Occupied City (16 page)

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Authors: David Peace

Tags: #Fiction, #Library, #Science Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #General, #High Tech

BOOK: Occupied City
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Before you now, in his cape and his hat,

with his curses and his spells, stain–

tear-ed and stain-blood-ed, nailed

to the back of a door, IN THE oCcULT CITY

The Fifth Candle –
The Curses
&
the Spells of the Man in the Shrine

The city is a curse, this city is a spell;
webs of curses, weaves of spells
.
For this is the oCcULT CITY
.
But I am its nemesis –
Here to break its spells, to exorcize the curses
,
IN THE oCcULT CITY …

IN THE oCcULT CITY, in the shadows of my private shrine, beneath the branches of its winter trees, they are unloading the trucks outside the bank.
One, two, three, four
. They are stacking the coffins along the side of the bank.
Five, six, seven, eight
. They are waiting to take them away again.
Nine, ten
. I tear open the box of Hiropon. I take out a syringe. And another. I take off my hat. And my cape. My jacket. I unbutton the left cuff of my shirt. I roll up the left sleeve of my shirt. I shake the bottle. I twist off the cap. I break the seal. I attach the bottle to the needle, the needle to my arm, to my vein, my blood. And I press down. Down, down. Now I remove the needle from my blood, from my vein, my arm. I throw away the needle. The bottle. I roll down the left sleeve of my shirt. I button up the left cuff of my shirt. I put my jacket back on. And my cape. My hat. Now I lean back against the trunk of a winter tree. I light a cigarette. In the shadows of my private shrine, I cough. They are loading the ten coffins into the trucks.
One, two, three, four
. They are stacking the coffins in the backs of the trucks.
Five, six, seven, eight
. They are taking them away, again.
Nine, ten …

Under a blood-red moon, low in a dirty-yellow sky
,
sirens across my city, sirens through my night
.
Here among these branches, here among these limbs
,
I am lost in a forest of broken bones and dead skin
,
in my defeated city, now occupied
,
I shuffle through this forest
,
the broken bones and the dead skin
.
I stain the trees
,
the branches and the limbs
.

IN THE oCcULT CITY, in the shadow of the scene of the crime, across the road from the Shiinamachi branch of the Teikoku Bank, I have formed a local organization. I have named it the
Mejiro Security Association – Nagasaki Shrine Branch
. I have established a
Civil Investigative Headquarters
. I have opened an office for business in the back of the Nagasaki Shrine, Shiinamachi. I have cut out the articles, the reports. I have stuck them onto paper, into notebooks. I have pinned a map of the oCcULT CITY to the wall of the office in the shrine. I have plotted the points on the map; the Ebara branch of the Yasuda Bank, the Nakai branch of the Mitsubishi Bank, and the Shiinamachi branch of the Teikoku Bank. The three points to date.
To date
, for there will be six points; Six Points to His Evil Star. For I will map the Six Points of His Evil Star in the oCcULT City and I will stalk the steps of the Killer through this oCcULT CITY. I will track His trail through this oCcULT CITY. I will talk to the witnesses, the women and the children who were here, the women and the children who saw the aftermath of the crime. I will record their testimonies. I will take their testimonies to Mejiro Police Station. For I am here to help, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, for I will not sleep. I will take six Hiropon injections every day. I will do my very best, I will go beyond my best, until the Killer is caught, until His curse is lifted. For I will lift the curse of His crime from this neighbourhood, the curse of all the crimes from this city, for I have come to solve all crimes, I have come to MURDER all curses and spells.

I am here to assassinate MAGICK –

To break its seal.

He is here, He is here, He is here
,
and He smiles and He says
,
‘Leave this place! Leave this city
,
this oCcULT CITY
,
for this is not your city
,
this is my city!’
But I am not afraid, not afraid of Him
,
and so I smile and I say
,
‘Be gone from this place! Be gone from this city
,
this oCcULT CITY
,
for this is not your city
,
this is my city!’

IN THE oCcULT CITY, across the road from the Nagasaki Shrine, there are workmen, inside and outside the Teikoku Bank. Through the doors of the bank, I hear the sound of hammers, the hammers and nails to hide the stains. Down the corridors of the bank, through its doors, the smell of new tatami mats, the new tatami mats to cover the stains. Out in the streets, I see policemen, their hats soaked black and their boots stained white, trampling over our neighbourhood; our neighbourhood cursed and stained by His crime; His crime that poisoned and murdered our neighbourhood. North to South, they are tearing apart the entire city. East to West, twenty thousand detectives searching for the Killer. For clues. Top to bottom. Following up every lead, following up every report. Banging on doors. Every hint, every rumour. Inside and out. Every shadow, every whisper. Upstairs and down. Interviewing and talking. Street after street. Bullying and shouting. House after house. But they do not know. For they cannot know. So I put on my cape. I put on my hat. I go out into the streets. To the houses. To bang on doors. To interview. To help. For I know. I know the face of the Killer. For I have seen His face. In my dreams.

He is here, He is here, He is here again –
He shuffles through the forest, He shuffles through the trees
,
for He has brought their carcasses to this place
,
here to parade their meat
,
their flesh to hang from the branches
,
their blood to drip from the leaves
,
IN THE oCcULT CITY
.
But I am here, I am here, I am also here –
For I am stalking His steps. I am on His trail
,
through the forest, through the trees
,
for I will bring His carcass to this place
,
I will parade His meat
,
hang His flesh from the branches
,
drip His blood from the leaves
,
IN THE oCcULT CITY

IN THE oCcULT CITY, they will burn the dead today. So I walk up Shinobazu-dōri. I come to the Gokokuji Temple. The mass funeral begins at three. These temples are their sanctuaries, their last sanctuaries from Him. For here they are safe, here I am safe. In these temples He cannot see through the smoke, in here He cannot smile His evil smile. Not like in the shrines, the shrines He likes. For the shrines of Tokyo are now evil shrines. Magnets for evil, repositories of evil. The Evil Magick now victorious, the Holy War now lost –

The Holy War which began in 1873 when the Ministry of Religion forbade the practices of all exorcists, faith-healers, fortunetellers and shamans. The War which continued with the 1880 Meiji Criminal Code and its prohibition against our talismanic prayers, and then the Revised Criminal Code of 1908 which further criminalized and imprisoned,
‘Those who spread gossip and wild rumours or false alarms which deceive people. Those who without authority tell fortunes; or who conduct exorcisms and incantations; or who otherwise mislead people by conferring on them things resembling talismans. Those who conduct spells, exorcisms, and incantations for the sick; or who impede medical care by giving amulets and holy water…’
Those like me; Shimizu Kogorō, the Occult-Detective –

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