“It’s a little strange that a politician would go to the trouble of having a vacation home in such a remote place.”
“A lot of politicians had retreats here back then. Prince Fumimaro Konoe, prime minister just before World War Two, had a summer retreat just a couple of mountains over from here. It’s on the way to Hakone and Atami, and must have been a perfect spot for people to gather for secret talks. It’s hard to keep it secret when VIPs get together in Tokyo.”
We moved the thick boards that lay covering the hole.
“I’m going to go down inside,” Menshiki said. “Would you wait for me?”
“I’ll be here,” I said.
Menshiki climbed down the mental ladder the contractor had left for us. The ladder creaked a bit with each step. I watched him from above. When he got to the bottom he took the flashlight from around his neck, switched it on, and carefully checked his surroundings. He rubbed the stone wall, and pounded his fist against it.
“This wall is solidly made, and pretty intricate,” Menshiki said, looking up at me. “I don’t think it’s just some well that’s been filled in halfway. If it was a well, it would just be a lot of stones piled up on top of each other. They wouldn’t have done such a meticulous job.”
“You think it was built for some other purpose?”
Menshiki shook his head, indicating that he had no idea. “Anyway, the wall is made so you can’t easily climb out. There aren’t any spaces to get a foothold. The hole’s less than nine feet deep, but scrambling to the top wouldn’t be an easy feat.”
“You mean it was built that way, to be hard to climb up?”
Menshiki shook his head again. He didn’t know. No clue.
“I’d like you to do something for me,” Menshiki said.
“What would that be?”
“Would it be an imposition for you to pull up the ladder, and put the cover on tight so no light gets in?”
That left me speechless.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry,” Menshiki said. “I’d like to experience what it’s like to be shut up here, in the bottom of the dark pit, by myself. No plans to turn into a mummy yet, though.”
“How long do you plan to be down there?”
“When I want to get out, I’ll ring the bell. When you hear the bell, take off the cover and lower down the ladder. If an hour passes without you hearing the bell, come and remove the cover. I don’t plan to be down here over an hour. Please don’t forget that I’m down here. If you did forget, I really would turn into a mummy.”
“The mummy hunter becomes a mummy.”
Menshiki laughed. “Exactly.”
“There’s no way I’ll forget. But are you sure it’s okay, doing that?”
“I’m curious. I’d like to try sitting for a while at the bottom of a dark pit. I’ll give you the flashlight. And you can hand me the bell.”
He climbed halfway up the ladder and held out the flashlight for me. I took it, and held out the bell. He took the bell and gave it a little shake. It rang out clearly.
“But if—just supposing—I were attacked by vicious hornets on the way and fell unconscious, or even died, then you might never be able to get out of here. You never know what’s going to happen in this world.”
“Curiosity always involves risk. You can’t satisfy your curiosity without accepting some risk. Curiosity didn’t just kill the cat.”
“I’ll be back in an hour,” I said.
“Watch out for the hornets,” Menshiki said.
“And you take care down there in the dark.”
Menshiki didn’t reply, and just looked up at me, as if trying to decipher some meaning in my expression as I gazed down at him. There was some kind of vagueness in his eyes, like he was straining to focus on my face, but couldn’t. It was an uncertain expression, not at all like him. Then, as if reconsidering things, he sat down on the ground and leaned against the curved stone wall. He looked up and raised his hand a little. All set, he was telling me. I yanked up the ladder, pulled the thick boards over so they completely covered up the hole, and set some heavy stones on top of that. A small amount of light might filter in through narrow cracks between the boards, though inside the hole should be dark enough. I thought about calling out to Menshiki from on top of the cover, but thought better of it. What he wanted was solitude and silence.
* * *
—
I went back home, boiled water, and made tea. I sat on the sofa and picked up where I’d left off in a book. I couldn’t focus on reading, though, since my ears were alert for the sound of the bell. Every five minutes I checked my watch, and imagined Menshiki, alone in the bottom of that dark hole. What an odd person, I thought. He uses his own money to hire a landscape contractor, who uses heavy equipment to move that pile of stones and open up the entrance to that hole. And now Menshiki was confined there, all by himself. Or rather, deliberately shut away in there at his own request.
Whatever, I thought. Whatever necessity or intentions motivated it (assuming there was some kind of necessity or intention), that was Menshiki’s problem, and I could leave it all up to him. I was an unthinking actor in someone else’s plan. I gave up reading the book, lay down on the sofa, closed my eyes, but of course didn’t fall asleep. This was no time to be sleeping.
An hour passed without the bell ringing. Or maybe I’d somehow missed the sound. Either way, it was time to get that cover off. I got up off the sofa, slipped on my shoes, and went outside and into the woods. I was a bit apprehensive that hornets or a wild boar might appear, but neither did. Just some tiny birds, Japanese white-eyes, flitted right past me. I walked through the woods and went around behind the shrine. I removed the heavy stones and took off just one of the boards.
“Mr. Menshiki!” I called out into the gap. But there was no response. What I could see of the hole from the gap was pitch dark, and I couldn’t make out his figure there.
“Mr. Menshiki!” I called again. But again no answer. I was getting worried. Maybe he’d vanished, like the mummy that should have been there had vanished. I knew it wasn’t logically possible, but still I was seriously concerned.
I quickly removed another board, and then another. Finally the sunlight reached to the bottom of the pit. And I could see Menshiki’s outline seated there.
“Mr. Menshiki, are you okay?” I asked, relieved.
He looked up, as if finally coming to, and gave a small nod. He covered his face with his hands, as if the light was too bright.
“I’m fine,” he answered quietly. “I’d just like to stay here for a little longer. It’ll take time for my eyes to adjust to the light.”
“It’s been exactly an hour. If you’d like to stay there longer I could put the cover on again.”
Menshiki shook his head. “No, this is enough. I’m okay now. I can’t stay any longer here. It might be too dangerous.”
“Too dangerous?”
“I’ll explain later,” Menshiki said. He stroked his face hard with both hands, as if rubbing something away from his skin.
* * *
—
Five minutes later he slowly got to his feet and clambered up the metal ladder I’d let down. Once again at ground level he brushed the dirt off his pants and looked up at the sky with narrowed eyes. The blue autumn sky was visible through the tree branches. For a long time he gazed lovingly at the sky. We lined up the boards and covered the hole as before, so no one would accidentally fall into it. Then we put the heavy stones on top. I memorized the position of the stones, so I’d know if anyone moved them. The ladder we left inside the pit.
“I didn’t hear the bell,” I said as we walked along.
Menshiki shook his head. “I didn’t shake it.”