‘Tokyo? Is that so? I’ve never been to the mainland. We get a lot of holidaymakers from Tokyo. Though not off-season, like now. You can see for yourself, we’re almost empty. I only go to the main island once a year, to visit my grandchildren. I have fourteen grandchildren, you know. Of course, when I say “main island”, I mean the main island of Okinawa, not mainland Japan. I’d never dream of going there!’
‘Really.’
‘They tell me Tokyo’s very big. Bigger even than Naha. A department head? Your mother and father must be so proud! My, that’s grand. I’ve got to ask you to fill out these dratted forms, you know. I wouldn’t bother with it myself but my daughter makes me do it. It’s all to do with licences and tax. It’s a real nuisance. Still. And how long will you be with us on Kumejima, Mr Tokunaga?’
‘I intend to stay a couple of weeks.’
‘Is that so? My, I hope you’ll find enough to do. We’re not a very big island, you know. You can go fishing, or go surfing, or go snorkelling, or scuba-diving... but apart from that, life is very quiet, here. Very slow. Not like Tokyo, I imagine. Won’t your wife be missing you?’
‘No.’ Time to shut her up. ‘The truth is, I’m here on compassionate leave. My wife passed away last month. Cancer.’
The old crone’s face fell, and her hand covered her mouth. Her voice fell to a whisper. ‘Oh, my. Is that so? Oh, my. There I go, putting my foot in it again. My daughter would be so ashamed. I don’t know what to say—’ She kept wheezing apologetically, which was doubly irksome as her breath reeked of prawns.
‘Not to worry. When she passed away, she was finally released from the pain. It was a cruel release, but it was a release. Please don’t be embarrassed. I am a little tired, though. Would you show me to my room?’
‘Yes, of course... Here are your slippers, and I’ll just show you the bathroom... This is the dining room. Come this way, you poor, poor, man... Oh my, what you must have been through... But you’ve come to the right island. Kumejima is wonderful place for healing. I’ve always believed so...’
After my evening cleansing I felt fatigue that no amount of alpha refocusing could dispel. Cursing my weakness, I went to bed and sank into a sleep that was almost bottomless.
The bottom was in a tunnel. A deserted metro tunnel, with rails and service pipes. My job was to patrol it, and guard it from the evil that lived down there. A superior officer walked up to me. ‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded.
‘Obeying orders, sir.’
‘Which are?’
‘Patrolling this tunnel, sir.’
He whistled between his teeth. ‘As usual, a muddle at Sanctuary. There’s a new threat down here. The evil can only consume you when it knows about you. If you maintain your anonymity, all will be well. Now, officer. Give me your name.’
‘Quasar, sir.’
‘And your name from your old life? Your real name?’
‘Tanaka. Keisuke Tanaka.’
‘What is your alpha quotient, Keisuke Tanaka?’
‘16.9.’
‘Place of birth?’
Suddenly, I realise that I have walked into a trap! The evil is my superior officer, ploughing me with questions so it can consume me. My last defence is not to let it know that I have caught on. I am still floundering when a new character walks down the tunnel towards us. She is carrying a viola case and some flowers, and I’ve seen her before somewhere. Someone from my uncleansed days. The evil that is in the guise of my superior officer turns to her and starts the same ruse. ‘Haven’t you heard about the evil? Who authorised your presence here? Give me your name, address, occupation — immediately!’
I want to save her. Lacking a plan, I grab her arm and we run, faster than air currents.
‘Why are we running?’
A foreign woman on a hill, watching a wooden pole sinking into the ground.
‘I’m sorry! I didn’t have time to explain! That officer wasn’t a real officer. It was a disguise. It was the evil that lives in these tunnels!’
‘You must be mistaken!’
‘Yeah? And how would you know?’
As we run, our fingers lock together, I look at her face for the first time. Sidelong, she is smiling, waiting for me to get this most grisly of jokes. I am looking into the real face of evil.
I set off early the next morning to walk around the island. The sea was milky turquoise. The sand was white, hot and yielding. I saw birds I’d never seen before, and salmon-pink butterflies. I saw two lovers and a husky dog walking down the beach. The boy kept whispering things to the girl, and she kept laughing. The dog wanted them to throw the stick, but was too stupid to realise that first he’d have to give the stick back to one of them. As they passed I noticed neither of them wore wedding rings. I bought a couple of riceballs for lunch in a little flyblown shop, and a can of cold tea. I ate them sitting on a grave, wondering when it was that I last belonged anywhere. I mean apart from Sanctuary. I passed an ancient camphor tree, and a field where a goat was tethered. Fieldworkers’ radios played tinny pop music that drifted down to the road. They sweltered under wide, woven hats. Cars rusted away in lay-bys, vegetation growing up out of the radiators. There was a lighthouse on a lonely headland. I walked to it. It was padlocked.
A sugar-cane farmer pulled up by the roadside and offered me a lift. I was footsore, so I accepted. His dialect was so heavy I could barely make out what he was trying to say. He started off talking about the weather, to which I made all the right noises. Then he started talking about me. He knew which inn I was staying at, and how long I was staying, my false name, my job. He even gave his condolences for my dead wife. Every time he used the word ‘computer’ he sealed it in inverted commas.
Back at the inn, the gossip shop was open for business. The television flashed and blinked silently on the counter. On the coffee table five cups of green tea steamed. Seated around on low chairs were a man who I guessed was a fisherman, a woman in dungarees who sat like a man, a thin woman with thin lips, and a man with a huge wart wobbling from one eyebrow like a bunch of grapes.
The old woman who ran the inn was clearly holding court. ‘I still remember the television pictures on the day it happened. All those poor, poor people stumbling out, holding handkerchiefs to their mouths... a nightmare! Welcome back, Mr Tokunaga. Were you in Tokyo during the attack?’
‘No. I was in Yokohama on business.’
I scanned their minds for suspicion. I was safe.
The fisherman lit a cigarette. ‘What was it like the day after?’
‘It certainly took a lot of people by surprise.’
Dungaree-woman nodded and folded her arms. ‘Looks like it’s the beginning of the end for that bunch of lunatics, however.’
‘How do you mean?’ Keeping my voice steady.
The fisherman looked surprised. ‘You haven’t heard? The police have raided them. About time, too. The Fellowship’s assets have been frozen. Their so-called Minister of Defence is being charged with murder of ex-cult members, and five people have been arrested in connection with the gas. Two of those five hanged themselves in their detention cells. Their suicide notes provided enough evidence for a new round of arrests. Would you like to see my newspaper?’
I flinched from the shuffling sheets of lies. ‘No, it’s all right. But how about the Guru?’ The branches may burn in the forest fire, but new growth sprouts from the pure heart.
‘The who?’ Wartman blubbulled his rubbery nose. I wanted to kneel on his neck and cut that abomination off with a sharp pair of scissors.
‘The Leader of the Fellowship.’
‘Oh, that maggot! He’s hiding, like the coward he is!’ Wartman choked on the hatred in his voice! What a sick zoo the world has become, where angels are despised. ‘He’s a true devil, is that one. A devil from hell.’