Zen Attitude (29 page)

The van rolled to a stop. Wajin came around to open my door.

“May I take off the mask? I’m feeling really sick.” I wanted to know where he’d brought us.

“Yes, it is difficult to breathe in this heat.” Mr. Ishida sounded feeble.

“The darkness will help you concentrate. Rei had trouble concentrating on her Zen meditation today, I noticed.” Wajin’s hands slipped under my armpits and hauled me out. “You’ve left bloodstains all over the seat!”

“Yes, I’m losing a lot of blood. I’m very faint. . . .” I decided to play things up, but all he did was twist my arm behind my back and march me out of the van, not caring that I lost my shoes on the way.

“Watch your head,” he said just as my forehead bumped something hard. We were going into a cave, I judged by the damp air. As I walked slowly, nudged along by him, I remembered the cave where Horin-ji’s monks had been buried from the thirteenth through sixteenth centuries, the place where Akemi had warned me not to go.

“Sit.” Wajin let go of my arm and I leaned against the damp cave wall, using it for support as I slid down to the rocky ground. I didn’t think we were in very far. In fact, I had counted exactly fifty-two steps taken from the entrance. If I could get rid of my blindfold, I might be able to figure out an exit.

Wajin went to get Mr. Ishida. I listened to the echo of his brisk footsteps heading out. Time stretched, and I began counting a slow dripping sound. I counted one hundred, then two hundred. The pain in my tightly tied wrists slowly evaporated into numbness. Why hadn’t Wajin brought Mr. Ishida back? What was going on outside the cave?

After a long time Wajin came back. This time his breathing was rising and falling. I prayed for a diabetic seizure to take him, but he continued slowly toward me. I listened for a second set of footsteps, but heard nothing.

“Ishida-san?” I called. When there was no answer, I whispered, “Where is he?”

Wajin crouched down next to me, bringing with him the scent of incense. He laughed softly. “The old man is in the next world. If you don’t watch out, I’ll send you there as well.”

“You killed him?” I recalled Mr. Ishida rolling against me in the car, the two of us silent with terror. I wished I had spoken to him, told him that I loved him and would never forgive myself for bringing him to Horin-ji.

“Yes, the old man was no use to me. Not like you.”

I heard the chugging sound of a car coming up the mountain and said, “The police must be here. I left a message about our destination.”

“You’re lying. You didn’t contact the police, because you didn’t want anyone knowing about the fact you’ve stolen our scroll.”

“I had no interest in the scroll. I didn’t even know it existed until a day ago—”

“Then why don’t you give it up to me? Make everything much simpler?”

“You killed my friend. If I tell you where the scroll is, you’ll do the same to me.” I spoke loudly, hoping to alert whoever was outside the cave about the danger within. If the person was a tourist, he might retreat down the mountain to seek help.

“Think about how you’d like to die, Rei. Quickly or slowly. Mercifully or in great pain.” Wajin made some rustling sounds, and his voice was farther away when he spoke again. “I’m going to have to leave you for a short time to attend to my duties. But do not worry about being alone. Someone you know will be looking after you.”

Footsteps were echoing toward us; they came slowly, making me think the person was not familiar with the cave.

“We’re here,” Wajin called.

I heard the sound of someone tripping, and a male voice swore in Japanese. Finally the footsteps entered our chamber and stopped. The darkness before my eyes lessened, so I guessed the man had brought a flashlight with him.

“She’s still alive?”

Jun Kuroi. I recognized the voice.

“I saved her for you.” Wajin laughed nastily. “Knowing the friendship you two share, I thought you might convince her to tell you where the scroll is. Then you’ll call me, and I’ll retrieve it. Don’t waste time. By sunset, I expect everything to be taken care of.”

“Yes,” Jun said.

“This is the end, Rei. I won’t tell you
sayonara
because I don’t expect to see you alive again.” Wajin kicked my hip before walking away.

Jun didn’t speak to me directly until we’d heard a car start up outside the cave. “I’m sorry. I suppose you know everything.”

I had looked for links between the Mihori and Ideta families, but I had never thought of the car salesman from Hita. I wanted to look into Jun’s eyes, to decide for myself whether he was really my enemy. In a weak voice, I asked him to take off my blindfold.

