smaller than Malory’s memory of it. Beyond the tiny shop, overflowing with stock, was an even tinier kitchen and another room, the door to which was closed.
‘We must be very quiet,’ Chiyoko whispered. ‘ Haha is sleeping.’ So, her mother was still alive. Chiyoko looked slightly younger than her age in the lamplight, however disappointed she might be by what life had allotted to her. ‘Why are you here?’
‘I’m in trouble. There’s no one else I can ask for help.’
‘You said you would never return to Japan.’
‘I never intended to. I’m sorry. I have no right to ask you for anything. I’m desperate, Chiyoko. Tell me to go and I will. But what will happen to me then … I don’t know.’
‘How can a person like you be in trouble? You are American.’
‘That means nothing. I came to Japan with friends, also American. They’ve been arrested by the Secret Police.’
‘Not possible.’
‘It’s happened. And they’re looking for me.’
‘Kempeitai? Looking for you? I cannot believe this.’
‘You must. I’m telling you the truth, Chiyoko. I’ve done nothing wrong except take a stand against a cruel and ruthless man.’
‘What man?’
Mentioning Lemmer would require too much explanation. But his Japanese partner in crime was a different matter. She might well have heard of him. ‘Count Tomura.’
Chiyoko did not respond at first. A look of amazement crept across her face. ‘Count Tomura?’
‘You know him?’
‘Has someone told you what happened to Junzaburo … after you left?’
‘No. But when I met Count Tomura recently, in Paris—’
‘You met him?’
Suddenly, the door from the other room slid open. Chiyoko’s mother, a little bird-like old woman, stared out. If she was surprised to see Malory, there was no hint of it in her voice. ‘ Hollander-san ,’ she murmured.
Chiyoko engaged her mother in urgent, whispered conversation. Mrs Shimizu frowned suspiciously throughout. Malory could not follow the exchanges, but noted Chiyoko’s frequent instruction. ‘ Nete. ’ Go to bed. Eventually, Mrs Shimizu obliged, after a parting glare at Malory.
‘You look tired, Miss Hollander,’ said Chiyoko, returning her attention to Malory. ‘And worried.’
‘I’m both.’
‘Because you and your friends have become enemies of Count Tomura?’
‘Yes.’
‘How did that happen?’
‘Do you want me to explain? Once I do, you will know things it may be dangerous for you to know.’
‘Things about Count Tomura?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I want to know them. He is my enemy also.’
SAM WOKE TO a dull ache in his head and a general sensation of disorientation. For a moment he was unsure if he was in Paris or Walthamstow. Then he remembered he was actually in Tokyo.
It was dawn, as he could discern by the grey light seeping through the shutters at the windows and the fine mesh of a mosquito net. He was in bed in a large dormitory. Other men were sleeping in the beds around him. The patching together of his memory of the previous night soon enabled him to deduce he was in hospital. His head was bandaged, the bandage low enough to restrict the vision from his right eye.
Experimentally, he flexed his limbs, then pulled himself up on the pillow. The pain in his head was not a great deal worse than a Bass hangover. He must have been brought to the hospital after collapsing on the train. But there were no policemen sitting at the end of the bed, so he could only suppose no one knew who he was. Fortunately, he had left his passport at the Eastbourne Hotel, so they would have had no way of identifying him.
Consciousness brought little in the way of consolation. Malory had probably been arrested, along with Ward and Djabsu. Max was dead. Schools was in custody. The game was up.
Except that Sam himself had still not been apprehended. And he intended to spite Lemmer and Tomura by staying at liberty as long as he possibly could. If he could find any way of freeing his friends or
‘We must be very quiet,’ Chiyoko whispered. ‘ Haha is sleeping.’ So, her mother was still alive. Chiyoko looked slightly younger than her age in the lamplight, however disappointed she might be by what life had allotted to her. ‘Why are you here?’
‘I’m in trouble. There’s no one else I can ask for help.’
‘You said you would never return to Japan.’
‘I never intended to. I’m sorry. I have no right to ask you for anything. I’m desperate, Chiyoko. Tell me to go and I will. But what will happen to me then … I don’t know.’
‘How can a person like you be in trouble? You are American.’
‘That means nothing. I came to Japan with friends, also American. They’ve been arrested by the Secret Police.’
‘Not possible.’
‘It’s happened. And they’re looking for me.’
‘Kempeitai? Looking for you? I cannot believe this.’
‘You must. I’m telling you the truth, Chiyoko. I’ve done nothing wrong except take a stand against a cruel and ruthless man.’
‘What man?’
Mentioning Lemmer would require too much explanation. But his Japanese partner in crime was a different matter. She might well have heard of him. ‘Count Tomura.’
Chiyoko did not respond at first. A look of amazement crept across her face. ‘Count Tomura?’
‘You know him?’
‘Has someone told you what happened to Junzaburo … after you left?’
‘No. But when I met Count Tomura recently, in Paris—’
‘You met him?’
Suddenly, the door from the other room slid open. Chiyoko’s mother, a little bird-like old woman, stared out. If she was surprised to see Malory, there was no hint of it in her voice. ‘ Hollander-san ,’ she murmured.
Chiyoko engaged her mother in urgent, whispered conversation. Mrs Shimizu frowned suspiciously throughout. Malory could not follow the exchanges, but noted Chiyoko’s frequent instruction. ‘ Nete. ’ Go to bed. Eventually, Mrs Shimizu obliged, after a parting glare at Malory.
‘You look tired, Miss Hollander,’ said Chiyoko, returning her attention to Malory. ‘And worried.’
‘I’m both.’
‘Because you and your friends have become enemies of Count Tomura?’
‘Yes.’
‘How did that happen?’
‘Do you want me to explain? Once I do, you will know things it may be dangerous for you to know.’
‘Things about Count Tomura?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I want to know them. He is my enemy also.’
SAM WOKE TO a dull ache in his head and a general sensation of disorientation. For a moment he was unsure if he was in Paris or Walthamstow. Then he remembered he was actually in Tokyo.
It was dawn, as he could discern by the grey light seeping through the shutters at the windows and the fine mesh of a mosquito net. He was in bed in a large dormitory. Other men were sleeping in the beds around him. The patching together of his memory of the previous night soon enabled him to deduce he was in hospital. His head was bandaged, the bandage low enough to restrict the vision from his right eye.
Experimentally, he flexed his limbs, then pulled himself up on the pillow. The pain in his head was not a great deal worse than a Bass hangover. He must have been brought to the hospital after collapsing on the train. But there were no policemen sitting at the end of the bed, so he could only suppose no one knew who he was. Fortunately, he had left his passport at the Eastbourne Hotel, so they would have had no way of identifying him.
Consciousness brought little in the way of consolation. Malory had probably been arrested, along with Ward and Djabsu. Max was dead. Schools was in custody. The game was up.
Except that Sam himself had still not been apprehended. And he intended to spite Lemmer and Tomura by staying at liberty as long as he possibly could. If he could find any way of freeing his friends or
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