but it will relieve my feelings. I am going to sprinkle these flies all over the bar in the yakusa nightclub, tonight some time.'
'Right now,' de Gier said, 'there may be nobody around. It's still early in the afternoon. I'll help you If you like.'
'You are too conspicuous,' Dorin said. 'Thanks anyway. And you are right about the time. I'll go as a plumber. It's a disguise I have used before, and I have some affinity with the trade. My uncle is a plumber and I used to go with him on jobs when I was a kid. I have the right clothes with me, and one of my bags is a plumber's toolbox. I'll find a few pipes which I can keep under my arm.'
'Yes,' the commissaris said. 'You can go through the back door. Can you pick locks?'
Dorin nodded.
'There's something else,' de Gier said. 'I am going sailing with a yakusa girl tomorrow, on Lake Biwa. The commissaris thinks you might be around too, in another boat or a plane.'
'A boat,' Dorin said. 'I can get one easily. We'll discuss the details after I come back, and if I don't come back you can phone the emergency number you have. You should phone it anyway if I don't come back. They'll know what to do. But perhaps you shouldn't go sailing tomorrow. I telephoned my superiors in Tokyo this morning, and they think we know enough. They are prepared to give the word to have both the nightclub here and the daimyo's castle raided. We don't really need a well-prepared case. I am not a policeman and my superiors aren't either. They have enough power to wipe out the daimyo and his tribe. They didn't have it before, because the daimyo has friends in Tokyo too, government rats, rats with sticky paws, but their paws are drying up. The daimyo is losing his strength. The heroin connection to Europe was important to him, and it's gone now. The art business is only a sideline, but now that we have proof we could approach a few reporters and get the magazines to do illustrated stories. JAPANESE HOLY TREASURES GOING WEST. The government rats don't want to be associated with a juicy scandal and the magazines could make it very juicy. Unfortunately, we still don't know the identity of the daimyo.'
'So how do you know you have caught him when you raid his castle?' the commissaris asked.
'We'll raze it. I'll bring in special troops, the Snow Monkeys of my own regiment. We don't have a standing army anymore, but there are still warriors in Japan, volunteers, hand-picked, well trained.'
'Snow Monkeys?' the commissaris asked.
Dorin smiled. He looked much better now. The bags of flies stood leaning against the table, forgotten. His eyes were sparkling.
'Snow Monkeys, the monkeys of Hokkaido, our big island in the North. They are macaques, short-tailed monkeys that can live anywhere. In Africa they are short-haired, but our variety has grown fluffy gray coats, and they walk in single file through the snow. When they get too cold they warm up by bathing in the hot springs, and while their bottoms are almost boiled the snow still sits on their heads. They survived even during the times that we hunted them, and they can act in groups and on their own. Japanese have never been known for their individual strength. The American soldiers would try to shoot our officers, for they knew they could pick off the soldiers one by one afterward. But the Snow Monkeys can make their own decisions, although they are disciplined enough to obey orders. And they have retained some of the old samurai values. They won't surrender.'
'What do they believe in?' de Gier asked.
Dorin shrugged. 'I don't know what my fellow officers base their guidance on, but I have never encouraged any idealism in my own men. I try not to believe in anything myself. Ultimately there is nothing, and it is better to believe in nothing from the start. But it takes great courage not to believe. My own life is continuous proof. Anything upsets me, even dead flies. But I try.'
'And so do the Snow Monkeys,' the commissaris said. 'If they attack the palace they will destroy it completely, I imagine, and the daimyo with it, if he happens to be in. What sort of weapons do your men use, Dorin?'
'They are familiar with most weapons, but their main training is with the American M-16 automatic rifle, the Uzzi submachine gun and the Walther pistol. I would like them to use tanks or machine-gun carriers when they attack the castle, but the roads are too narrow and the yakusa will see them coming. I think I'll have them flown in with helicopters and supply them with jeeps. They can use small mortars for blasting the compounds of the castle, and the helicopters can gun anyone down who shows his face. There will also be a bit of bombing, and the men can rush the place once the bombs have exploded. It should be over in half an hour at the most. The palace may have escape tunnels, but they will have to come up somewhere, so I can have roadblocks at various strategic points. There aren't too many roads and we have good maps; the maps show the mountain paths too. Some of the Snow Monkeys are in the Rokko Mountains right now, disguised as tourists. So there is really no need for you to take any more risks. Maybe it would be foolish to go further. The yakusa haven't guessed who we are, but they may one day, tomorrow perhaps.'
'Or today,' de Gier said, 'while you are sprinkling the dead flies about in their nightclub. I am rather looking forward to my outing on Lake Biwa tomorrow. What do you think, sir?'
The commissaris got up and took off his kimono. He put his right leg in his trousers and almost lost his balance.
'I am feeling peckish. I am going out to have a tempura dinner in one of the stalls of the market. If either of you two wants to accompany me you are welcome. I don't know about going on really. Dorin is our host and protector. We are on loan to the government of Japan, and Dorin is our connection with that government. If he thinks the yakusa should be wiped out in their lair, by short-tailed apes who like to boil themselves alive in hot springs… well… good luck to them, I say. We are only a couple of smelly barbarians from a faraway swamp.'
Dorin, whose face had clouded when the commissaris had started his preamble, was grinning broadly.
'But I would prefer to go on for a day or two,' the commissaris added, 'personally I mean. Maybe we'll have a chance to find out who the daimyo is.'
'O.K.,' Dorin said. 'I am off to sprinkle flies, and we'll discuss our plans for the picnic on Lake Biwa when I come back. You two can eat your tempuras. Get some good shrimps in them, select them yourselves. The restaurant owners like their clients to show an interest in what they are going to eat. And stay away from the green mustard this time. I have a gaijin friend in Tokyo who had to drink milk for a year; the mustard burned ulcers into his stomach. It is full of ginger concentrate and horseradish. It doesn't just make you sneeze.'
De Gier sighed, relieved, when Dorin had left the room. 'Good thing you put in that bit about smelly barbarians, sir. He didn't like the quote about short-tailed apes. He had said it himself, of course, but you were hurting his vanity when you repeated his own words. Strange that he has any vanity left, don't you think? It's the first time I saw it.'
'Our Dorin is a very evolved human being,' the commissaris said, still trying to struggle into his trousers, which were weighed down by the pistol strapped to the belt. 'He'll be an angel in his next life, or a bodhisattva, as the Daidharmaji priests call them. But angels are vain too, and not only Lucifer.'
'Gabriel,' de Gier said. 'If Dorin gets us to the plane home I will call him Gabriel. We've got too many odds against us.'
'Do you mind?' the commissaris asked.
'No, sir. But I have nothing to go back for.'
'You have,' the commissaris said, 'and you should find out about it. Time is short, sergeant. You will be a graybeard soon, doing crossword puzzles in an overheated room in a home for retired policemen.'
De Gier looked up.
'Never mind,' the commissaris said, 'sometimes I get a little depressed.'
\\ 23 /////
I should be driving a jeep, De Gler thought, as he tried to avoid a particularly nasty pothole, or preferably a tracked vehicle. The car was bouncing along, rattling a little. He had opened and closed the right door a few times, but the rattle didn't go away. Yet it was undoubtedly in the right door. It hadn't rattled when he hired the car a week before. If they can build cars, he thought irritably, why can't they build roads? Roads are easier to build than cars, aren't they? The car hit another pothole, jumped free and slipped on a patch of mud. He screwed the wheel to
