“I get it. But hey, does that mean that …”
“Right. There’s a strong possibility that that’s the case.”
So Sadako Yamamura is no longer of this world? She died, and the scenes which flitted through her mind at the moment of death had taken this shape and remained in the world of the living—was that it?
“So why did she die? And another thing, what was her relationship with the man in the last scene of the video?”
“I told you to stop asking me so many questions. There’s a lot I don’t understand about it, either.”
Asakawa looked unconvinced.
“Hey, try using your head for a change. You rely too much on other people. What would you do if something happened to me and you were stuck trying to figure out the charm all by yourself?”
That hardly seemed likely. Asakawa might die, and Ryuji might solve the riddle alone, but the opposite would never happen. Asakawa was sure of that, if of nothing else.
They went back to the “bureau” where Hayatsu was waiting for them. “You had a call from a fellow named Yoshino. He wasn’t at his office, so he said he’d call back in ten minutes.”
Asakawa sat in front of the phone and prayed for good news. The phone rang. It was Yoshino.
“I’ve been trying to call you. Where were you?” There was a note of reproach in his voice.
“Sorry about that. We went out to get a bite to eat.”
“Okay. Now, did you get my fax?” Yoshino’s tone changed. The note of criticism disappeared, and his voice became gentler. Asakawa felt something unpleasant coming.
“Yes, thanks. It was very helpful.” Asakawa switched the receiver from his left hand to his right. “And, so? Did you find out what happened to Sadako after that?” Asakawa asked enthusiastically.
There was a pause before Yoshino replied, however. “No. I hit a dead end.”
The second he heard this, Asakawa’s face crumpled as if he were about to burst into sobs. Ryuji watched as if he found it amusing to see a man’s expression turn from hope to despair before his eyes. Then he plopped himself down on the floor facing the garden and stretched his legs out in front of him.
“What do you mean, a dead end?” Asakawa’s voice had risen several notes.
“I was only able to locate four of the interns who joined the troupe with Sadako. I called them, but none of them know anything. They’re all middle-aged guys of around fifty now. All any of them could tell me was they hadn’t seen her since shortly after the death of Shigemori, the company’s representative. There’s no more information to be had about Sadako Yamamura.”
“Nonsense. This can’t be the end of it.”
“Well, how does it look on your end?”
“How does it look on my end? I’ll tell you how it looks. It looks like I’m going to die tomorrow night at ten o’clock. And not just me—my wife and daughter are going to die on Sunday morning at eleven. That’s how it looks.”
Ryuji called out from behind him, “Hey, don’t forget about me! You’ll make me feel bad.”
Asakawa ignored him and continued. “There’ve got to be other things you can try. Maybe there’s someone besides the interns who would know what happened to Sadako. Listen, my family’s lives depend on it.”
“Not necessarily, though.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Maybe you’ll still be alive after the deadline passes.”
“You don’t believe me. I get it.” Asakawa could feel the whole world go dark before his eyes.
“Well … I mean, how could I really believe a hundred percent in a story like this?”
“Now, look, Yoshino.” How should he put it? What did he need to say to convince him? “I don’t even believe the half of it myself. It’s stupid. A charm? Come on! But you see, if there’s even a one-in-six chance that it’s all true … It’s like Russian roulette. You’ve got a gun with one bullet in it, and you know that there’s only one chance in six that when you pull the trigger it’ll kill you. But could you pull that trigger? Would you risk your family on those odds? No, you wouldn’t. You’d move the muzzle away from your temple—if you could you’d throw the whole damned gun into the ocean. Right? It’s only natural.”
Asakawa was all wound up now. Behind him Ryuji was wailing, “We’re idiots! Both of us, idiots!”
“Shut up!” Asakawa shielded the receiver with the palm of his hand as he turned to yell at Ryuji.
“Something wrong?” Yoshino lowered the tone of his voice.
“No, it’s nothing. Listen, Yoshino, I’m begging you. You’re the only one I can count on.” Suddenly Ryuji grabbed Asakawa’s arm. Giving way to anger, Asakawa spun around, but when he did he saw that Ryuji was looking unexpectedly earnest.
“We’re idiots. You and I both have lost our cool,” he said, quietly.
“Could you hold on a minute?” Asakawa lowered the receiver. Then, to Ryuji, “What’s the matter?”
“It’s so simple. Why didn’t we think of it before? There’s no need to follow Sadako’s trail chronologically. Why can’t we work our way backwards? Why did it have to be cabin B-4? Why did it have to be Villa Log Cabin? Why did it have to be South Hakone Pacific Land?”
Asakawa’s expression changed in a heartbeat as he came to a realization. Then, in a much calmer mood, he picked up the receiver again.
“Yoshino?”
Yoshino was still waiting on the other end of the line.
“Yoshino, forget about the theater company lead for a while. There’s something else I urgently need you to check on. It’s just come up. I believe I’ve already told you about South Hakone Pacific Land …”
“Yeah, you did. It’s a resort club, right?”
“Right. As I recall, they built a golf course there about ten years ago, and then gradually expanded into what they are now. Now, listen, what I need you to look up is, what was there before Pacific Land?”
He could hear the scratching of pen on paper.
“What do you mean, what was there before? Probably nothing but mountain meadows.”
“You may be right. But then again, you may be wrong.”
Ryuji tugged at Asakawa’s sleeve again. “And a layout. If there was something standing on that land before the resort, tell your gentleman caller to get a map that shows the layout of the buildings and the grounds.”
Asakawa relayed the request to Yoshino and hung up the phone, willing him to come up with something, anything, by way of a lead. It was true: everybody had a little psychic power.
October 18—Thursday
The wind was a little stronger, and low white clouds raced by in the otherwise clear sky. Typhoon No. 21 had passed by the previous evening, grazing the Boso Peninsula to the northeast of Oshima before dissipating over the ocean. In its wake it left painfully dazzling blue seas. In spite of the peaceful autumn weather, as Asakawa stood on the deck of the boat watching the waves he felt like a condemned man on the eve of his execution.