The GoldenCity

“Sparrow came here in the old days when this bar was called ‘Nirvana.’ Every night from nine until three, they had incense burning and a Zen master meditating over there.” Kotani motioned to one side of the room, now occupied by a tropical fish tank. “Sparrow said that the monk created a peaceful atmosphere.”

“And you were his friend?”

“I met him before he took his Harlequin name. Even in school, he was the brave one and I was the coward.”

Kotani stopped talking when the bartender served Hollis a bottle of warmed sake and a ceramic cup. The stereo system started playing a cut from Miles Davis’s “Kind of Blue” album.

“Listen, I need to-”

“I know what you want. Sparrow said a Harlequin needs ‘a horse, a scroll, a purse and sword.’ It is not wise to carry a sword in Japan unless you’re going to a kendo demonstration. But I think I can supply a handgun.”

“From the Yakuza?”

Kotani shook his head. “The Yakuza killed Sparrow. They work on contract with the Tabula and other powerful people in this country. They will not help a Harlequin.”

“What about the Jamaicans who work for the nightclubs?”

“Those men are gaijin with passport problems. Ask for a gun and they sell you to the police. What you need is someone flexible about the law. Japanese born in Peru and Brazil have come home. They look and talk like everyone else, but they see the world in a different way. My landlord, Senzo, is one of these people. He knows a man with a handgun. You can buy it tonight for 200,000 yen. Do you have money?”

Hollis nodded. “Will they come to this place?”

“We will meet them at a love hotel over in Shibuya. It is private there. No one will see us.” Kotani extended his hand. “I need my phone, please.”

Kotani dialed a number on the mobile and said a few words in Japanese. “It is okay,” he said after he switched off the phone. “They will meet us in an hour.”

Hollis sipped the warm sake and Kotani poured himself more vodka from the frozen bottle. “So why are you in Tokyo?” he asked. “There are no more Travelers in Japan. All of them were killed after Sparrow died. Japan isn’t waiting for the Vast Machine-it is already here.”

“I’m looking for someone that can talk to the dead. When Thorn was in Japan he met a spirit reader, a woman.”

“Yes. An Itako. The one Thorn met lives in the north.”

“How do I find her?”

Kotani poured some more vodka. His face was flushed and he spoke slowly, trying to pronounce each word. “Sparrow and I went to see this Itako. She said that Sparrow would die because of cowardice and I would die because of bravery.”

“And was she right?”

“Not for me. But Sparrow was killed by a coward-a Yakuza who shot him in the back.”

“I want to meet her.”

The bookseller took a sales slip and a ballpoint pen out of his tweed sports jacket. He wrote Japanese characters on the back of the slip and pushed it across the table. “Her name is Mitsuki. Take the train up to Hachinohe and show this to the people there. You will need a translator. On Sunday afternoon, we will go to Yoyogi-Kõen. That is when the different tribes-the zoku-are in the park. One of my old high school students named Hoshi Hirano will be there, dancing to rock and roll music. He will help you travel north if your plan sounds exciting.” Kotani smiled and raised his glass. “Hoshi is a rebel who needs a cause.”

“But you won’t come with us?”

“Never.” Kotani stood up awkwardly and almost knocked over the chair. “The Itako talks to ghosts. There are too many ghosts in my life.”

They left the bar, found a taxi, and asked the driver to take them to the Shibuya district. Kotani closed his eyes and lay back against the seat. The bottle of vodka had helped him overcome his fear.

“So what was Sparrow like?” Hollis asked. “Can you describe him?”

“In the last year of his life, he knew Yakuza were going to kill him. That knowledge made him very calm and gentle-except when he was fighting. I was a high school teacher. Sparrow used to sit in my apartment and help me correct my tests. Then we would go to the Nirvana bar and watch the Zen master try to break free of his body.”

“When did you start selling books?”

“When Sparrow was killed, I went to the hospital to claim his body. Someone took my photograph and it was in the newspapers. Underneath my picture were the words: ‘The Madman’s Friend.’ Someone cut out the photograph and pinned it up in the teacher’s room. I was humiliated. The students laughed at me. So I started selling books. I was no longer respectable so I could not get married.” Kotani made a fist and struck his chest. “I should have died with Sparrow that night, but I was a coward.”