Ring (14 page)

"Now, that's interesting. But if the airwaves were hijacked as you say, there should be others who saw the same thing…"

"Well, I called our bureaus in Atami and Mishima and asked about that. But they say they haven't received any reports of suspicious transmissions flying around South Hakone on the night of August 26th."

"I see, I see…" Ryuji folded his arms and thought for a while. "Two possibilities come to mind. First, everybody who saw the transmission is dead. But hold on-when it was broadcast, the charm should have been intact. So… And, anyway, the local papers haven't picked up on anything, right?"

"Right. I've already checked that out. You mean whether or not there were any other victims, right? There weren't. None at all. If it was broadcast, then other people should have seen it, but there haven't been any other victims. Not even any rumours."

"But remember when AIDS started to appear in the civilized world? At first doctors in America had no idea what was going on. All they knew was that they were seeing people die from symptoms they'd never encountered before. All they had was a suspicion of some strange disease. They only started calling it AIDS two years after it had appeared. That kind of thing happens."

The mountainous valleys west of the Tanna Ridge only contained a few scattered farmhouses, on the lower reaches of the Atami-Kannami Highway. If you gazed south, all you could see was South Hakone Pacific Land, isolated in its dreamy alpine meadows. Was something invisible at work in that land? Maybe lots of people were dying suddenly, but it just hadn't made it into the news yet. It wasn't just AIDS: Kawasaki Disease, first discovered in Japan, had been around for ten years before it was officially recognized as a new disease. It was still only a month and a half since the phantom broadcast had been accidentally caught on videotape. It was quite possible that the syndrome hadn't yet been recognized. If Asakawa hadn't discovered the common factor in four deaths-if his niece hadn't been among them- this "illness" would probably still be sleeping underground. That was even scarier. It usually took hundreds, thousands, of deaths before something was officially recognized as a "disease".

"We don't have time to go door-to-door down there talking to residents. But, Ryuji, you mentioned a second possibility."

"Right. Second, the only people who saw it are us and the four young people. Hey, do you think the grade school brat who recorded this knew that broadcast frequencies are different from region to region? What they're showing on Channel 4 in Tokyo might be broadcast on a completely different channel out in the country. A dumb kid wouldn't know that-maybe he set it to record according to the channel he watches in Tokyo."

"What are you getting at?"

"Think about it. Do people like us, who live in Tokyo, ever turn to Channel 2? It's not used here."

Ah-ha. So the boy had set the VCR to a channel a local would never have used. Since they were recording while watching something else, he hadn't actually seen what was being recorded. In any event, with the population so sparse in those mountains, there couldn't be too many viewers in the first place.

"Either way, the real question is, where did the broadcast originate from?" It sounded so simple when Ryuji said it. But only an organized, scientific investigation would be able to determine the transmission's point of origin.

"W-wait a minute. We're not even sure your basic premise is right. It's only a guess that the boy accidentally recorded phantom airwaves."

"I know that. But if we wait for hundred-percent proof before proceeding, we'll never get anywhere. This is our only lead."

Airwaves. Asakawa's knowledge of science was paltry. He didn't even really know what airwaves were: he'd have to start his investigation there. There was nothing to do but check it out. The broadcast's point of origin. That meant he'd have to go back
there.
And after today, there were only four days left.

The next question was: who had erased the charm? If they allowed that the tape had been recorded on-site, it couldn't have been anybody but the four victims. Asakawa had checked with the TV network and found out when the young storyteller, Shinraku Sanyutei, had been a guest on
The Night Show.
They'd been right. The answer that came back was August 29th. It was almost certain that the four young people had erased the charm.

Asakawa took several photocopies from his briefcase. They were photographs of Mt Mihara, on Izu Oshima Island. "What do you think?" he asked, showing them to Ryuji.

"Mt Mihara, eh? I'd say this is definitely the one."

"How can you be sure?"

