Journey Under the Midnight Sun

by Keigo Higashino

  ‘I see. I suppose you’re busy,’ Chizuru said, looking disappointed.

  ‘Still, I hope we can see each other again. You don’t mind if I call, do you?’ Makoto asked. He had got her phone number during dinner.

  ‘Of course not,’ she said.

  ‘Great. Well, see you.’

  ‘Goodnight.’

  When she got out of the car, Makoto felt a strong urge to grab her hand. He would grab her hand, pull her close and kiss her right there. But that was only in his imagination.

  He saw her wave him off in his rear-view mirror as he drove into traffic.

  He wondered if she would be happy if he started taking lessons – as his head sank into the pillow. He wanted to tell her as soon as he could. But he didn’t have a chance to phone that night.

  He would get to see her every week. Just thinking that made his heart leap like he was a young man again. He couldn’t wait for next Saturday.

  He rolled over and heard the steady breathing of sleep from the next bed.

  That was all right. He wouldn’t be waking her tonight.

  ‘Meeting time,’ Narita announced to the members of the E team one day in July. The thin drizzle of the rainy season was falling outside the window. The air conditioning was on full blast in the building, but Narita still had his sleeves rolled up above his elbows.

  ‘We got some new leads from systems development about that expert system,’ Narita said once everyone was there. His hands were filled with printed reports.

  ‘Systems is of the opinion that if someone did steal our data there must’ve been an illegal access of our expert system, so they’ve been looking into that, and they finally found some traces of it the other day.’

  ‘So it was stolen,’ one of the more senior members of the team mumbled.

  ‘Last November someone used one of our workstations to copy the entire manufacturing expert system. They have a record of the copy being made, and that record itself was overwritten. Which is why they never found it until now,’ he added, lowering his voice.

  ‘So it was somebody in our company?’ Makoto asked, looking around at the other members.

  ‘That’s likely, yes,’ Narita said, his face severe. ‘They’re going to look into it a little more before deciding whether or not to take it to the police. Of course we still can’t prove that the expert system making the rounds is a copy of ours. We won’t be able to do that until we’ve analysed the data down to the last byte. Still, it’s looking more likely that that is the case.’

  Yamano raised his hand. ‘What if it wasn’t somebody from inside the company? Couldn’t someone have come in on a vacation day and used one of our workstations?’

  ‘They’d still need an ID and password,’ Makoto said.

  ‘Actually, on that point,’ Narita said, ‘systems has been looking into that exact possibility. Whoever did this would’ve had to be very good with computers. A pro. Which leaves us with really only two possibilities. The first is that somebody inside brought in the thief. The other possibility is that somehow a thief got hold of somebody’s ID and password. I don’t think any of us have really been aware how valuable that information is, myself included. Somebody might have caught us with our pants down.’

  Makoto felt his back pocket to make sure his wallet was still there. His employee identification card was inside. He had written the ID he used to access the workstations and the password on the back.

  He remembered being told explicitly not to do that – write down the password and ID together in the same place where someone might see it – and thought he should probably erase them as soon as he got a chance.

  ‘Whoa, at Tozai, too?’ Chizuru said, taking a sip of coffee out of a paper cup.

  ‘You mean this happens at other companies?’ Makoto asked.

  ‘Yeah, it’s been going around lately. They say information is money these days. Pretty much every company has all their data on computers now, which works out great for people looking to steal information. You can take a whole stack of documents and put them on a single floppy. And you can search them with a few key presses to find exactly what you want.’

  ‘I see how that would be good.’

  ‘And Tozai just had an internal network, right? Imagine if they were like some of these places that have connections to external networks. There are more of those these days. That would let someone sneak in from the outside, which makes it even more dangerous. Apparently it’s already been happening for a few years now in America. They call them hackers, the people who sneak into other people’s computers to play tricks and steal stuff.’

  He was impressed with Chizuru’s knowledge, guessing it came from being at so many different companies. He reflected that it was she and other temp workers like her that had transferred all of his own company’s patent information from microfilm to computer disks.

  It was almost five o’clock. Makoto threw his empty cup in the bin. The lobby of the driving range was filled as usual with people waiting their turn. They hadn’t been able to find empty seats so they were leaning against the wall as they talked.

  ‘So, have you practised your approach since then?’ Makoto said, changing topics.

  Chizuru shook her head. ‘No. I barely have time to come practise. How about yourself?’

