Bill for the Use of a Body

by Dennis Wheatley

  While they ate, the second maid knelt first beside one then beside the other, filling little shallow cups with warm saki from a small vase-like bottle of eggshell china. The Japanese have poor heads for spirits, and Julian had heard it said that most of them got drunk if they had more than six or eight cups, although each held only a single swallow. He soon decided that he could have drunk half a bucketful without ill effect, but had not the least desire to do so, as the warm, sweet, sticky spirit lacked any definite flavour and cloyed his palate, making him wish for a glass of water. The meal ended with pots of green unsweetened tea, and he was grateful even for that unpleasant beverage. To his great relief, he was at last able to get to his feet, as for the past hour and a half he had suffered agonies shifting from hip to hip. However, being courteous by nature, he thanked his host for the entertainment and said that he had greatly enjoyed it.

  Their next visit was to the Tatsumara silk factory, one of the ancient establishments in the western quarter of the city. There, in an almost dark room, several wrinkled old men were weaving with amazing dexterity on wooden hand looms beautifully-patterned brocades, while in another girls were winding silk thread of many colours on to spindles. From a fine display of goods for sale Julian bought a dozen pairs of silk socks for a tenth of the price he would have had to pay in London, then they went out into the garden.

  Like all the other gardens, it was beautifully kept and might well have been that of one of the temples; but its lake held a score or more fish the like of which Julian had never before seen. They were almost two feet long and looked like carp, but were many lovely colours, a number of them being gold or silver, and it was these that Julian found so exceptional. They were not like ordinary goldfish but gilded, just as though their scales were made of gold leaf. Bill told him that if he wanted to buy one it would cost him a hundred pounds.

  From the silk factory they went to the most famous of all Zen Buddhist temples, Ryoanji. The outstanding feature of the place was its philosophic sand garden. This was an oblong piece of ground, measuring about seventy-five by thirty feet, covered with very fine gravel. The gravel had been raked with the greatest care into lines and curves, and planted in it were half a dozen rocks of varying sizes. Along the whole length of the temple side of the garden there ran two stout wooden steps on which a crowd of people, most of whom were silent, were standing or sitting looking at this unusual form of landscape gardening.

  Bill explained that the idea was to aid contemplation, and that if one stared at the sand and rocks for long enough one could imagine them to be islands in the sea, mountains on the moon, or earth as it was originally created. Julian accepted this theory, but thought such a state of mind would be difficult to attain while, as at present, half a hundred Japanese were taking snapshots of others who were only posing as contemplatives for them.

  A little after half past five Bill took Julian to the Kanze Noh Hall to see a Noh play. The seats were all stalls and comfortable fauteuils such as one would have found in a first-class European theatre. But the stage was entirely different. Instead of facing the auditorium, it was a canopy-covered structure, with one corner jutting out into it. One of its inner sides was occupied by the orchestra and the other by a seated chorus. When they arrived the play was well advanced, so they saw only the last quarter of an hour of it. That was ample for Julian since, although he found the resemblance to Greek drama interesting, Bill could give him only a vague idea of what was going on; and the actors, dressed in most gorgeous robes, remained entirely silent, doing no more than posture with slow gestures to indicate their distress, joy or anger.

  To Julian’s relief, Bill had made no arrangements for dinner, so dined again as his guest at the Miyako. Before eating he gratefully put down two large whiskies-and-sodas, regardless of the consideration which would have caused most tourists to make do with one; for in Japan, even in a shop, Scotch whisky cost ten pounds a bottle.

  During the day, by tacit consent, neither of them had mentioned Merri, although Julian had frequently thought of her. But it had been a very tiring day; so he went early to bed, and again slept soundly.

  Next morning Bill called for him and took him to Nijo Castle, the residence used by the Shoguns in the old days when they came to Kyoto to consult with the Emperors. It in no way resembled a European fortress, but was a large rectangular park enclosed by high walls that sloped inward and were made of big blocks of stone. Inside these there was a smaller area surrounded by a broad moat and similar walls, protecting an inner garden and the Palace.

