Nine years, to be precise, he continued, lighting up himself. Or is it eight? Anyhow, its wonderful to see you alive and well. What a joy to meet old friends! Especially after such a brutal war. Don't you agree? And how did you manage to get out of that well?
I just stood there, saying nothing.
All right, then, never mind. The important thing is that you did get out. And then you lost a hand somewhere. And then you learned to speak such fluent Russian! Wonderful, wonderful. You can always make do without a hand. What matters most is that you're alive.
Not by choice, I replied.
Boris laughed aloud. You're such an interesting fellow, Lieutenant Mamiya. You would choose not to live, and yet here you are, very much alive. Yes, a truly interesting fellow. But I am not so easily fooled. No ordinary man could have escaped from that deep well by himself- escaped and found his way back across the river to Manchuria. But don't worry. I wont tell anyone.
Enough about you, though. Let me tell you about myself. As you can see, I lost my former position and am now a mere prisoner in a concentration camp. But I do not intend to stay here on the edge of the earth forever, breaking rocks with a sledgehammer. I am as powerful as ever back at Party Central, and I am using that power to increase my power here day by day. And so I will tell you in all frankness that I want to have good relations with you Japanese prisoners of war. Finally, the productivity of this mine depends on you men- on your numbers and your hard work. We can accomplish nothing if we ignore your power, and that includes your own individual power, Lieutenant Mamiya. I want you to lend me some of what you have. You are a former intelligence officer of the Kwantung Army and a very brave man. You speak fluent Russian. If you would act as my liaison, I am in a position to do favors for yourself and your comrades. This is not a bad deal that I am offering you.
I have never been a spy, I declared, and I have no intention of becoming one now.
I am not asking you to become a spy, Boris said, as if to calm me down. All I'm saying is that I can make things easier for your people. I'm offering to improve relations, and I want you to be the go-between. Together, we can knock that shit-eating Georgian politburo son of a bitch out of his chair. I can do it, don't kid yourself. I'm sure you Japanese hate his guts. Once we get rid of him, you people will be able to have partial autonomy, you can form committees, you can run your own organization. Then at least you'll be able to stop the guards from dishing out brutal treatment anytime they like. That's what you've all been hoping for, isn't it?
Boris was right about that. We had been appealing to the camp authorities about these matters for a long time, and they would always turn us down flat.
And what do you want in return? I asked.
Almost nothing, he said, with a big smile, holding both arms out. All I am looking for is close, friendly relations with you Japanese prisoners of war. I want to eliminate a few of my party comrades, my tovarishes, with whom it seems I am unable to achieve any understanding, and I need your peoples cooperation to accomplish that. We have many interests in common, so why don't we join hands for our mutual benefit? What is it the Americans say? Give-and-take? If you cooperate with me, I wont do anything to your disadvantage. I have no tricks up my sleeve. I know, of course, that I am in no position to ask you to like me. You and I share some unpleasant memories, to be sure. But appearances aside, I am a man of honor. I always keep my promises. So why don't we let bygones be bygones?
Take a few days, think about my offer, and let me have a firm reply. I believe its worth a try. You men have nothing to lose, don't you agree? Now, make sure you mention this only to people you are absolutely sure you can trust. A few of your men are informers working with the politburo member. Make sure they don't catch wind of this. Things could turn sour if they found out. My power here is still somewhat limited.
I went back to my area and took one man aside to discuss Boris' offer. This fellow had been a lieutenant colonel in the army. He was a tough man with a sharp mind. Commander of a unit that had shut itself up in a Khingan Mountain fortress and refused to raise the white flag even after Japans surrender, he was now the unofficial leader of the camps Japanese prisoners of war, a force the Russians had to reckon with. Concealing the incident with Yamamoto on the banks of the Khalkha, I told him that Boris had been a high-ranking officer in the secret police and explained his offer. The colonel seemed interested in the idea of eliminating the present politburo member and securing some autonomy for the Japanese prisoners of war. I stressed that Boris was a cold-blooded and dangerous man, a past master of deceit and trickery who could not be taken at face value. You may be right, said the colonel, but so is our politburo friend: we have nothing to lose. And he was right. If something came out of the deal, it couldn't make things any worse for us than they already were, I thought. But I couldn't have been more wrong. Hell has no true bottom.
A few days later, I was able to arrange a private meeting between the colonel and Boris in a place away from prying eyes. I acted as interpreter. A secret pact resulted from their thirty- minute discussion, and the two shook hands. I have no way of knowing exactly what happened after that. The two avoided direct contact so as not to attract attention, and instead they seem to have engaged in a constant exchange of coded messages using some kind of secret means of communication. This ended my role as intermediary. Which was fine with me. If possible, I wanted nothing more to do with Boris. Only later would I realize that such a thing was anything but possible.
As Boris had promised, about a month later, Party Central removed the Georgian politburo member from office and sent a new member to take his place two days after that.
Another two days went by, and three Japanese prisoners of war were strangled during the night. They were found hanging from beams to make the deaths look like suicides, but these were clearly lynchings carried out by other Japanese. The three must have been the informers Boris had mentioned. There was never any investigation. By then, Boris practically had the camp in the palm of his hand.
31 The Bat Vanishes
THE THIEVING MAGPIE Returns
Wearing a sweater and my pea coat, wool hat pulled down low almost to my eyes, I scaled the back wall and lowered myself into the alley. The sun would not be up for a while, and people were still asleep. I padded my way down the alley to the Residence.
Inside, the house was just as I had left it six days earlier, complete with dirty dishes in the sink. I found no written messages and nothing on the answering machine. The computer screen in Cinnamon's room was is cold and dead as before. The heat pump was keeping the place at normal room temperature. I took off my coat and gloves, then boiled water and made myself some tea. I had a few crackers and cheese for breakfast, washed the dishes in the sink, and put them away. Nine o'clock came again, with no sign of Cinnamon.
I went out to the yard, took the cover off the well, and leaned over to look inside. There was the same dense darkness. I knew the well now as if it were an extension of my own body: its darkness, its smell, and its quiet were part of me. In a sense, I knew the well better than I knew Kumiko. Her memory was still fresh, of course. If I closed my eyes, I could bring back the details of her voice, her face, her body, the way she moved. I had lived in the same house with her for six years, after all. But still, I felt there were things about her that I could not bring back so clearly. Or perhaps I simply could not be sure that what I was remembering was correct-just as I could not recall precisely the curve in the tail of the cat when he came back.