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to Mrs. Fukada and was told that she couldn’t come to the phone either. I couldn’t
speak with either of them.”
“Did you tell the person on the phone that you had Eri with you?”
The Professor shook his head. “No, I had a feeling I’d better keep quiet about that
as long as I couldn’t tell Fukada directly. Of course after that I tried to get in touch
with him any number of times, using every means at my disposal, but nothing
worked.”
Tengo knit his brow. “You mean to say you haven’t been able to contact her
parents even once in seven years?”
The Professor nodded. “Not once. Seven years without a word.”
“And her parents never once tried to find their daughter’s whereabouts in seven
years?”
“I know, it’s absolutely baffling. The Fukadas loved and treasured Eri more than
anything. And if Eri was going to go to someone for help, this was the only possible
place. Both Fukada and his wife had cut
their ties with their families, and Eri grew up
without knowing either set of grandparents. We’re the only people she could come to.
Her parents had even told her this is where she should come if anything ever
happened to them. In spite of that, I haven’t heard a word. It’s unthinkable.”
Tengo asked, “Didn’t you say before that Sakigake was an open commune?”
“I did indeed. Sakigake had functioned consistently as an open commune since its
founding, but shortly before Eri escaped it had begun moving gradually toward a
policy of confinement from the outside. I first became aware of this when I started
hearing less frequently from Fukada. He had always been a faithful correspondent,
sending me long letters about goings-on in the commune or his current thoughts and
feelings. At some point they just stopped coming, and my letters were never
answered. I tried calling, but they would never put him on the phone. And the few
times they did, we had only the briefest, most limited conversations. Fukada’s
remarks were brusque, as if he was aware that someone was listening to us.”
The Professor clasped his hands on his knees.
“I went out to Sakigake a few times myself. I needed to talk to Fukada about Eri,
and since neither
letters nor phone calls worked, the only thing left for me to do was
to go directly to the place. But they wouldn’t let me into the compound. Far from it—
they chased me away from the gate. Nothing I said had any effect on them. By then
they had built a high fence around the entire compound, and all outsiders were sent
packing.
“There was no way to tell from the outside what was happening in the commune. If
it were Akebono, I could see the need for secrecy. They were aiming for armed
revolution, and they had a lot to hide. But Sakigake was peacefully running an
organic farm, and they had always adopted a consistently friendly posture toward the
outside world, which was why the locals liked them. But
the place had since become
an absolute fortress. The attitude and even the facial expressions of the people inside
had totally changed. The local people were just as stymied as I was by the change in
Sakigake. I was worried sick that something terrible had happened to Fukada and his
wife, but all I could do was take Eri under my wing. Since then, seven years have
gone by, with the situation as murky as ever.”
“You mean, you don’t even know if Fukada is alive?” Tengo asked.
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“Not even that much,” the Professor said with a nod. “I have no way of knowing.
I’d rather not think the worst, but I haven’t heard a word from Fukada in seven years.
Under ordinary circumstances, that would be unthinkable. I can only imagine that
something has happened to them.” He lowered his voice. “Maybe they’re being held
in there against their will. Or possibly it’s even worse than that.”
“ ‘Even worse’?”
“I’m saying that not even the worst possibility can be excluded. Sakigake is no
longer a peaceful farming community.”
“Do you think the Sakigake group has started to move in a dangerous direction?”
“I do. The locals tell me that the number of people going in and out of there is
much larger than it used to be. Cars are constantly coming and going, most of them
with Tokyo
license plates, and a lot of them are big luxury sedans you don’t often see
in the country. The number of people in the commune has also suddenly increased, it
seems. So has the number of buildings and facilities, too, all fully equipped. They’re
increasingly aggressive about buying up the surrounding land at low prices, and
bringing in tractors and excavation equipment and concrete mixers and such. They
still do farming, which is probably their most important source of income. The
Sakigake brand of vegetables is better known than ever, and the commune is shipping
them directly to restaurants that capitalize on their use of natural ingredients. They
also have contractual agreements with high-quality supermarkets. Their profits must
have been rising all the while, but in parallel with that, they have apparently also been
making
steady progress in
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