  ‘I haven’t touched a club since class last week.’

  ‘But you have a natural talent for it,’ she said. ‘I had such a head start, and you’re already learning higher-level things than I am. I was never very coordinated, I guess.’

  ‘They say that if you start off a little rough, you get better faster.’

  ‘If you’re trying to make me feel better, it’s not working,’ Chizuru said with a laugh.

  It had already been three months since Makoto had joined lessons at the driving range. To date he hadn’t missed a single class. For one thing, golf was far more interesting than he had anticipated, though his eagerness to meet Chizuru every week was his true motivation.

  ‘Care to go anywhere after practice today?’ Makoto asked. It had already become customary for them to go out to eat after lessons were over.

  ‘I’m fine with any place.’

  ‘How about Italian, then?’

  ‘Sure,’ she said, smiling.

  ‘You know,’ Makoto said, glancing around before continuing in a low voice, ‘I was hoping I could see you some time on a day when we don’t have practice. Just to talk, without worrying about the time.’

  He was confident she wouldn’t think this was an imposition. The question was how much she would hesitate. Meeting on a day when they didn’t have practice was a very different thing from grabbing dinner on the way home from lessons.

  ‘That’d be fine,’ she said simply. It sounded natural, though that might have been an act. A smile lingered on her lips.

  ‘Great, well, I’ll think of a good day and let you know.’

  ‘Just give me a little warning and I can move work around.’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  That one simple exchange had Makoto walking on sunshine.

  Makoto’s date with Chizuru was set for the third Friday in July. They would have plenty of time because it was the beginning of the weekend, and Chizuru would be able to get off work earlier that day.

  There was another thing working in that day’s favour: Yukiho was supposed to leave for a week-long purchasing trip to Italy that Thursday. She had been going to Italy once every few months of late.

  Makoto came home on the Wednesday before Yukiho was set to depart and found her in the living room with her suitcase wide open getting ready for the trip. ‘Hi,’ she said when he walked in, but her eyes were on the calendar spread out on the table.

  ‘Dinner?’ Makoto asked.

  ‘I made some stew, you go ahead. I’m a little busy right now.’ She still didn’t look at her husband.

  Makoto went into the bedroom without saying anything and changed into a T-shirt and sweatpants.

  He had felt the c
hange in her lately. Until recently, she had been so distraught over not being able to be a good wife to him that she would cry. But now it was, ‘Go ahead and eat.’

  He wondered if it was her success at work that made her so stand-offish. Or maybe it’s because I’ve stopped demanding anything of her, Makoto thought. Before, whenever something rubbed him the wrong way, he would get mad immediately, but lately, he hardly raised his voice at all. He was happy if each day went by uneventfully.

  His re-encounter with Chizuru Misawa had changed everything. Since that day he had lost all interest in Yukiho, nor did he want her to have any interest in him. This is what they mean when they talk about people drifting apart, he thought.

  Makoto went back to the living room and Yukiho said, ‘Oh, I almost forgot. Natsumi is staying over tonight. It’s better if we go to the airport together tomorrow.’

  ‘Who’s Natsumi?’

  ‘You haven’t met her? She’s been working at the shop since the very beginning. We’re going together this time.’

  ‘OK. Where she’s sleeping?’

  ‘I cleaned up the guest room.’

  So I guess it’s all decided then, Makoto wanted to say, but he held back.

  Natsumi arrived just after ten. She was a little over twenty, with a pretty face.

  ‘I hope you’re not planning on going like that,’ Yukiho said when she saw Natsumi wearing a red T-shirt and jeans.

  ‘I’ll change into a suit tomorrow. This is going in my luggage.’

  ‘I don’t think you’ll need a T-shirt and jeans. We’re not going as tourists. You should probably leave them here.’ Yukiho’s voice had a severity to it that Makoto had never heard.

  ‘OK,’ Natsumi replied in a small voice.

  The two women started talking in the living room, so Makoto went ahead and took a shower. When he came out of the bathroom, they had gone off to a different room.

  Makoto pulled a glass and a bottle of Scotch out of the living room cupboard, grabbed some ice from the fridge, and sat down in front of the television. He had never been much of a beer drinker. Whenever he drank alone it was Scotch on the rocks. It had become a nightly routine.

  The door opened and Yukiho came in, but Makoto didn’t look at her. His eyes were fixed on the sports news.