“No. I would be ashamed to have you see me.”

“Don’t be modest, Jun. You’re good at what you do,” I told him. “You killed Nao Sakai and brought his body to Tokyo and used me to fake the discovery of the body. When you tried to get me to meet you in Ueno the other day—it was to get the scroll and then kill me, wasn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so,” Jun said. “You must understand that I had nothing against Nao Sakai. But he tried to get away, and my brother would have had my head if I let him.”

“I didn’t know you were brothers,” I said, trying to hide the despair I felt at my friend’s utter transformation. “I thought Wajin was some relative of Nana Mihori’s.”

“We were family until an agent for the Mihoris came looking for a boy of the right age to train for the temple.” Jun sounded bitter. “Kazuhito was twelve, working as an altar boy during the weekend at our village temple, and the priests all thought he showed signs of promise. He loved prayer, Buddhist calligraphy, and art, all the things you can take time to learn about when you are too weak to play school sports. He also has a certain look . . . his eyes and nose are similar to Akemi’s, did you ever notice? Hita is far away from Kamakura, so it was not likely that anyone could guess he was not truly a Mihori.”

“Why would your parents ever agree to such a thing? To give up a child they loved . . .”

“The Mihoris convinced them that Kazuhito would live the rest of his life as a well-respected and wealthy man. They paid my parents a lot of money, enough for my father to buy his own car dealership. And my mother even decided to live with the Mihoris so she could watch over Kazuhito. She’s the housekeeper. Everyone calls her Tanaka, which is her maiden name.”

I thought about Miss Tanaka’s perpetual sour face. What would it have been like to give up your husband and younger child to live with people who had appropriated your elder son’s every success for themselves? Would it be enough to make you want to steal from them?

“Who wanted the scroll?” I asked.

“Kazuhito and Akemi were introduced to the temple’s art collection when they were teenagers. The Mitsuhiro scroll was the greatest treasure, and Kazuhito was told he would be responsible for sharing it with the public for one week every year. He admired the scroll, and Akemi acted very possessive toward it. Two years ago, my brother looked at the scroll and decided something was wrong. The paper did not have exactly the same flaws. He suspected the original had been taken by Akemi or her mother, because everyone knows that when he takes over, they will no longer have property or wealth—especially since Akemi’s judo career failed,” Jun added contemptuously. “My brother searched the Mihori house without luck, and then he began thinking that Akemi or her mother would have taken the scroll to a safe place. And what place is more secure than Nana’s family home in Denen-Chofu, which is already full of antiques? Even if the scroll was tucked away in a drawer, it would be assumed to be part of the family collection.”

Listening to Jun’s story, I could see how Wajin cleverly anticipated people’s reactions and molded them for his purposes. I had once thought Wajin had supernatural qualities of touch and hearing. I was beginning to think now that his gift was being attuned to how people would react. The bruise under my eye had probably already faded by the time that Wajin had touched it and seemed to wipe it away, but I didn’t know that because there was no mirror in the teahouse.

“My brother showed me a slide photograph of the scroll and instructed me to search for it. I was selling cars by then, so it was easy for me to make a house call. When I was invited inside the Ideta house, I saw the scroll hanging downstairs. Probably Nana had not told her sister how valuable it was.”

“Ah! So you took it?”

“Of course not—I would be the first suspect. Kazuhito thought we should wait a year before I returned, to ensure there would be no memory of the visiting car dealer.”

“All this energy and secrecy just to return the scroll to Horin-ji? I can’t believe his dedication to the temple.”

“He is not dedicated. What kind of a priest orders murder?” Jun sounded outraged. “He was planning to beat Akemi at her secret plan and sell the scroll to a private buyer. With that money, he could leave the temple and start a new life.”

There was a noise outside the cave, the sound of a tree branch breaking. I thought of calling for help, but decided that if I was wrong about someone being outside, I would have blown my fragile connection with Jun. I remained quiet, and Jun kept talking.

“Then we had a crisis. Nomu Ideta, the old man I mentioned, went downstairs for a family party, and he saw the scroll. He recognized the seals as Mitsuhiro’s and screamed at his sister Haru about leaving the treasure exposed to humid air. He put the scroll away for safekeeping and wouldn’t tell her where it was.” Jun sighed. “Then Haru began selling antiques to help with family finances.”

