garage and got into her car. Atsuko’s car was a moss-green Marginal.
On arriving at the Institute, she pulled into the covered parking lot. The figure of a man stood by the glass door at the entrance to the building, hiding his face in the shadows. It was the young reporter who’d asked such awkward questions at the press conference. As soon as he saw Atsuko, he forced a smile and bowed apologetically. “I’m really sorry for my rudeness the other day.”
“Oh! Were you waiting for me?” Atsuko said with a smile that would have charmed the hardest of hearts. “Was there something you wanted to ask?”
“Er, well, no, something I wanted to tell you actually,” he said, glancing around. “Well, you could see it as my way of apologizing …”
Atsuko knew instinctively that the young man’s feelings toward her had changed, for whatever reason. Either that, or he was an exceptionally good actor for one so young.
“What is it then? You won’t be allowed in. You’ll have to tell me here. Sorry.”
“You’ll hear me out then?” The reporter had obviously expected to be treated more dismissively. He now produced his business card with a look of relief and gratitude. “Thank you so much. My name’s Matsukane. I’m with the Morning News . Well, anyway, it’s about this ‘Paprika’, you see …” Atsuko showed no reaction at all, but the young journalist added hurriedly: “No, I won’t ask anything about her real identity, as I said before. But now journalists from certain newspapers, not just my own, have heard a rumor that Paprika was seen just recently in Roppongi. So then, well, I wanted to say you might like to be careful about that …”
“Well!” Atsuko said with a little laugh. “Why would I possibly be concerned with that?”
“Yes. Exactly. Absolutely. Why would you?” The young reporter smiled ambiguously and looked up at the roof of the parking garage. “But what I meant to say is that, well, if you did know Paprika, you might like to warn her to be more careful, that’s all.”
“Well, that’s very kind of you. And why do you tell me this behind your colleagues’ backs?”
The man suddenly looked serious. “To apologize for the other day, as I said just now. But also … Well, you know …” He trailed off into silence.
“No. I don’t know. What?” Still smiling, Atsuko invited him to continue. “Are you going to say who told you all that nonsense?”
“Well, it’s about that, yes.” Matsukane looked down at his shoes, as if he were desperate to reveal the truth but couldn’t quite bring himself to say it. “But I think we should talk about it some other time. After I’ve discovered more of the details. Anyway …” The young reporter was clearly driven by a strong sense of justice. He straightened his posture and looked Atsuko directly in the eye. “Please be careful.”
“Careful of what?”
“Look … I’ll be back. OK? I’ll be back.” Suddenly spotting another car, he crouched down and crept along the wall toward the exit.
What had the reporter discovered that would urge him to warn her? So many questions went through Atsuko’s mind as she pushed the glass door open.
12
Atsuko went straight to her laboratory. There she found a swarthy young therapist called Hashimoto, a contemporary of both Osanai and Tsumura, sitting deep in conversation with Nobue Kakimoto. So much so that their knees were almost touching. The conversation obviously involved Atsuko, for no sooner had she entered than Hashimoto rose hurriedly – though, being a therapist, he was of course able to cloak his surprise behind a façade of nonchalance.
“Sorry. I’m in the way,” he said disingenuously.
“Same as always, isn’t it?” countered Atsuko. “No need to stand on ceremony, as they say.”
“No, I’d better be on my rounds.” Hashimoto even managed a glance at his watch as he left the room.
Nobue cast an unusually critical eye at Atsuko as she donned
On arriving at the Institute, she pulled into the covered parking lot. The figure of a man stood by the glass door at the entrance to the building, hiding his face in the shadows. It was the young reporter who’d asked such awkward questions at the press conference. As soon as he saw Atsuko, he forced a smile and bowed apologetically. “I’m really sorry for my rudeness the other day.”
“Oh! Were you waiting for me?” Atsuko said with a smile that would have charmed the hardest of hearts. “Was there something you wanted to ask?”
“Er, well, no, something I wanted to tell you actually,” he said, glancing around. “Well, you could see it as my way of apologizing …”
Atsuko knew instinctively that the young man’s feelings toward her had changed, for whatever reason. Either that, or he was an exceptionally good actor for one so young.
“What is it then? You won’t be allowed in. You’ll have to tell me here. Sorry.”
“You’ll hear me out then?” The reporter had obviously expected to be treated more dismissively. He now produced his business card with a look of relief and gratitude. “Thank you so much. My name’s Matsukane. I’m with the Morning News . Well, anyway, it’s about this ‘Paprika’, you see …” Atsuko showed no reaction at all, but the young journalist added hurriedly: “No, I won’t ask anything about her real identity, as I said before. But now journalists from certain newspapers, not just my own, have heard a rumor that Paprika was seen just recently in Roppongi. So then, well, I wanted to say you might like to be careful about that …”
“Well!” Atsuko said with a little laugh. “Why would I possibly be concerned with that?”
“Yes. Exactly. Absolutely. Why would you?” The young reporter smiled ambiguously and looked up at the roof of the parking garage. “But what I meant to say is that, well, if you did know Paprika, you might like to warn her to be more careful, that’s all.”
“Well, that’s very kind of you. And why do you tell me this behind your colleagues’ backs?”
The man suddenly looked serious. “To apologize for the other day, as I said just now. But also … Well, you know …” He trailed off into silence.
“No. I don’t know. What?” Still smiling, Atsuko invited him to continue. “Are you going to say who told you all that nonsense?”
“Well, it’s about that, yes.” Matsukane looked down at his shoes, as if he were desperate to reveal the truth but couldn’t quite bring himself to say it. “But I think we should talk about it some other time. After I’ve discovered more of the details. Anyway …” The young reporter was clearly driven by a strong sense of justice. He straightened his posture and looked Atsuko directly in the eye. “Please be careful.”
“Careful of what?”
“Look … I’ll be back. OK? I’ll be back.” Suddenly spotting another car, he crouched down and crept along the wall toward the exit.
What had the reporter discovered that would urge him to warn her? So many questions went through Atsuko’s mind as she pushed the glass door open.
12
Atsuko went straight to her laboratory. There she found a swarthy young therapist called Hashimoto, a contemporary of both Osanai and Tsumura, sitting deep in conversation with Nobue Kakimoto. So much so that their knees were almost touching. The conversation obviously involved Atsuko, for no sooner had she entered than Hashimoto rose hurriedly – though, being a therapist, he was of course able to cloak his surprise behind a façade of nonchalance.
“Sorry. I’m in the way,” he said disingenuously.
“Same as always, isn’t it?” countered Atsuko. “No need to stand on ceremony, as they say.”
“No, I’d better be on my rounds.” Hashimoto even managed a glance at his watch as he left the room.
Nobue cast an unusually critical eye at Atsuko as she donned
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