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If I’m already this tense, I won’t be able to do a thing when the time comes
.
Aomame closed her eyes and almost by reflex intoned a prayer, the one that she had
been taught to recite before every meal from as long ago as she could remember. That
had been a long, long time ago, but she remembered every word with perfect clarity—
O Lord in Heaven, may Thy name be praised in utmost purity for ever and ever, and
may Thy kingdom come to us. Please forgive our many sins, and bestow Thy
blessings upon our humble pathways. Amen.
However grudgingly, Aomame had to admit that this prayer, which had given her
nothing but pain in the past, now provided a source of support. The sound of the
words calmed her nerves, stopped her fears at the doorway, and helped her breathing
to quiet down. She pressed her fingers against her eyelids and repeated the prayer to
herself over and over.
. . .
“Miss Aomame, I believe,” a man said close by. It was the voice of a young man.
Aomame opened her eyes, slowly raised her head, and looked at the owner of the
voice. Two young men were standing in front of her. Both wore the same kind of dark
suit. Judging by the fabric and cut, these were not expensive clothes—probably
bought right off the rack at a discount store. They didn’t quite fit in every detail, but
they were admirably free of wrinkles. Perhaps the men pressed them every time they
put them on. Neither man wore a tie. One had his white shirt buttoned all the way to
the top, while the other wore a kind of gray crew-neck shirt under his suit jacket.
They had on the plainest black shoes possible.
The man in the white shirt must have been a good six feet tall, and he wore his hair
in a ponytail. He had long eyebrows, the ends of which turned up at a distinct angle
like a line graph. His face was serene, with well-balanced features that could have
belonged to an actor. The other man must have been five foot five and had a buzz cut
and a snub nose. A tiny beard grew at the tip of his chin like a mistakenly applied
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shadow, and there was a small scar by his right eye. Both men were slim, with sunken
cheeks and tanned faces. There was not an ounce of fat to be seen on either of them,
and judging from the spread of their suits’ shoulders there were some serious muscles
underneath. They were probably in their mid- to late twenties. The look in their eyes
was deep and sharp, and the eyeballs moved no more than necessary, as with animals
on the hunt.
As if by reflex, Aomame stood up from her chair and looked at her watch. The
hands pointed to seven o’clock exactly. Right on time.
“Yes, I am Aomame.”
Neither man displayed any expression. They did a swift examination of Aomame’s
attire and looked at the blue gym bag next to her.
“Is this all you brought with you?” Buzzcut asked.
“Yes, this is it,” Aomame said.
“That’s fine. Let’s go, then. Are you ready?” Buzzcut asked. Ponytail said nothing
as he kept his eyes on Aomame.
“Yes, of course,” Aomame said. She guessed that the shorter man was somewhat
older than the other one and the leader of the two.
Buzzcut went ahead with leisurely steps, crossing the lobby toward the elevators.
Aomame followed him, gym bag in hand. Ponytail followed about six feet behind her.
This meant she was sandwiched between them.
They know what they’re doing
, she
thought. They walked with erect posture, their gait strong and precise. The dowager
had said they both practiced karate. Aomame knew from her martial arts training that
in a face-to-face confrontation with these two, there was probably no way she could
win. But she did not sense from these men the kind of overpowering menace that
Tamaru projected. Defeating them was not entirely out of the question. The first thing
she would have to do in hand-to-hand combat would be to render Buzzcut powerless.
He called the shots. If Ponytail was her only opponent, she could manage to survive
and escape.
The three of them boarded the elevator, and Ponytail pushed the button for the
seventh floor. Buzzcut stood next to Aomame, and Ponytail stood in the corner,
facing them at an angle. They did all this wordlessly, systematically, like a second
baseman and shortstop who live to make double plays.
In the midst of such thoughts, it suddenly dawned on Aomame that her breathing
and heartbeat had returned to their normal rhythms.
Nothing to worry about
, she
thought.
I’m my usual self—the cool, tough Aomame. Everything will probably go
well. No more bad premonitions
.
The elevator door opened soundlessly. Ponytail kept the “Door Open” button
depressed while Buzzcut stepped out followed by Aomame, and then he released the
button and left the elevator. Buzzcut led the way down the corridor, Aomame
followed, and Ponytail continued playing rear guard. The broad corridor was totally
deserted: perfectly silent and perfectly clean, well cared for in every detail, befitting a
first-class hotel—no trays of used room-service dishes parked in front of doors, no
cigarette butts in the ashtray outside the elevator, the fragrance of fresh-cut flowers
wafting from well-placed vases. They turned several corners and came to a stop in
front of a door. Ponytail knocked twice and then, without waiting for an answer,
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opened the door with a key card. He stepped inside, looked around to make sure there
was nothing wrong, and gave Buzzcut a curt nod.
“Please,” Buzzcut said to Aomame drily.
Aomame walked in. Buzzcut came in after her and closed the door, locking it from
the inside with a chain. The room was a big one. No ordinary hotel room, it was
outfitted with a large set of reception-room furniture and an office desk. The
television set and refrigerator were also full-size. This was clearly the living area of a
special suite. The window provided a sweeping view of Tokyo at night. It had to be
an expensive room. Buzzcut checked his watch and urged Aomame to sit on the sofa.
She did as she was told and set her blue gym bag next to her.
“Will you be changing clothes?” Buzzcut asked.
“If possible,” Aomame said. “I’d prefer to change into workout clothes.”
Buzzcut nodded. “First we’ll have to do a search, if you don’t mind. Sorry, but it’s
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