in the first place.

The scowl lifted only once, when she noticed Malory’s embarrassment at being supplied with a chamber-pot to spare her risking a visit to the communal latrine behind the building. Their proximity and their complicity were otherwise unbearable for both.

But borne they had to be.

On Yamanaka’s advice, Sam spent much of the car journey from the rear entrance of the Home Ministry to Professor Nishikawa’s house in Sendagi crouched out of sight. He consequently had little idea of where in relation to the centre of Tokyo the house was, although it was certainly some way off. Stillness and silence were the dominant features of the residence, a large, traditional Japanese house of carved wood and paper walls and narrow corridors and tatami-matted expanses of quietude.

Dispossessed of his shoes and supplied with ill-fitting slippers by a mute manservant, Sam was briefly received by Nishikawa in his book-crammed study. The Professor was a stooped, hawk-nosed little man with a grey beard and an air of distraction, clad in a kimono speckled with ink stains around the sleeves. ‘You are welcome, Mr Twentyman. Stay as long as you need to. But, please, do not disturb me.’

Sam had the impression when he left the study that he had just had the longest conversation with Nishikawa he was ever likely to. The manservant popped up and led him to the bathroom, where the floor-sunk tub was full and waiting for him. Sam could not deny he probably needed a bath.

He gingerly removed the bandage from his head before climbing in. He could not find a mirror, but there was no fresh blood, which he took as a good sign.

He was drying himself after the bath when the manservant’s wife – or so he assumed she was – appeared in the room, ignored his flusterings and applied a fresh and rather smaller bandage to his wound. ‘
Kurushi?
’ she asked several times. The word sounded a little like excruciating. He shook his head and smiled, which seemed to satisfy her.

Professor Nishikawa had one room in his house furnished in Western style, with table and armchairs. There Sam was served a meal of grilled eel and noodles. Afterwards he sat out on the verandah. The garden of clipped trees and ornamental ponds was a restful sight, but Sam felt only a gnawing anxiety.

‘
You should never have left home, Sam, my boy
,’ he could imagine his mother saying. And for once he would have had to agree with her.

Chiyoko’s return to the tenement on Fukagawa was a relief to both Malory and Mrs Shimizu. There was a whispered conversation between mother and daughter – with an argumentative edge to it – before Chiyoko entered the room where Malory was waiting.

‘Is there good news?’ Malory asked at once, for Chiyoko looked slightly less sombre than when she had left.

‘There is some, Miss Hollander. And there may be more to come.’

Morahan lay chained to the table, face down, his legs and arms stretched taut. He was breathing shallowly and gingerly after repeated beatings with the cane. The pain he felt was both general and specific, beating to its own pounding rhythm in his head and his lungs and his limbs.

Mikanagi had alternated between insisting Morahan confess to plotting against Prime Minister Hara’s life and demanding he reveal where Malory Hollander and Sam Twentyman might be hiding. Morahan had held his tongue on both counts. So far.

‘Tell me, Morahan,’ said Mikanagi, appearing above him, ‘is Miss Hollander your woman?’

‘She’s no one’s woman.’

‘I do not believe you. She is yours. But you will be no use to her when I have finished with you.’

There was a dimming of the light. Morahan’s chains were loosened and the guards pulled him over on to his back before tightening them again. He heard something being plugged into one of the overhead lamp sockets. A few seconds later, an electric shock coursed through his genitals. His back arched with the pain.

‘That was just a few seconds,’ said Mikanagi, stooping close to his ear. ‘Longer and your flesh will begin to burn. You want that, Morahan? You want—’

He broke off at the sound of the door opening. There was an exchange in Japanese with someone who entered. The exchange grew heated. The newcomer stepped into Morahan’s field of vision. He wore Kempeitai uniform and looked older than Mikanagi. He handed Mikanagi a piece of paper, then glanced down at Morahan. ‘
Amerika-jin
,’ he said, in a fatalistic tone.

There was nothing fatalistic about Mikanagi’s response to whatever the document was. He glared at the newcomer and gabbled some angry words, then stalked out of the room.

‘What’s going on?’ asked Morahan.

The newcomer ignored him. He said something to the guards, then left.

Nothing happened for a moment. Then the guards moved to either end of the table and began to release the chains.