“You thought you might lose the scroll,” I said. “So you recruited Nao Sakai to approach Haru about taking on the
tansu.”

“That’s right,” said Jun, sounding surprised.

“All you had to do was wait for me to buy the chest, and then, when the chest was delivered, you would remove the scroll inside. But it didn’t work.”

“No. The delivery guys we asked Sakai to use turned out to be fools. Instead of taking the
tansu
to Kamakura so we could search it, they brought it to the address on the delivery slip—your apartment. They telephoned my brother, who told them to search it as best they could, and get out of there fast. They couldn’t figure out the false bottom, and they banged up the metalwork and had to replace a nail.”

“I was jabbed by that nail!” So I hadn’t made a bad examination and missed the nail. The
tansu
had been tampered with after I’d bought it.

“Kazuhito knew that many
tansu
had secret places within, so he was convinced he could still find the scroll if he could get to the chest before Nana Mihori. But you were the problem, hanging on to the
tansu
and trying to find out where it came from.”

“When I located Nomu Ideta, it scared your brother enough to kill him.”

“We’re partners,” Jun said soberly. “Each of us has killed one person.”

“But he initiated everything,” I said. “It’s time you stop obeying your brother and go to the police! I’ll help you!”

Jun stood up quickly, and I felt our intimacy start to evaporate. “You try to squeeze out of everything. You stopped answering the telephone, you didn’t come to Ueno Park, and you escaped my arrows and you avoided the snake. But I’ve got you now. And if you don’t tell me where the scroll is, I’m supposed to do horrible things. Kazuhito left a punishment stick, and there are matches here, I could set you on fire if I wanted—”

“How can you say that? We had some good times together,” I pleaded.

“Yeah, you thought I was a fun guy. Great car, great clothes. Well, I don’t look very handsome today.”

“The story doesn’t have to end this way, Jun. Untie me and take me down the mountain.”

“I killed a person. If I don’t do what Kazuhito wants, he will tell the police. He is a priest, so they will believe everything he says. I’m just the young punk brother.”

Just like Angus, who ran all the faster toward trouble because his older brother was a success. How stupid it had been for me to spend so much time angry. I had resented Angus for the most selfish of reasons: I couldn’t stand to see myself supplanted. And now I’d never see either Glendinning again.

“You’re not a punk,” I told Jun. “You could be a hero.”

“Do you realize you’re supposed to be telling me where the scroll is? My brother is going to be done with the foreigners’ orientation very shortly and he will return expecting the answer. If not, he’ll make me torture you in front of him.”

His mention of Wajin’s departure sparked something in my memory. Wajin had to have taken Jun’s vehicle downhill, because when the ignition started, it didn’t have the ancient rattle of Mr. Ishida’s Town Ace van. That meant Mr. Ishida’s van might still be around.

“I suppose Mr. Ishida’s body is already in the van,” I said.

“Who?”

“An old man who was my friend. Your brother kidnapped both of us from the temple and as soon as we got up to the cave, he killed Mr. Ishida.”

Jun made a sound of disgust. “Where’s the body?”

“I was blindfolded and stuck in here while it happened, but I know it was done outside. It would mean a great deal to me if you could tell me how he was killed. I feel terrible, having brought him here.”

“The van’s probably starting to stink,” Jun said, the practical car salesman coming out of hiding. “I’d better check if a window’s open. Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

When I heard Jun’s footsteps fade, I started trying to work off the ropes around my wrists. There was no way for the ropes to pass over the widest part of my hands. I stopped fumbling when I heard Jun return.

“He didn’t put him in there. Where else could the old man be?”

Jun was asking me to help him do his dirty job. I was tempted to say something nasty about that, but I stopped myself. It would be to my advantage to send him on a wild-goose chase.

“Hmmm,” I said, trying to sound thoughtful. “I did hear a strange noise before Waijin returned to me.”

“What’s that?”

“Footsteps, and then something dragging. Yes, your brother must have moved Mr. Ishida’s body to one of the interior caves.”

“Maybe he wanted to leave it there,” Jun said.