Evil and the Mask (6 page)

There were some shadowy figures lurking behind my father. He had some influence with several people with yakuza connections. His disappearance would be strange but somehow typical of him. Maybe he had surprised some burglars, who killed him, went through his papers and took the body away with them so it wouldn’t be discovered right away. Or perhaps they had intended to kill him from the outset, and for some reason wanted to delay discovery. Certainly no one would suspect his thirteen-year-old son of locking him in an underground room, because at school I was regarded as a bright, cheerful boy. At least, I thought I was.

WEARING THICK RUBBER gloves, I picked five brown death caps on the hill, put them in a case and sealed it. I took the train all the way to Mie and bought two large pairs of mass-produced sports shoes. While my father was out I went into the cellar and studied the mechanics of the knob on the door to the secret room. It was the common lever type, with a handle that you pushed down to open. That meant that if I put a piece of furniture or something under the handle on the outside so it couldn’t move, the door wouldn’t open. Perhaps I could make it look like some of the furniture on the stairs had somehow tipped over and obstructed the door entirely by chance. Among the junk stored down there I found the
remains of a broken air-conditioner that was exactly the right height. When I tilted it forwards from the steps, it fit so snugly under the lever I could hardly believe it. It blocked the handle completely, so no matter how much you shoved or pounded, the door wouldn’t open. And if I placed a cloth over the hatch at the top of the stairs as camouflage and dragged a piece of furniture on top of it, there was no way it could be opened from below. I planned to scatter tires and old plywood around the furniture. No one would ever think there was another flight of stairs beneath it.

I made my preparations, rehearsed the process several times, and then kept my ears open. The next time my father went to the cellar, that would be D-Day. But one night, after waiting for several days, I heard Kaori’s bedroom door open.

If Father summoned her before I killed him, she would have to go to his room. Foolishly, I had overlooked this vital fact. In my nervousness about committing the murder, my judgment had deteriorated markedly. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I left my room, rushed along the corridor after her.

“You don’t have to go!” I called.

“But …”

Her back and shoulders were unnaturally stiff.

“You don’t have to. From now on if he calls for you, tell me first.”

Taking a deep breath, I headed towards his room. Maybe all my schemes were about to come tumbling down. I was too panicked to come up with a better plan. If the game was up, I might as well kill him now. That’s how I felt in my
desperation, and my fear prevented me from thinking clearly. Many thoughts raced through my mind. Uppermost among them was that nobody could punish me, because I was only thirteen. Surely the old man would die if I strangled him. Any method would do. If he was gone, all my problems would be solved. Confused, unprepared and gasping for air, I knocked on his door.

Even when he saw that it was me and not Kaori, his expression didn’t change. The light over the bed was on and he was reclining in his dressing gown, sipping whiskey. Glancing at me and then looking away in disgust, he raised his glass to his dark red lips. My heart was thumping and I could hardly breathe.

“I’ve got something to ask you. I’m sorry, but could you please raise my allowance?”

My voice quavered as I uttered this ridiculous request. Father turned back to me as though he knew exactly what was going on. I didn’t care. I was beside myself, but even in my turmoil I knew I was going to kill him. It didn’t matter how. I would conquer him. As for what to do afterwards, I’d cross that bridge when I came to it. What happened next would depend on what he said, I repeated to myself.

“Fallen for her, have you? The girl?”

His voice was slurred with alcohol.

“Obviously you have. How trite. But that’s fine. You …”

I was sure he must be able to hear my ragged breathing.

“In two months we’re going to the villa in Shizuoka. You, me and Kaori. Your fourteenth birthday will be just around the corner.”

He stopped speaking, gestured for me to go. I left the room
with my head in a whirl. At any rate, I thought, Kaori was safe for the next two months. But time was running out. To murder him I would have to overcome an even greater fear than that I had just experienced.

When I went back to my room, Kaori was waiting for me. As soon as I saw her I began to cry. I asked for a kiss and she gave me one. We remained locked in each other’s arms for a long time. She started to say something, faltered, tried again and then closed her mouth.

Three days later, in the middle of the night, my father left his bedroom. Clutching my backpack, I crept silently after him towards the underground chamber.

THE WHITE LIGHT was hazy. I was lying face up on a soft bed. My head was still fuzzy, probably because the anesthetic hadn’t worn off yet. A faint smir of rain was hitting the window. It occurred to me that the same cold rain was also soaking the expressway away in the distance. Inside the room, however, it was warm. I realized I still had no feeling in my face.

“I’ve got a daughter,” the doctor said as soon as I opened my eyes. “Now she’s old enough to understand what I do, and she keeps pestering me to fix her too.”

He laughed softly.

“That’s tricky,” I replied, but my mouth wouldn’t move and my words didn’t come out properly.

“You still won’t be able to talk very well. I’d like you to stay here for a bit longer.”

