Authors: Kōbō Abe
“This one puts me over my quota for the day,” he said. “Somehow I feel as if I’ve been dreaming a long dream.”
“I don’t know—however great the water pressure may be, could you really flush a human body down this hole?” The shill stared down between his legs. “It
is
a human body, I assume.”
“It must be.” She switched on the coffeepot and wiped her hands on the shill’s shirt.
“I did flush a dead cat down there once,” I said, and purposely held my hands wide apart, exaggerating its size. “One this big, a tortoiseshell. It just popped right down.”
“A human body isn’t the same as a cat. The head alone is huge.” The insect dealer inhaled deeply on his cigarette and blew the smoke out slowly through his nostrils, as if loath to part with it. “It can’t get through anyplace narrower than the head. That’s how they space the bars in animal cages, did you know that? By matching the spaces to the size of the animal’s head.”
“Stop it—how sickening!” The girl seemed genuinely angry. “Do you intend to go through with it?”
“Certainly not. That’s the last sort of thing I’d want to get mixed up with.”
“In that case, why didn’t you come out and say so before? You sound so wishy-washy that you end by giving them an excuse.”
“An excuse for what?” asked the shill.
“Well, Sengoku said that if the captain wouldn’t enter into negotiations, they’d storm the place.”
“Starting to talk tough, eh?” The insect dealer snuffed out his cigarette on the sole of his shoe.
“They’ll come in here over
my
dead body,” I declared. “I don’t even want to talk to Inototsu. Let me make one thing clear: as long as I’m captain of this ship, he will never, ever, have boarding privileges. Even if I could fit the entire population of the world in here, I’d still keep him out in the cold. For me, survival means one thing: having
him
die.”
“I can appreciate how you feel …” The insect dealer opened his eyeglass case and took out a pair of glasses. “… but how are you going to turn him back if he does come on board? Maybe you could if he was alone, but he’s apt to come with his entire entourage.”
“In other words, the captain’s stymied.” The shill took off one shoe and began to massage the arch of his foot. “Which means it’s our turn now. All we have to do is go to the bargaining table in his place.”
“That’s right.” The girl poured coffee into the cups. “After all, Inototsu is using that Sengoku person as
his
representative. There’s no reason why the captain should have to handle this in person. Come get your coffee.”
“He’s got his representative, you’ve got yours. What could be more fair?” The shill took his cup and without warning dealt the girl’s left cheek a sudden hard slap.
“Ow!” she screamed, raising a hand to her cheek. Then she held out her hands like a magician, and smiled. “Didn’t hurt a bit.”
“A little trick I learned.” The shill passed a cup to the insect dealer and nodded. “You fit the hollow of your hand perfectly against the curve of the cheek, and make the air explode. It makes a terrific noise, with practically no pain. Perfect for making it appear you’ve bad a falling-out with your companion, and confusing the other side. Works like a charm. What do you say, isn’t that quite a trick?”
“It is indeed. Thanks to you, I’m wide awake.” The insect dealer finished polishing his glasses and put them on, reseating himself on top of his sleeping bag. “If you agree, Captain, he and I will take over the negotiations. A charlatan and a shill—now there’s a combination for you.”
“One practices deception, and the other’s taken in by it. Perfect.” She held out a coffee cup and peered up at me through her lashes. Since I was above her, she could hardly do otherwise, but I deliberately chose to read a hidden meaning into her look. If the insect dealer and the shill went out together, she and I would be alone.
“Sure,” I said, “go ahead if you want. It’s okay with me.” I descended the steps and accepted a cup of coffee. The touch of her fingertips was like cold bean curd.
“But he’s no pushover,” I warned. “Logic doesn’t get through to him. Besides, you talk about ‘negotiations,’ but my position is non-negotiable.”
The girl gave me a swift wink. I broke off. Blowing on her coffee to cool it, she said:
“Now that you’re awake, Komono, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. That bug called the eupcaccia—it moves around in a circle with its head facing the sun, while feeding on its own eliminations, isn’t that right? So when it’s dark and it goes to sleep, it’s facing west. Right?”
