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Tengo won’t be coming
, she thought. The sky was covered from one end to the
other with thick clouds, blocking out the moon. Still she would probably go out onto
the balcony, a hot cup of cocoa in hand, and watch the playground. She would keep
binoculars and the pistol nearby, wear something decent enough so that she could
quickly run outside, and gaze at the slide in the rain. This was the only meaningful act
she could undertake.
At three p.m., someone at the entrance of the building rang her bell. Aomame ignored
it. It wasn’t possible that anyone would be visiting her. She had the kettle on for tea,
but to be on the safe side she switched off the gas and listened. The bell rang three or
four times and then was silent.
About five minutes later a bell rang again. This time it was the doorbell to her
apartment. Now someone was inside the building, right outside her door. The person
may have followed a resident inside, or else had rung somebody else’s bell and talked
their way in. Aomame kept perfectly still.
If somebody comes, don’t answer
, Tamaru
had instructed her.
Set the dead bolt and don’t make a sound
.
The doorbell must have rung ten times. A little too persistent for a salesman—they
usually give up at three rings. As she held her breath, the person began to knock on
the door with his fist. It wasn’t that loud a sound, but she could sense the irritation
behind it. “Miss Takai,” a low, middle-aged man’s voice said. A slightly hoarse voice.
“Miss Takai. Can you please answer the door?”
Takai was the fake name on the mailbox.
“Miss Takai, I know this isn’t a good time, but I would like to see you. Please.”
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The man paused for a moment, waiting for a response. When there was none, he
knocked on the door again, this time a little louder.
“I know you’re inside, Miss Takai, so let’s cut to the chase and open the door. I
know you’re in there and can hear me.”
Aomame picked up the automatic pistol from the table and clicked off the safety.
She wrapped the pistol in a towel and held it by the grip.
She had no idea who this could be, nor what he could possibly want. His anger
seemed directed at her—why, she had no clue—and he was determined to get her to
open the door. Needless to say, in her present position this was the last thing she
wanted.
The knocking finally stopped and the man’s voice echoed again in the hallway.
“Miss Takai, I am here to collect your NHK fee. That’s right, good old NHK. I
know you’re at home. No matter how much you try to stay quiet, I can tell. Working
this job for so many years, I know when someone is really out, and when they’re just
pretending. Even when a person tries to stay very quiet, there are still signs he’s there.
People breathe, their hearts beat, their stomachs continue to digest food. Miss Takai, I
know you’re in there, and that you’re waiting for me to give up and leave. You’re not
planning to open the door or answer me. Because you don’t want to pay the
subscription fee.”
The man’s voice was louder than it needed to be, and it reverberated down the
hallway of the building. That was his intention—calling out the person’s name so
loudly that it would make them feel ridiculed and embarrassed. And so it would be a
warning to all the neighbors. Aomame kept perfectly silent. She wasn’t about to
respond. She put the pistol back on the table. Just to be sure, though, she kept the
safety off. The man could just be pretending to be an NHK fee collector. Seated at the
dining table, she stared at the front door.
She wanted to stealthily pad over to the door, look through the peephole, and check
out what kind of person he was. But she was glued to the chair. Better not do anything
unnecessary—after a while he would give up and leave.
The man, however, seemed ready to deliver an entire lecture.
“Miss Takai, let’s not play hide and seek anymore, okay? I’m not doing this
because I like to. Even I have a busy schedule. Miss Takai, I know you watch TV.
And everyone who watches TV, without exception, has to pay the NHK subscription
fee. You may not like it, but that’s the law. Not paying the fee is the same as stealing,
Miss Takai, you don’t want to be treated as a thief because of something as petty as
this, do you? This is a fancy building you live in, and I don’t think you will have any
trouble paying the fee. Right? Hearing me proclaim this to the world can’t be much
fun for you.”
Normally Aomame wouldn’t care if an NHK fee collector was making a racket
like this. But right now she was in hiding, trying to keep out of sight. She didn’t want
anything to attract the attention of other residents. But there was nothing she could do
about it. She had to keep still and wait until he went away.
“I know I’m repeating myself, Miss Takai, but I am sure you’re in there, listening
to me. And you’re thinking this: Why, of all places, did you have to choose
my
apartment to stand outside of? I wonder, too, Miss Takai. It’s probably because I
don’t like people pretending not to be at home. Pretending not to be at home is just a
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temporary solution, isn’t it? I want you to open the door and tell me to my face that
you don’t have any intention of paying the NHK fee. You would feel much better, and
so would I. That would leave some room for discussion. Pretending to be out is not
the way to go. It’s like a pitiful little rat hiding in the dark. It only sneaks out when
people aren’t around. What a miserable way to live your life.”
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