  ‘Makoto?’ Yukiho said. ‘Think you could turn it down? Natsumi can’t sleep with that noise.’

  ‘You can’t hear it in there, can you?’

  ‘You can. That’s why I came to tell you to turn it down.’ There were thorns in her voice. Makoto scowled, grabbed the remote and turned the volume down.

  Yukiho was still standing there. He could feel her eyes on him. So she wants to say something. The thought crossed his mind that it could be about Chizuru. But that was impossible.

  Yukiho sighed. ‘Look at you, living the life.’

  ‘What?’ He looked up at her. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘I mean just look at you, doing whatever you want, whenever you want. Drinking your Scotch, watching the ball game —’

  ‘What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘Nothing’s wrong. I’m just saying you’re living the life,’ she said as she turned to go into the bedroom.

  ‘Hold on, what do you mean? If you have something to say, say it.’

  ‘Keep your voice down. Natsumi will hear,’ Yukiho said, furrowing her brow.

  ‘You’re the one who started it. I’m asking you what you meant.’

  ‘Nothing, like I said,’ Yukiho turned back around to face him. ‘I was just wondering if you have any dreams? Ambitions? Or do you just plan on spending the rest of your life this way, getting old, never trying to make something of yourself?’

  He felt his hair bristle and tightness come into his jaw. ‘You think you have ambition?’ he scoffed. ‘You’re just playing at being a businesswoman.’

  ‘I am running a business.’

  ‘Whose business? I bought that shop.’

  ‘And I’m paying rent, aren’t I? And who are you to talk? You bought it with money you got from your parents.’

  Makoto glared at her. She glared right back.

  ‘I’m going to bed. I have to get up early tomorrow,’ she said. ‘You should probably get to bed soon too. And don’t drink too much.’

  ‘Leave me be.’

  ‘Goodnight!’ She disappeared into the bedroom.

  Makoto sat back down and grabbed the bottle of Scotch. He poured a long slosh into his glass. The ice was almost gone. He drank it down and somehow it tasted more bitter than usual.

  When he opened his eyes, his head was pounding. Makoto frowned and tried to rub the fog out of his eyes. He could see Yukiho sitting at her dresser putting on make-up.

  He glanced over at the clock. It was time to wake up, but his body felt as if it was made out of lead.

  He went to say something to Yukiho, but couldn’t think of anything. For some reason she felt impossibly distant.

  He looked at her face in the mirror and blinked. Why was she wearing a patch over one eye?

  ‘What’s that for?’ he asked. ‘Why are you wearing a patch?’

  Yukiho looked around slowly. Her face was like a mask. ‘It’s from last night.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘You don’t remember?’

  Makoto was silent. He tried to remember anything about last night. He recalled getting into a fight with Yukiho and drinking a little more Scotch than normal after that. But he couldn’t remember what he’d done afterwards. He just had a vague memory that he’d got very sleepy. And yet he didn’t remember how he had gone to bed. The pounding in his head was making it hard to remember much of anything.

  ‘Did I… do something?’ Makoto asked.

  ‘I was asleep last night and you came in and ripped the covers off…’ Yukiho swallowed before continuing. ‘Then you shouted something and started hitting me.’

  ‘What?’ His eyes shot wide open. ‘I didn’t do that.’

  ‘You most certainly did. My head, my face…’

  ‘I don’t remember that at all.’

  ‘You were drunk,’ she said, standing and walking towards the door.

  ‘Wait, no,’ he called out her. ‘I really don’t remember it.’

  ‘Oh? That’s funny, because I’ll never forget.’

  ‘Yukiho…’ He tried taking a deep breath. His head was swirling. ‘If I did that I apologise. I’m so sorry —’

  Yukiho stood for a while, her head drooping, then she said, ‘I’ll be home next Saturday,’ and opened the door and walked out.

  Makoto let his head sink into the pillow. He looked up at the ceiling and tried to retrace what had happened the night before, but found nothing but darkness.

  The ice clinked in the tumbler in Chizuru’s hand. Her face was flushed beneath her eyes.

  ‘This was really fun. I mean everything. The talking, the food,’ she said, shaking her head as if in disbelief.

  ‘I had a great time too,’ Makoto said. ‘It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this good.’ He leaned on the counter and turned towards her. ‘It’s because of you. Thanks.’ It was an embarrassing thing to say in public, but thankfully the bartender was otherwise occupied and didn’t seem to have heard.