  The building was of the conventional type, made of dark brown, heavily-carved wood. It had a tiled roof that turned up at the corners, supported by short stout plinths and sliding doors the upper part of which consisted of oiled paper; but it was the largest that Julian had yet seen. The interior also differed from those of the shrines and temples. Inside the outer wooden shell a ten-foot-wide corridor enclosed all the interior rooms. In the felt slippers he had been obliged to exchange for his leather shoes at the entrance of the Palace he began to walk down this long corridor; he noticed at once that, although the floor was even and brilliantly polished, with every step he took it gave a loud squeak.

  With a grin, Bill told him the reason. ‘Those old Shogun fellers were scared that they might be bumped off by some of the Emperor’s boys while they were in his city; so they had these floors constructed round their dwelling quarters. ‘Nightingale’ floors, they’re called. They’re laid on thousands of little metal rings that squeak when trodden on. The idea was that their squeaking in the night would give their guards the tip-off that someone was out here gunning for them.’

  Having admired the subtle paintings on silk by ancient masters that covered the inner walls, the beautifully decorated ceilings and, in one room, a score of magnificently robed life-sized figures representing a Shogun receiving the homage of his courtiers, Julian asked, ‘Can we go now and see the Imperial Palace?’

  Bill shook his crewcut head. ‘No. The Emperor still comes here at times; so I’d have to get us a permit. Later in the week maybe. Anyway, I could fix it for us to take a stroll round the grounds, and there’s acres and acres of them behind that tall wall I indicated to you yesterday. But we’ll run out to the Katsura Palace. That’s the Crown Prince’s place and not all that different, though quite a bit smaller.’

  Katsura turned out to be only another large garden, in which the trunks of many of the more precious trees had not yet had removed their winter protective casing of finely plaited straw. In it there were several lakes with a few medium-sized wooden buildings set round them.

  It had been drizzling all the morning, but Bill was anxious to take Julian to see the famous moss garden at the Temple of Saiho-ji. In the woods round it there were said to grow over a hundred different varieties of moss, but Julian found he could hardly distinguish one from another; although he admired the beautiful groves of bamboos, forty-foot high and with glossy trunks as thick round as a man’s thigh. They had been there only a quarter of an hour when rain began to come down in torrents; so they beat a hasty retreat to the car.

  On the way back into the city Bill said, ‘Seeing you enjoyed Japanese eats yesterday, I’m taking you along to a little place called Hyotie’s. It’s old as the hills. I’d say it was going strong long before those early Yanks threw your chests of tea into Boston harbour. I hope you’ll like it.’

  With a sinking heart Julian replied nobly, ‘I’m sure I shall.’

  He had already seen that Kyoto was a city of extraordinary contrasts. Shrines and temples that had flourished for eight hundred years and more were still served by devoted priests who sat before candle-lit altars rhythmically clapping their hands, while in nearby streets bars with blaring juke-box jazz and neon-lit pin-table saloons stood cheek by jowl with shops selling only kimonos or figures of the ancient gods; that a gaudy cinema stood within a hundred yards of the Noh Play Hall, and that, while some of Kyoto’s million inhabitants drove about in shiny limousines, o
thers, shod in straw sandals, stood on the pavements clutching staffs and beggars’ bowls. In consequence, he was not surprised when, no great distance from the city centre, the car entered a narrow turning that had the appearance of a pretty country lane, and pulled up outside an old-fashioned bungalow.

  On entering it and taking off their shoes, they were bowed into a room not more than eight feet square. No cook appeared this time, but a ‘Madame’ who superintended the meal, and two maids. Julian gave silent heartfelt thanks as he took in the fact that here, although he was to sit on a cushion on the floor, he would at least be able to support his back against a wall.

  The meal was served on two low square tables by the two maids, each set in front of one of the guests. It followed the same patternless course, and consisted of much the same tit-bits as that on the previous day; so, although Julian was able to eat it in somewhat greater comfort, he was glad when it was over.

  ‘Now,’ said Bill when they had finished, ‘I’ll take you to see the Daigoji Temple. It’s some way out, but has a five-storey pagoda and is one of the high spots of these parts. Then we’ll do the Museum.’

