Collector of Secrets (23 page)

AT ALMOST midnight, the stark concrete waterfront of the Takeshiba pier stood quiet and empty. Even the ever-present seagulls had tucked up their wings and gone to sleep. Office lights from the surrounding Tokyo towers cast shiny, quivering fingers across the water of the dark bay.

The last employee had switched off the pier lights and gone home after the 11:30 p.m. boat departed. The tourist vessel was on a 110-mile journey south, to the island sanctuary of Miyakejima. It would disgorge its weary passengers at precisely five the following morning.

Max circled the battered SUV around the same spot for the third time. The vehicle needed to be abandoned strategically—parked illegally, close to the pier, so the conclusion could be drawn that they had run off to the southern islands. But the parking spot couldn’t be so obvious that the police would find the deserted vehicle before the ferry arrived at its destination. An early discovery would give the authorities time to radio ahead. Failure would shatter the illusion, while success could buy them some much-needed time.

Slumped in the passenger’s seat, Tomoko sat unresponsive. She was staring at a crack that stretched the width of the front windshield. It must have started when the van was repeatedly hammering into them.

He pulled the SUV to a stop and turned off the engine.
It’s my fault,
he thought, turning toward the passenger’s seat.
She trusted me and now look at her.
“I’m so sorry about Mrs. Kanazawa. It’s wrong—all wrong.” The deadly afternoon felt fuzzy and unclear, like a distant, hazy memory that left a lingering feeling of terror. He touched her chin, guiding her pensive eyes away from the cracked glass. “Tomoko, we have to go. I need out on your side. Mine won’t open.”

Trancelike, she unlocked the door and slid out into the chilly breeze sweeping off the bay.

Max grabbed the daypack and crawled out behind her. “This should do. It won’t get noticed right away because the good side is pointed out, but once people start arriving for work, someone will spot the damage and report it for sure. Hopefully later tomorrow morning.”

She stood shivering in the wind before he pulled her toward him, guiding them away from the waterfront to the train station a half dozen blocks away. They walked in silence, his arm wrapped around her shoulder, their feet moving in rhythm. The commercial streets finally gave way to the bright lights of the approaching station.

“Tomoko, you haven’t spoken in hours. Please say something.”

Her voice cracked and she coughed. “I—I want to go home. See my mother.”

He squeezed a bit tighter, intent on remaining calm and rational for her sake. “I know you do, but it’s just not safe. Let’s find somewhere to stay tonight and talk about it tomorrow.”

“How will it be any better tomorrow? We still have the diary.” She shivered again. “What if it’s my parents who aren’t safe?”

Max’s voice edged upward. “That’s my point. Look what followed us! Mrs. Kanazawa died because we went there. I don’t want the same thing to happen to your parents. We need to be smarter. We have to stay away, at least for now. Understand?”

She half glanced at him before looking away. “I do understand, but I need to call my mother tomorrow. She’s probably crazy with worry.”

“Sure.” Max conceded for the moment while remaining convinced it was a bad idea.

“Let’s just find some place to sleep. I’m so tired . . . but I don’t want to see anybody. I look awful.” Tomoko wiped at her eyes and tried to straighten her frizzled hair.

The familiar clack of an approaching train could be heard as they headed into the station lobby, “Hurry, we can make this one,” urged Max, fumbling coins into the ticket machines as the rumbling grew louder.

Racing through the turnstiles, they wove up the stairs and through the people exiting the train, finally squeezing between the closing doors.

Max dropped into a seat. “I have an idea where we can stay.” He rubbed his throbbing ankle while carefully observing the faces of the half-dozen occupants in the train car, verifying their anonymity. “It’s not far from here, and I promise they won’t ask questions.”

T
he slender hotel looked like a handful of other six-story buildings on the narrow Meguro Street, including the glowing pink sign advertising two prices for each room, one for a “rest” and an alternative to “stay.”

Max stood alone in the muted lobby light of the undersized Chez Moi Love Hotel, which he had chosen at random from a street full of similar establishments. Upon entering, he’d waited discreetly while another couple examined the only two available rooms displayed by illuminated eight-by-ten photos set within a collection of similar but dark pictures. The
Kogal
girl eyed him briefly, then ignored him. She had streaked hair and heavy makeup, while the man beside her wore an ill-fitting suit and appeared to be intoxicated. After a round of pouting and discussion, she finally pressed a button beneath a glowing picture and helped him insert his credit card. The photo went dark, and the machine automatically dispensed a card key. A shiny elevator door opened, and they disappeared through it as the woman giggled and cooed.

Approaching the photo wall, Max pressed the button of the last remaining room and inserted his cash. While waiting for the key, curiosity got the best of him. He looked at the room that the couple had selected. The histrionic reds and the cutesy Hello Kitty theme seemed odd when compared to the S&M chains hanging from the bedroom ceiling. Tomoko would not have appreciated the bizarre room, no matter how exhausted she was.

Max stepped out the hotel’s front door and waved his arm. Looking up and down the dim street, he finally saw her appear from the shadows. She kept her head down and her arms wrapped tightly around herself while jogging the short distance. Darting into the lobby, she slipped into the open elevator. Max followed her and inserted the room key. The fifth-floor button blinked on, and they shuddered into motion.

“I told you that you wouldn’t have to see anybody.”

“
Domo arigato
.” Tomoko’s teeth chattered.

Upon exiting the elevator, it was clear which of the rooms was theirs: it was the only one with a blinking pink light above the doorway.