"Yesterday afternoon, I asked an ethnologist at the university about Granny's dialect. He said it wasn't used much anymore, but that it was probably one found on Izu Oshima. In fact, it contained features traceable to the Sashikiji region on the southern tip of the island. He's pretty cautious, so he wouldn't swear that that was it, but combined with this photo I think we're safe in assuming that the dialect is Izu Oshima's, and the mountain is Mt Mihara. By the way, did you do any research into Mt Mihara's eruptions?"

"Of course. Since the war-and I think we're probably okay in limiting ourselves to eruptions since the war…" Considering developments in film technology, this seemed a safe assumption.

"Right."

"Now, are you with me? Since the war, Mt Mihara has erupted four times. The first time was in 1950-1951. The second was in '57, and the third was in '74. The fourth time I'm sure we both remember well: the autumn of 1986. The '57 eruption produced a new crater; one person died and fifty-three were injured."

"Considering when video cameras came out, I'd guess we're looking at the '86 eruption, but I don't think we can be sure yet."

At this point Ryuji seemed to remember something, and started rummaging around in his bag. He pulled out a slip of paper. "Oh, yes. Evidently this is what she's saying. The gentleman kindly translated it into standard Japanese for me."

Asakawa looked at the scrap of paper, on which was written:

How has your health been since then? If you spend all your time playing in the water, monsters are bound to get you. Understand? Be careful of strangers. Next year you 're going to give birth to a child. You listen to granny now, because you're just a girl. There's no need to worry about local people.

Asakawa read through it twice, carefully, and then looked up.

"What is this? What does it mean?"

"How should I know? That's what you're going to have to find out."

"We've only got four days left!"

Asakawa had too many things to do. He didn't know where to start. His nerves were on edge and he'd begun to lash out.

"Look. I've got one more day to spare than you. You're the point man on this. Act like it. Give it your all."

Suddenly misgivings began to well up in Asakawa's heart. Ryuji could abuse his extra day. If, for example, he came up with two guesses as to the nature of the charm, he could tell Asakawa about one, and wait for Asakawa's survival or death to tell him which one was right. That single day could turn into a powerful weapon.

"It doesn't really matter to you if I live or die, does it, Ryuji? Sitting there calmly like that, laughing…" Asakawa wailed, knowing as he did that he was becoming shamefully hysterical.

"You're talking like a woman now. If you've got time to bitch and whine like that you ought to use your head a bit more."

Asakawa still glared at him resentfully.

"I mean, how would you prefer I put it? You're my best friend. I don't want you to die. I'm doing my best. I want you to do your best, too. We both have to do our best, for each other. Happy now?" Midway through his speech Ryuji's tone suddenly became childish, and he finished with an obscene laugh.

As he laughed, the front door opened. Startled, Asakawa leaned over and peered through the kitchen at the entry hall. A young woman was bending over to remove a pair of white pumps. Her hair was cut short, brushing the tops of her ears, and her earrings gleamed white. She took her shoes off and raised her gaze, her eyes meeting Asakawa's.

"Oh, pardon me. I thought the Professor was alone," said the woman, covering her mouth with her hand. Her elegant body language and her pure white outfit clashed utterly with the apartment. Her legs below her skirt were slim and willowy, her face slender and intelligent; she looked like a certain female novelist who appeared in TV commercials.

"Come in." Ryuji's tone had changed. The vulgarity was concealed beneath a newfound dignity. "Allow me to introduce you. This is Miss Mai Takano from the philosophy department at Fukuzawa University. She's one of the department's star pupils, and always pays close attention in my classes. She's probably the only one who really understands my lectures. This is Kazuyuki Asakawa, from the
Daily News.
He's my… best friend."

Mai Takano looked at Asakawa with some surprise. At this point he still didn't know why she should be surprised. "Pleased to meet you," said Mai, with a thrilling little smile and bow. The kind of smile that made any onlooker feel refreshed. Asakawa had never met such a beautiful woman. The fine texture of her skin, the way her eyes glowed, the perfect balance of her figure-not to mention the intelligence, class, and kindness she radiated from within. There was literally nothing to find fault with in this woman. Asakawa shrank back like a frog from a snake. Words failed him.

"Hey, say something." Ryuji elbowed him in the ribs.

"Hello," he said finally, awkwardly, but his gaze was still transfixed.