“I suppose so,” answered the insect dealer without enthusiasm.
“Then that’s strange. What happens when it wakes up the next morning?”
“You’re asking me? Ask the captain. He bought one, he must know.”
“Actually I never gave it any thought,” I said, “but now that you mention it, it
is
strange.”
“Not really.” The insect dealer put his glasses in the steam rising from his cup, clouding them on purpose. “Just use your head. A clock doesn’t have to have a twelve-hour dial. There
are
such things as clocks with twenty-four-hour dials. I saw one once”
“But doesn’t its head always point to the sun?”
“All it has to do is push against its dung and turn a half-circle. It all fits.”
“Brilliant.” The girl laughed, and pressed against the coffee cup, rippling the surface of the coffee. “You could make anything sound plausible. And it all comes off the top of your head—I really have to hand it to you!”
“Well, I’m afraid I can’t be much of an optimist,” I said gloomily.
“Don’t worry,” said the shill, and slurped his coffee noisily.
“That’s right. My guiding principle,” said the insect dealer, “is to think first, last, and always of your viewpoint, Captain. You’ve asked for our assistance, and we won’t let you down.”
“But this request for negotiations could be just an excuse for a skirmish, couldn’t it?” I said.
“As a former SDF man, what do you say, Komono?” One eye on my Uzi, the shill kept going through the motions of pulling the trigger. “Could we defend ourselves if we had to?”
“Well, the enemy is a bunch of old men, and amateurs to boot. Structurally this place would make a good stronghold … and besides, you’ve got five crossbows, and seven remodeled guns, right? Pretty good fighting power.”
There was an intermittent buzz—a call on the radio. All four of us stood up at once and raced to the stairs, the shill in the lead, with the insect dealer holding the girl’s hand and me pushing her by the hips (there was no need to do so, but somehow it made me feel better).
The voice that came out of the radio receiver sounded like an elephant with a cold. This time it was not Sengoku, but Inototsu.
—Hello, son, how’re you doing? It’s been a long time. This is your dad. Over.
—You’ve got one hell of a nerve. I have nothing to say to you. Period. Over and out.
—Wait. Let’s bury the past. We’re both grown men. Over.
—Impossible. Over and out.
—Listen, this is a deal you can’t afford to pass up. Over.
—Over and out, over and out.
—Listen,
will you? They’re onto me.
Suddenly the shill gripped my wrist. My fingers opened and the microphone dropped, to be passed to the insect dealer’s waiting hand. He shouldered his way up, pushing against my chest and forcing me out of the front position. That loss was more than made up for by the fact that my buttocks now pressed squarely against the girl’s abdomen.
—Hello, please continue. This is the captain’s representative. Over.
—Who the hell are you? Over.
—The name’s Komono. I’m the captain’s liaison man. Please state your business. Over.
—Liaison, huh? That’s a good one. Suppose you tell me what you
really
do. Over.
—I sell educational materials. Insect specimens, that sort of thing. Now let’s get straight to the point—who is onto you, and why? Over.
—You’re quite a character. I’m talking about the body, of course. Over.
—Yes, I understand you have some problem about a dead body. Exactly what kind of body would this be—homicide, or accidental death, or what? Over.
—How am I supposed to know? Ask my son. Over.
—Stop playing games. What’s that supposed to mean? Over.
—Just what I said. This is a body you people abandoned, after all… .
“You’re crazy!” I yelled. “I don’t know a goddamn thing about any dead body!” The radio was one-way, not adapted for integrated conversation; as long as the other person didn’t push the right button, your voice wouldn’t get through. Knowing this, I still yelled out, in reflex. The insect dealer patted me quickly on the shoulder to shush me up, and the girl pressed harder against my buttocks. Inototsu’s voice continued, oblivious.