  ‘No,’ replied Julian firmly. For the time being he had had more than enough of sightseeing in Kyoto during such inclement weather. At the great religious festivals, with their splendid pageantry, or for three weeks in the year when the cherry blossom, azaleas, iris and camellias were all out, the gardens must be a delightful sight, but they were not out yet. And while the trained eye of the Japanese garden lover might appreciate their lay-outs and take pleasure in the fact that, with infinite patience, the gardeners had removed every down-pointing needle from every branch and twig of their pine trees, he felt that to have seen one was to have seen them all. He could not even now remember in which garden he had marvelled at the hundreds-of-years-old pine tree, the lower boughs of which had been trained to give the appearance of a large boat, and in which he had seen the big flat-topped heap of smooth sand on which for centuries priests had stood to take their observations of the stars. ‘No,’ he repeated, ‘I’m used to having a nap in the afternoon; so if you’ll forgive me I’d like to go back to the hotel.’

  ‘It’s for you to say,’ Bill smiled, and added a little pointedly; ‘when a feller’s getting on into middle age I guess he needs a bit of a let-up now and then. O.K. But there’s upwards of four hundred shrines and temples in this town. Plenty of good ones to see yet and keep our minds off Merri. I’ll pick you up same time tomorrow; then we’ll get going on the round again.’

  But Julian was not destined to see any more temples in Kyoto. Next morning, a quarter of an hour before Bill was due to call for him, his telephone rang. It was Bill, and he was speaking from the lobby. He asked Julian to come down at once. When they met five minutes later he took Julian by the arm and piloted him through the crowd in the entrance hall and up a flight of stairs to the tea-lounge, where it was quieter. Then he said:

  ‘My old man’s buddy, the Police Chief in Osaka, called me half an hour ago. He says there’s no sort of evidence that Hayashi had anything to do with snatching Merri; so getting a warrant to search Hayashi’s place is out. But they’ve traced the ship Merri was brought in on. She’s a small tramp called the Matabura and I thought we might go see her Captain. Maybe money’ll persuade him to give, and we’ll pick up some bit of information he didn’t turn in to the police. But we’ll have to make it snappy. The Matabura has been on a run up to Yokohama since she landed Merri, and she’s due to sail again at midday.’

  Julian readily agreed and they hurried out to the car. As soon as they had settled themselves, Bill gave the gist of the report he had received from the Police Chief. There were always one or two spare cabins on a tramp and it was a recognised custom that their Captains should be allowed to make a little extra money by taking passengers in them when they were not required for other purposes by the owners.

  At midnight on the day that Merri had been kidnapped the Matabura had been due to sail from Hong Kong to Yokohama, calling in at Osaka on the way. That morning a shipping agent had gone off to the tramp to ask if her Captain could take a Chinese gentleman, named Ling Yee, and his wife and daughter as passengers to Osaka. The daughter, he added, was only just recovering from a serious illness, so would be carried aboard on a stretcher and have to keep to her cabin; but her mother would take her meals to her and Mr. Ling was prepared to pay a bit above the price the Captain would have normally expected to get. The agent produced the money and the Captain had agreed.

  That afternoon a coolie had brought off the Lings’ luggage and it had been placed in the cabins they were to occupy, but evening came and they did not put in an appearance. The Captain had waited for them with increasing impatience, and even given them a quarter of an hour’s leeway; but at 12.15 he had sailed.

  Half an hour later, when the Matabura had rounded the western end of Hong Kong and was running down the channel between the island and Lamma Island, she had been hailed from a large launch with a number of people in her. The Ling family was among them and Mr. Ling had explained that, owing to his daughter having had a relapse just as they were about to leave their home, the doctor had had to be sent for and their departure had been delayed. As the girl had been declared fit to be moved, and he was still anxious to catch the ship, he had hired a launch in Aberdeen hoping to intercept the Matabura.