He was looking out the window. On the cabinet beside my bed was a peculiar doll, its arms and legs too long for its body. I noticed vaguely that it was wearing a white dress. The green outlines of the potted plants shimmered in the light. I spoke to his back.

“I remembered some things from a long time ago.”

“Yes?”

“More than ten years ago. My first love, this gloomy mansion I was living in, different stuff.”

He turned around slowly.

“That often happens to people who’ve had major facial reconstruction, before they wake up. They’re trying to remember details of things they’ve lost from their past.”

The rain kept falling.

“It was a time when I was still happy, happier than I am now. A time when I had everything, when joy and despair were strangely mixed up. It’s like the other me was working its way through my memories to tell me the story.”

“But here you’ve gained a new life.”

I smiled faintly. Or more precisely, I tried to. My cheeks and lips were numb.

“An unorthodox plastic surgeon like you must be able to tell that’s not why I changed my face.”

“It’s not so you can make a fresh start?”

“Nothing’s going to start. There’s nothing to start.”

I took a deep breath.

“How long before I can see my face?”

“Two or three days. It’s going to be fine. It looks exactly like Koichi Shintani’s. You’ve taken on a dead man’s identity.”

THE HOSPITAL WAS in an ordinary residential area in the suburbs of Tokyo.

At first glance it looked like a private house, but the inside was a clinic for illegal plastic surgery, used by people who wanted to change their faces for nefarious reasons. Mobsters and the like came here, but the doctor didn’t have the air of desperation of other social outcasts. The interior was clean and quiet.

On the day the bandages were removed, the doctor watched with a smile. In the silver-framed mirror was another face. Confused, I moved my right arm in a meaningless gesture. When I opened my mouth, the man in the mirror opened his.

“You might be a little uncomfortable for a while,” said the doctor. “Your brain is disoriented. It’ll take some time before it accepts the face it’s seeing as normal.”

“I guess so.”

He returned to his chair and drank his tea.

“But it’s made you a little older. You were in your twenties, but now you’re thirty. If you’re going to use this Shintani’s identity unchanged …”

I nodded.

“The two of you have similar bone structures, very similar. For ID photos and things you’ll look the same, I think, but if you meet someone who knows him well they might think something’s not quite right. That’s how human faces work.
It’s certainly a handsome one, though. Do you still think you have no future?”

“Are you still going on about that?”

The doctor smiled. A strong, thin beam of sunlight shone through the window.

“What’s your story?” I asked. “The other day you were talking about your daughter, and you look like you’ve got a wife, too. Yet you’re doing this. You can’t get many patients, but your fees are enormous. Despite that, though, you don’t wear expensive clothes, and your watch and your car are average too. That’s been bugging me ever since we first met, for some reason, and now that I’ve had the chance to talk to you several times, it interests me even more. Nothing seems to hurt you, no matter what anyone says to you, no matter what happens. It’s like nothing touches you.”

He sipped his tea again. Looking at his bland expression, I felt compelled to continue.

“Are you just pretending? Pretending to have built a loving family? That’s how it seems to me. While you pretend to love your wife and your daughter, you’re simply going through the motions.”

“You’re quite talkative today. But perhaps you’re right.”

His lips twisted and he lit a menthol cigarette.

“I like to watch people who are starting their lives over. A thorough villain—what sort of life will he lead afterwards, thanks to me breaking the rules? Because some lives aren’t governed by the normal rules, but by a separate set.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“Partly,” he said, and smiled again.

Leaving the cunningly disguised clinic, I caught a cab, made a phone call and headed for the Imperial Hotel. Circular Route 7 was very crowded and the inside of the car was too warm. The taxi crawled forward at walking speed, a meter at a time. I gazed at my reflection in the window.

I’ve disappeared, I thought. Other people recognized me by my face, and it was gone. My outward appearance had vanished from the world. All that remained was my inside, clinging to its memories, but no one could see that. My real self was invisible. That assumed, however, that my real self would continue to exist.

When I entered the lounge, the man was already there. He was dressed in an unremarkable suit and unremarkable shoes, but his eyes were piercing. I approached him, smiling, and he bowed slightly. It felt strange, another person responding to this face that wasn’t mine.

I ordered an iced coffee and he asked for the same. Until the drinks arrived I observed him silently, but the silence didn’t bother him. I waited until the waitress had gone and then spoke.

“There’s something I’d like you to do for me. I believe you know an elderly gentleman called Shozo Kuki. He was the head of the Kuki family.”

The man’s expression didn’t change. He looked to be in his forties but was probably older.

“I don’t know him, I’m afraid.”

“That’s not true,” I said, and lit a cigarette. “What did Shozo Kuki get you to investigate? That’s what I’d like to know. Sorry to speak so bluntly, but your business is going downhill.”