“Was there some reason they didn’t want it made public?”
“It seems a fact that the incident did take place. Most of the people involved were Viennese college students, and they were all arrested and either executed or murdered. To seal their lips about the plot. One theory is that one of the resistance members was the daughter of a high-ranking Nazi official, and that’s why they kept it under wraps. But the facts aren’t clear. After the war there was some testimony given about it, but this was all circumstantial evidence, and it’s unsure whether any of it is reliable. By the way, the resistance group’s name was Candela. In Latin it means a candle shining in the darkness underground. The Japanese word for lantern—kantera—derives from this.”
“If all those involved in the plot were killed, that means the only survivor is Tomohiko Amada?”
“It does seem that way. Just before the end of the war, the Reich Main Security Office ordered that all secret documents relating to the incident be burned, and the plot was lost to the darkness of history. It would be nice if we could question Tomohiko Amada about the details of what took place, but that would be pretty difficult now.”
It would, I said. Up till now Tomohiko Amada had never spoken of the incident, and his memory had now sunk deep into the thick mud of oblivion.
I thanked Menshiki and hung up.
Even while his memory was still solid, Tomohiko Amada had maintained a firm silence about the incident. He must have had some private reasons for why he couldn’t talk about it. Or perhaps when he left the country the authorities had forced him to agree to never speak of it. In place of maintaining a lifelong silence, though, he’d left the painting Killing Commendatore. He’d entrusted that painting with the truth he was forbidden to ever speak about, and his feelings about what had occurred.
* * *
—
The next evening Menshiki called again. Mariye Akikawa would be coming to my house the following Sunday at ten a.m., he reported. As he’d mentioned, her aunt would be accompanying her. Menshiki wouldn’t be there that first day.
“I’ll come by after some time has passed, after she’s gotten used to posing for you. I’m sure she’ll be nervous at first, and it’s better that I don’t bother you,” he said.
His voice was a little unsteady. That tone put me on edge as well.
“Yes, that sounds like a good idea,” I replied.
“Come to think of it, though, I might be the one who’s the most nervous,” Menshiki said after a little hesitation, sounding as if he were revealing a secret. “I think I said this before, but I’ve never been near Mariye Akikawa, not even once. I’ve only seen her from a distance.”
“But if you wanted to get close to her, you could have created an opportunity to do so.”
“Yes, of course. If I’d wanted to I could have made any number of opportunities.”
“But you didn’t. Why not?”
Uncharacteristically, Menshiki took time to choose his words. He said, “I couldn’t predict how I’d feel, or what I’d say, if I was close to her. That’s why I’ve intentionally stayed away. I’ve been satisfied with being on the other side of the valley, secretly watching her from a distance with high-powered binoculars. Is that a warped way of thinking?”
“Not particularly,” I said. “But I do find it a bit odd. But now you’ve decided to actually meet her at my house. Why?”
Menshiki was silent for a time, and then spoke. “That’s because you’re here, and can act as an intermediary.”
“Me?” I said in surprise. “Why me? Not to be rude or anything, but you hardly know me. And I don’t know you well either. We only met about a month ago. We live across the valley from each other, but our lifestyles couldn’t be more different. So why did you trust me that much? And tell me your secrets? You don’t seem the type to give away your inner feelings so easily.”
“Exactly. Once I have a secret I lock it away in a safe and swallow the key. I don’t seek advice from others or reveal things to them.”
“Then how come—I’m not sure how to put this—you’ve confided in me?”
Menshiki was silent for a time. “It’s hard to explain, but I got the feeling the first day I met you that it’s all right to let my guard down. Call it intuition. And that feeling only grew stronger after I saw my portrait. I decided, This is a trustworthy person. Someone who would accept my way of seeing things, my way of thinking. Even if I have a slightly odd and twisted way of seeing and thinking.”
A slightly odd and twisted way of seeing and thinking, I thought.
“I’m really happy you’d say that,” I said. “But I don’t think I understand you as a person. You go way beyond the scope of my comprehension. Frankly, many things about you simply surprise me. Sometimes I’m at a loss for words.”
“But you never try to judge me. Am I right?”
That was true, now that he’d said it. I’d never tried to apply some standard to judge Menshiki’s words and actions. I didn’t praise them, and didn’t criticize them. They simply left me, as I’d said, at a loss for words.
“You might be right,” I admitted.
“And you remember when I went down to the bottom of that hole? When I was down there by myself for an hour?”
“Of course.”
“It never even occurred to you to leave me there forever, in that dark, dank hole. Right?”
“True. But that sort of idea wouldn’t occur to a normal person.”
“Are you sure about that?”
What could I say? I couldn’t imagine what lay deep in other people’s minds.
“I have another request,” Menshiki said.
“And what is that?”
“It’s about next Sunday, when Mariye and her aunt come to your place,” Menshiki said. “I’d like to watch your house then with my binoculars, if you don’t mind?”
“I don’t mind,” I said. I mean, the Commendatore had watched my girlfriend and me, right beside us, when we’d had sex. Having someone watch my terrace from afar wasn’t about to faze me now.
“I thought it’d be best to tell you in advance,” Menshiki said, as if excusing himself.
I was impressed all over again how strangely honest he was. We finished talking and hung up the phone. I’d been holding the phone tightly against me, and the spot above my ear ached.
* * *
—
The next morning I received a certified letter. I signed the receipt the mailman held out for me, and got a large envelope. Getting it didn’t exactly make me feel cheerful. My experience is that certified mail is never good news.