  The girl had been slung aboard in a hammock and taken straight to her cabin. Her parents had proved to be a quiet, respectable couple, but during the voyage none of the ship’s company had seen the girl. On arrival at Osaka the Lings had been greatly concerned about their daughter because the previous night she had had another relapse. Mr. Ling had gone ashore and arranged for an ambulance to come down to the wharf and, again slung in a hammock, the girl had been lowered over the side and taken ashore. That was the last the Captain of the Matabura had seen of the Lings, but on his return from Yokohama the police had questioned him about his last call at Osaka, and he had told them about the Lings on the chance that the invalid might be the missing girl.

  When Julian had heard Bill out he said, ‘Since the dates are right I haven’t a doubt that the girl was Merri, doped both when she was put on board and landed, and kept under light drugs during the voyage. But whoever handled this job in Hong Kong for Hayashi must be a first-class planner. Of course, after the chap who was watching Mrs. Sang’s house had turned in my note, his boss had the best part of a day to work in. His luck was in to find a ship that was sailing that night, but if there hadn’t been one he’d have only had to keep Merri hidden somewhere on one of the off-shore islands for a few days then work the same trick. And what a darned clever one. By it he saved himself from having to get forged papers for Merri at short notice, and avoided the possibility of being traced by having gone with her through the Hong Kong immigration people. Merri’s kidnapper would have known that we should leave the Sea Palace at least an hour before midnight, and once he’d got hold of her all he had to do was to lie well off the coast in the launch until the Matabura came up.’

  A good twenty minutes elapsed before they were clear of Kyoto, and they were able to increase their pace only along short stretches farther on. As had been the case when they had driven from Osaka, the narrow road held two streams of traffic that was for a lot of the time moving bumper to bumper, and for a good part of the way they had to crawl behind coaches and heavily loaded lorries. It was, too, another cold, rainy and gusty morning.

  Anxiously they kept consulting their watches as the minutes sped by and when they reached the docks the congestion was even worse, so by the time they pulled up on a wharf it was ten minutes to twelve. The Matabura was lying some way off and as Bill pointed her out to Julian he saw that she was already flying her Pilot Jack, showing that she was about to leave harbour.

  Hastily they secured a motor boat, and promised its owner a handsome sum if he would make all possible speed out to the Matabura. Even in the harbour the sea was made choppy by sudden gusts of wind. Th
e sky was overcast and it looked like blowing up for another storm. At the very moment they came alongside, the ship’s siren gave three ear-splitting blasts, announcing her departure.

  A junior officer had come to the ship’s rail and was looking down at them. Bill called up to him in Japanese. He shook his head; but Bill began to shout at him angrily and, with evident reluctance, the officer threw a rope ladder over the side. Bill swarmed up it with Julian after him. As they reached the deck the propellers began to turn. Leaving Julian standing there, Bill ran forward and up the bridge ladder. He was away for a good five minutes. As he came running back, he panted:

  ‘Captain’s set against holding her, even for quarter of an hour. But I’ve fixed it for the pilot to take us off in his boat. Skipper won’t leave the bridge. Couldn’t expect that while he’s getting the old tub out of harbour. We’ll have time to frisk Merri’s cabin, though. It’s not been slept in since. Maybe she managed to hide some sorta tip-off about the people who snatched her, hoping she’d be traced to the Matabura. If it linked them with Hayashi we’d be able to get the cops to raid his place. Got to find the steward first, though. He’s gotten the key.’

  As the vessel had only just sailed, the deck crew were all hard at work; but Bill grabbed one of them by the arm, swung him round and hissed urgent questions at him in sibilant Japanese. The man hissed something back and jerked his head in the direction of the open doorway under the bridge. Bill ran to it and was gone for another five minutes. When he reappeared the ship was clearing the harbour mouth and had begun to roll, but he was holding a key and pointing aft. Julian turned and joined him as he ran on towards a double row of deck cabins in the stern. Fumbling with the key, he got it in the lock of one of the cabins, turned it and jerked the door open.

  At the same moment they both moved to enter, and collided. Muttering apologies to one another, they stepped inside. It was a small single-berth cabin and had been tidied up since Merri had occupied it. There was only one cupboard and the bare drab walls offered no place of concealment for any clue she might have left.