The GoldenCity

Boone headed back across the yard. Over the years, he had hired hundreds of mercenaries for the Brethren. He didn’t care what they had done in the past so long as they obeyed orders. Some members of his team had killed the children at New Harmony, but what happened there was as precise and organized as a well-run military operation; his men had their assignments and they completed them without emotion. The plan did not allow survivors. But Martin Doyle bothered him. The Panopticon was about order and control, and there was nothing controlled about Doyle’s actions. He was the living embodiment of the perverse randomness that existed in the world.

Boone was moving so fast that Captain Tansiri had to run to catch up with him. “Is everything all right, sir?”

“No problem. Thank you for your assistance.”

“Perhaps you could join me for refreshments in the officer’s lounge. It’s air conditioned and the prisoners won’t be there-aside from the serving staff.”

“Sorry. I’ve got an appointment in Bangkok.”

A prisoner in rags was squatting in the middle of the yard. As Boone passed, the prisoner glanced up and it was her-her face-here in this fragment of hell. No. Blink your eyes. No. And the vision dissolved into a toothless old man, raising his cupped hands as he begged for money.

23

Hollis woke up from a dream and found himself in a cold, dark room. There were no street lights in the village of Shukunegi, and Billy Harano’s aunt turned off everything electrical before she went to sleep. Back in Los Angeles, Hollis could always hear traffic noise or a police siren. Now the only sound came from the wind whistling through a crack in the shutters.

He slid his hand across the quilt and then reached out to touch the handgun lying near the edge of the tatami mat. The weapon reminded him that he was still a fugitive. Hollis breathed deeply and tried to relax, but at that moment it felt like sleep was in far off land and he didn’t know how to travel there. And then the memory of the Itako chanting and clicking her prayer beads returned to him. He could still recall the old woman’s dead eyes as Vicki’s voice emerged from her body.

***

After the Itako finished the ritual, Hollis walked out of the house. For several months, a continual anger had directed his actions and given him a fierce power. Now that anger was gone, and he felt tired and confused. Billy Harano stared at him as he stood in the middle of the country road. Exhaust drifted from the taxi’s tail pipe, but Hollis didn’t get back in the car.

“I need to stay out of sight for awhile,” Hollis said. “Do you know a good hiding place?”

Billy looked like a doctor who had just been asked a complicated medical question. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he paced around for a few seconds, then kicked a stone into the road ditch. “It is dangerous to hide in a Japanese city. There are police everywhere, and they would notice you. In a village, people would also have questions. But maybe I could take you to Sado Island.”

“Where’s that?”

“It’s off the west coast of Japan. My aunt lives there in a village called Shukunegi. There are thousands of tourists on the island every summer, but right now it’s just the fishermen.”

“So what is she going to say when I show up?”

“They have television sets in Shukunegi, but they only get one channel. It’s a village of old people. They watch the game shows, but they don’t care about the news.”

“I’m still going to stick out in that location.”

“Of course you will.” Billy grinned. “You’ll be a new source of entertainment. Watching foreigners make mistakes is a traditional Japanese pastime. But on the islands, people live their own lives. They do not like to talk to the police.”

The rest of the day, they took a series of regional train lines over the mountains to western Japan. The fields were covered with long sheets of white plastic as if the soil had to be gradually introduced to sunshine. All the train conductors stared at the black foreigner, but Billy told them that Hollis was an American choreographer who had come to Japan to study traditional dancing.

During the ferry ride over to Sado Island, the boat passed through patches of snow and rain. At one point, the sun broke through the thick cloud cover and light streamed down on the grey-green ocean like a shaft of divine energy. Hollis doubted if anyone saw it; the other passengers on the boat lay on the floor of a carpeted television room dozing or staring at music videos. He wondered if that was the true secret of history: Great changes occurred in the world, but most people spent their lives half asleep.

“What happens when we reach the island?”

“We take a bus to the village and meet my Aunt Kimiko.”

“What if she doesn’t like me?”

“You are my friend, Hollis. That is all I need to say. We are guests for the first few days, and then we have to work.”

***