The brightly lit room smelled strongly of cleaning products and baby powder. Startling life-sized plaster statues of Apollo and Zeus stood on either side of a heart-shaped tub to the left. A mish-mash of fake stone, fake tiles, and fake stucco adorned the walls. Against the far wall stood a round bed surrounded by Greco-Roman columns. Sheer pink drapes cascaded between the columns, complementing the matching sheets on the round mattress. Three televisions were placed strategically about the room. Muted in sound, they all displayed the same soft-core sex scene.

Tomoko’s mouth hung open. “You’re joking.”

“This was the only room left, and believe me, it’s the most conservative by far.” He set the daypack down and turned to face her. “I was thinking a lot while we driving, and I have some things I need to explain.”

Tomoko looked defeated. “Give me a minute.” The bathroom door closed as she disappeared inside.

Max collapsed onto a dingy sofa, retrieved his soon defunct airline ticket from his pocket, and put his feet up on the faux marble coffee table. He leaned back and stared up, listening to the sound of running water as his eyes followed the path of plastic vines snaking across the ceiling. The events of the past two days settled like a lead weight. He wondered how things could go so wrong so quickly, while at the same time acknowledging gratitude that at least they were alive.

Several minutes passed before Tomoko emerged and took a spot next to him on the couch. She laid her head on his shoulder and clutched his arm.

He placed the ticket in her lap and spoke hesitantly at first, trying to figure out how to explain exactly what he had been pondering on the drive back from the Izu. “Moving someplace new and starting all over can be really tough—trust me, my family has done it enough times. But starting over fresh, coming here to Japan, was something I chose because I wanted to get more out of life—you know, learn new things and see the world from a different perspective. And along the way I discovered that being so far from home, everything feels incredibly magnified. Familiar comforts aren’t there and you don’t have your old friends or your family to lean on—the highs become way more extreme but so do the lows.”

He paused, feeling self-conscious, unsure whether there was any point continuing until he felt her squeeze his arm, encouraging him on.

“And when I found the TPH and then started teaching Mr. M, I was on a high because I finally had friends again and a chill place to live. Of course then I met you . . . and the high got even higher.” He couldn’t look at her for fear that he wouldn’t be able to finish. “And even though everything felt great, there was always this little voice in the back of my head warning me that a new low was coming. Nothing lasts forever. It’s just a matter of time, Travers—prepare yourself.” His head shook as if in denial. “And now here it is. I just can’t imagine there ever being a worse day than today.”

He held his lips against the top of her head, pausing before speaking with quiet conviction, recalling the argument outside Tony Roma’s. “So, I want you to have my return ticket because I need you to trust that I’m not going anyplace without you. We’ll get through this together.” Max could feel her nodding, knowing she understood his sincerity, and he followed the urge to sit up in order to see her face. “Would you kiss me?”

Tomoko wiped at her eyes while licking away the salty tears washing over her lips. “I’m a mess. Why would you want that?”

“Because . . .” He paused before meeting her puzzled gaze. “Because I really need it.”

She reached up abruptly and pulled his face toward her, breathing life into him.

O
h shit, they’ve found us!

Max bolted upright and tried to scan the dark room. The only sound was the pounding heartbeat in his ears; nothing else. The room was silent. He had a fleeting thought that maybe it had all just been a terrible dream. His eyes adjusted to the glimmer of hallway light sneaking in around the hotel door. The Roman Colosseum wall clock glowed 4:31 a.m.

Tomoko gently touched his shoulder and pulled him back down. She whispered in his ear, “I’m sorry for waking you, but I’ve made a decision.” She had slipped off her underwear, and her entirely naked body pressed warm against him. “I’m ready.” She kissed his lips and ran her slender fingers into his blond hair.

Max, his arousal evident, tensed briefly. After months of denial, she now seemed so sure. Was she reaching out to him because of love or fear, or both? “But you said you wanted to wait. Are you sure this is what you want? I mean—”

Tomoko held two fingers across his mouth. “No more holding back. I’m sure.” She kissed him harder this time as she flicked the waistband of his boxer shorts. He obliged by sliding them off.

His hands traveled the gentle curve of her hips. Fears that the actions, so long suppressed, would feel awkward were unfounded. The movements were instinctive and true, a dormancy finally awakened. The urge to lose himself in her became overwhelming.

He felt the softness of her belly pressing upward, and his head dropped down to cradle in the nape of her slender neck as a rising crescendo of pleasure washed against the moorings of the past day’s terror and mortality. The moment felt overwhelmingly alive.

WHENEVER MAX neared the U.S. Embassy, he could still hear the haughty drawl of a former TPH roommate. On several occasions, the pompous guy had droned on about how ironic it was that, up until 9/11, the Soviet Embassy was inhospitable and sinister, while the U.S. Embassy was a bright place with trees, flowers, and a wide-open gate flanked by pleasant, rotund guards. Not any longer. The two embassies appeared to have switched roles. There were now dozens of police in combat gear surrounding the United States’ modern ten-story Akasaka building. Riot buses were parked at every entrance. It was a dark and foreboding citadel. Demonstrations or public gatherings were banned anywhere near the grounds, and to get inside meant running a gauntlet of security. The drawn-out conclusion was that the switch between the characters of the two embassies was simply the physical manifestation of a truth that everyone knows but is afraid to admit: that America has become the shadowy invading power of a darker world. Of course, the guy had sideburns shaped like lightning bolts and a liking for pornographic
Manga
cartoons, so it was difficult for anyone to take him too seriously.