"Professor, were you out last night?" asked Mai, gracefully sliding her stockinged feet two or three steps closer.

"Actually, Takabayashi and Yagi invited me out with them, so…"

Now that they were standing next to each other, Asakawa could see that Mai was a good ten centimetres taller than Ryuji. She probably only weighed half as much as he did, though.

"I wish you'd tell me if you're not coming home. I waited up for you."

Asakawa suddenly returned to his senses. This was the voice he'd spoken to last night. This was the woman who'd answered the phone when he'd called.

Meanwhile, Ryuji was hanging his head like a boy scolded by his mother.

"Well, never mind. I'll forgive you this time. Here, I brought you something." She held out a paper bag. "I washed your underwear for you. I was going to straighten up here, too, but you get angry when I move your books."

From this exchange Asakawa couldn't help but guess the nature of their relationship. It was obvious that they were not only teacher and student, but lovers as well. On top of that, she'd waited here alone for him last night! Were they that close? He felt the kind of annoyance he sometimes felt when he saw a badly mismatched couple, but this went far beyond that. Everything to do with Ryuji was crazy. Then there was the love in Ryuji's eyes as he gazed at Mai. He was like a chameleon, changing his expression, even his speech patterns. For an instant, Asakawa was mad enough to want to open Mai's eyes by exposing Ryuji's crimes.

"It's nearly lunchtime, Professor. Shall I fix something? Mr Asakawa, you'll be staying too, won't you? Have you any requests?"

Asakawa looked at Ryuji, uncertain how to respond.

"Don't be shy. Mai's quite the chef."

"I'll leave it up to you," Asakawa finally managed to say.

Mai immediately left for a nearby market to buy ingredients for lunch. Even after she had gone, Asakawa stared dreamily toward the door.

"Man, you look like a deer caught in the headlights of a car," said Ryuji with an amused leer.

"Oh, sorry."

"Look, we don't have time for you to space out like this." Ryuji slapped Asakawa lightly on the cheek. "We have things to talk about while she's gone."

"You haven't shown Mai the video."

"What do you think I am?"

"Okay, then. Let's get through it. I'll go after we eat."

"Right, now the first thing you have to find is the antenna."

"The antenna?"

"You know, the spot where the broadcast originated."

He couldn't afford to relax, then. On the way home he'd have to stop by the library and read up on airwaves. Part of him wanted to rush down to South Hakone now, but he knew it would be quicker in the long run to do some background reading first, to get an idea of what he was looking for. The more he knew about the characteristics of airwaves, and about how to track down pirate broadcasts, the more options he'd be able to give himself.

There was a mountain of things to be done. But now Asakawa felt distracted, his thoughts somewhere else. He couldn't get her face, her body, out of his mind. Why was Mai with a guy like Ryuji? He felt both puzzled and angry.

"Hey, are you listening to me?" Ryuji's voice brought Asakawa back down to earth. "There was a scene in the video with a baby boy, remember?"

"Yes." He chased Mai's image from his mind momentarily and recalled the vision of the newborn, covered in slippery amniotic fluid. But the transition didn't go well; he ended up imagining Mai wet and naked.

"When I saw that scene I got a strange sensation in my own hands. Almost as if I were holding that boy myself."

Sensation. Holding someone. In the arms of his imagination he was holding first Mai and then the baby boy, in blinding succession. Then, finally, he had it-the feeling he'd had watching the video, of holding the infant and then throwing both hands up in the air. Ryuji had felt the exact same sensation. This had to be significant.

"I felt it too. I definitely felt something wet and slippery."

"You too, huh? So what does it mean?"

Ryuji got down on all fours, bringing his face up close to the television screen as he replayed that scene. It lasted about two minutes, the baby boy giving his birth-cry all the while. They could see a pair of graceful hands beneath the child's head and bottom.

"Wait a minute, what's this?" Ryuji paused the video and began to advance it a frame at a time. Just for a second the screen went dark. Watching it at normal speed it was so brief as to be hardly noticeable. But watching it over and over, frame by frame, it was possible to pick out moments of total blackness.