—Of course I have no hard evidence to prove it, but there’s circumstantial evidence galore. If this gets out, it’s going to be rather awkward. You see, my garbage collection business is a responsible social service organization: any illegally discarded objects we come across, we have a legal obligation to turn in to the authorities. But I’m willing to be flexible. Why not settle this just between ourselves? My son is still there, isn’t he? You tell him not to be so stubborn. Children never understand their parents’ feelings. Son, can you hear me? I think you’ve got a very worthwhile enterprise there, and I want you to know I’m supporting you one hundred percent behind the scenes. I certainly don’t want to put you in a compromising situation. I think we can work together, help each other out. Over.
The shill called loudly from beside the mike. “What do you mean by a ‘worthwhile enterprise’? Garbage collection?”
—Save your breath. I know all about it. You’ve got a nuclear bomb shelter, right? A very promising venture. Shows great foresight. I can’t go into all the details now—that’ll have to wait till we can get together—but I’m already making some moves on my own. Signing up members. My roster has some pretty impressive names on it too. You see, I think I can help you… .
“It
is
a threat,” whispered the girl, her breath brushing the back of my earlobe.
“That dead body is a trick of some kind too, you can bet on it,” said the insect dealer.
The shill bit his lip. “Looks like he’s one jump ahead of us.”
Inototsu continued talking, aware of these interpolations.
—You’d really be surprised. Why, I’ve got city officials, the director of a credit union, two doctors at the city hospital—even the president of Hishitomi Storage has signed a contract. Very promising, this little venture—it could really go places. You’re not going to let a little thing like a body or two cramp your style, are you? That’s all I have to say. Over.
Leaving the radio switched to reception, the insect dealer stuck out his jaw, teeth clenched, and said, “Captain, are you positive you know nothing about that body?”
“Of course I am,” I answered.
Without even waiting for me to finish, the shill grabbed the microphone out of the insect dealer’s hands and pushed the switch to transmission.
—Would you mind telling us the victim’s age and cause of death? Over.
—You’re new. What’s your department? Over.
—I’m the purser. In charge of passengers’ quarters. Over.
—Cute. To answer your question, I’m no pathologist, so I haven’t any idea. Aren’t you the ones with that information? Over.
—That’s a leading question. No fair.
The shill switched off the radio and looked hard at me. “Couldn’t one of those old men have wandered in and got caught in a trap? Say he got temporarily blinded, and staggered off that cliff… .”
“But the traps were all tampered with. Knocked out. Remember?”
“Whoever it was might have started doing that
after
he had already met with some sort of accident.”
“I doubt it. Spray plastic takes a long time to harden that way.”
“As far as that goes, the body may not be fresh, either,” put in the insect dealer.
The buzzer sounded, urging the resumption of communication.
“Maybe it’s that guy I chased before.” The shill snapped his fingers. “Maybe he fell in the water and drowned. Wait a minute—that’s it. I bet it’s that fellow Sengoku.”
“No, it couldn’t be him,” said the girl, her breath again tickling my earlobe. “The captain talked to him on the radio while you were both asleep.”
“In that case, this body could be very fresh indeed,” said the insect dealer, and slowly took back the transmitter, with an air of grim determination. “The murder could have taken place after that conversation. Even now, by rights, it ought to be the sweet-potato man we were talking to. Inototsu must know the captain hates his guts.”
The buzzer kept squawking impatiently.
“That’s right,” I said. “Now that you say so, it
is
odd—because the other transmitter is in Sengoku’s store. It’s strange for Inototsu to be talking on it.”
“That’s peculiar,” said the shill. He licked his lips and swallowed. “Then was the sweet-potato man given the job of disposing of his own corpse?”
The insect dealer flicked the transmitter on.
—Wait a minute, please. We’re having a consultation.
He turned the switch back off and said, “Supposing the sweet-potato man was killed at his store. Circumstantial evidence could very well point to the captain as prime suspect. But what motive could there be?”
“None—seeing as how I didn’t do it!” I retorted.
“I mean Inototsu’s motive.”
“There’s no point in thinking about it,” said the girl. “You don’t even know for sure that the sweet-potato man was the victim.” Her hand rested lightly on my shoulder.