MALORY FINALLY LEFT
the tenement at ten o’clock that night. Chiyoko walked with her to the street, where the car promised by Yamanaka was waiting. Malory had already thanked Chiyoko profusely for her help, but it was unclear if they would meet again and she felt the moment of parting keenly. The car drove away towards the river. A tram passed between it and the receding figure of Chiyoko. When Malory looked again, she was gone.

Her reunion with Sam at Professor Nishikawa’s house was ambivalent for both of them. If Schools had been there, they could have congratulated each other on a narrow escape. As it was, they were free, at least for the time being, but Schools was not. They regretted Ward’s and Djabsu’s incarceration as well, but it was Schools they truly missed.

There were grounds for hope, though, according to Chiyoko. Commissioner Fujisaki had said he would do all he could. ‘He is not frightened of Kempeitai,’ Chiyoko had said of him. ‘He will try to help.’

Yamanaka arrived shortly before midnight. He cut a less dapper and dignified figure than when Sam had visited him in his office. A long day of discreet and difficult negotiations had left him worn and weary. He eagerly accepted a glass of
shochu
from their host and suggested Malory and Sam should join him.

‘You will be pleased to know,’ he announced, ‘that Commissioner Fujisaki has arranged for Mr Morahan, Mr Ward and Mr Djabsu to be transferred from Kempeitai custody to normal police custody. They are being held at Sugamo prison, charged with the murder of Jack Farngold. There is no other charge – nothing concerning a plot to assassinate the Prime Minister. The prison is run harshly but correctly. There will be no torture – no forced confessions. This is very good for your friends.’

‘How did Commissioner Fujisaki achieve this?’ asked Malory.

‘Like you, Miss Hollander, your friends are American citizens. If the US Embassy learnt three of its citizens were being mistreated by the Kempeitai, there would be protests at the highest level. It is only twenty years since all British and American citizens were exempt from Japanese law. In Commissioner Fujisaki’s opinion, this Kempeitai operation was arranged by Count Tomura without the approval of the Justice Ministry. Difficult questions would be asked if your friends remained in the hands of the Kempeitai.’

‘But they’re still charged with murder?’ put in Sam.

‘Yes, Mr Twentyman. They are. It is
dakyo
– a compromise. The police will investigate the case against them and the US Embassy will be notified of their arrest. The investigation will take many weeks – or months. In the end, they will be released without a trial. Commissioner Fujisaki believes Count Tomura left Paris before the end of the peace conference because he has urgent business – political business – to conduct here in Tokyo and that, once he has dealt with it, he will allow your friends to be deported quietly.’

‘Don’t think we’re not grateful, Yamanaka-san,’ said Malory, ‘but is this the best we can do for them?’

‘Commissioner Fujisaki has probably saved their lives, Miss Hollander. I am sorry their freedom will take so long to achieve, but I am certain this is the best for them. The
dakyo
has been agreed and must be respected. As for you and Mr Twentyman …’

Sam looked at Malory, then at Yamanaka. ‘Yes, what about us?’

‘You will be arrested on the same charge of murder if the police catch you. I advise you not to let that happen. Commissioner Fujisaki can delay the investigation for a few days. You should leave Japan as soon as you can.’

‘Leave?’ Malory shook her head. ‘We can’t abandon Schools and the other two.’

‘You must. You cannot hide here – or anywhere else – for long. If you stay, they will find you. Then you will go to prison also. What good would that do, Miss Hollander?’

She pondered the question for a long, silent moment, then said quietly, ‘None.’

‘I have arranged for you to leave Yokohama tomorrow evening on a Dutch freighter bound for Shanghai.’

‘You want us to run away?’ asked Sam despairingly.

With a solemn nod Yamanaka acknowledged that he did. ‘It is what I advise.’

The night was hot and humid. A soft rain was falling like a murmur in the garden. After Yamanaka had left, Malory and Sam stood out on the verandah, smoking cigarettes. For a while, they did not speak. Then Sam said, ‘We should never have come to Japan, should we?’

‘It seems not,’ Malory admitted.

‘It’s all been for nothing. Max’s attempt to nail Lemmer. Our long journey here. Now Schools and Grover and Gazda are stuck in the clink. And we’re going to be smuggled out of the country like two barrels of contraband.’