20

Atsuko returned to her apartment in a state of fatigue. It was nearly midnight when she and Tokita had given up their search for Himuro and the DC Minis. Himuro lived with his parents in Saitama. Atsuko had phoned them, but he wasn’t there. She had gradually become convinced that he’d been locked away somewhere. She’d slipped the master key from the nightwatchman’s room and tried all the other rooms in the Institute, but Himuro was nowhere to be found.

Tokita had confirmed Atsuko’s fear about the DC Mini – it didn’t have a protective code to block unauthorized access. If word got out that they’d lost such a potentially dangerous device, there would be public outrage. For that reason, they could ill afford to take others into their confidence; their only option was to continue the search unaided.

Torataro Shima was their only conceivable ally. They decided to ask his advice the following morning. Unreliable as he was, he would surely understand the gravity of the situation once they’d explained it to him. He would surely keep it confidential. What’s more, a word from him would authorize them to search the wards on the fifth floor of the hospital, which were closely guarded and had been inaccessible that evening. This was the conclusion the pair had reached on their way back to the Institute apartments in Atsuko’s Marginal. Tokita lived with his mother on the fifteenth floor, in a large apartment with a fine view – the one directly below Atsuko’s.

As she soaked in a hot bath, Atsuko started to wonder if Himuro might actually be somewhere in the same building. He could have been taken to Osanai’s apartment, or Hashimoto’s, or one belonging to some other lackey of Seijiro Inui. Both Osanai and Hashimoto were single; their apartments were on the fifteenth and fourteenth floors. The senior members of the Institute staff who lived in the building had a tacit understanding that they would respect each other’s privacy. The unspoken rule was that they would keep away from each other’s apartments. Atsuko only spoke to Shima when they met at the Institute; she had never once visited his apartment, even though it was on the same floor as hers.

In any case, Shima was not the man she desperately wanted to meet and ask for guidance. It was Tatsuo Noda. He was the only person who sprang to mind as someone she could really depend on at this time. She was not overestimating his qualities simply because she’d started to fall in love with him. She even thought he could serve as the Institute’s next auditor. Atsuko didn’t know what qualifications were needed to fill such a post, but he was the type who would instantly spot anything untoward in the accounts. In fact, Atsuko thought she might propose this to Shima the very next day.

Above all, she wanted to open her heart to Noda, share her bag of troubles with him, ask his advice, borrow some of his wisdom. He could guide her in the ways of dealing effortlessly with all the complex relationships and internal conflicts at the Institute. She knew he would listen to her plea and extend a helping hand. Because he loved her.

No! Atsuko shook her head in denial.

That was exactly why she shouldn’t ask his advice. Had she not always depended on her own guile, her own wits, never those of others? Surely she could never do anything so pathetic as to ask the advice of a former patient. Noda had problems of his own. To take advantage of his feelings toward her and beg for his help, without a thought for those problems, would make her no better than those self-centered young women she observed all around her.

That notion acted like an alarm bell, set off by the realization that she would fall helplessly in love with Noda if she were to meet him again. She could ill afford that kind of entanglement in her current straits. Atsuko resolved to banish all thought of Noda from her mind forthwith.

The telephone rang in the living room. Phone calls at this hour were always from the media, or people related to the media. They were usually from people who’d called the Institute during the day and had been refused a connection, but knew that Atsuko would be home later that night. She wrapped herself in a bath towel and went to pick up the phone.

“Atsuko Chiba.”

“Ah – this is Tatsuo Noda.”

Unbelievable. The man she’d just banished from her mind was calling to say “You can’t do that!” In her state of fatigue, Atsuko had answered the call with the gravelly voice of an old woman. Noda didn’t seem to realize he was speaking to Paprika in person.

“You want Paprika? All right. She’ll be with you in a moment.” Now Atsuko was deliberately trying to sound old. She went back to the bathroom, dried herself properly and threw on her gown. If Noda didn’t know he’d been speaking to Paprika, who did he think she was? He must have seen the name Chiba outside the door to her apartment, and must have assumed it to be Paprika’s surname. Did he think the old woman was related to Nobel Prize candidate Atsuko Chiba? Did he know nothing about Atsuko at all? Or did he know the whole truth about everything?

Atsuko returned to the telephone, smiling to herself at the oddness of the situation and her undeniable feeling of joy.

“Hi there. Good to hear from you.” By now it was second nature for Atsuko to raise her voice half a tone when transformed into Paprika. The joy she felt at this unexpected call from Noda raised it another half tone. She expected him to ask who had answered the phone. What would she say if he did? That her mother was visiting, or something? But it didn’t matter. Noda was far too discreet to ask.

“Paprika – is it OK to talk? This might take a while …”

“It’s cool. I’m not doing anything.”

She wanted to ask where he was calling from, but followed his example and kept the thought to herself. She could hear no music or voices in the background; she thought he might be calling from his study at home.

“Good. It’s just that … there’s something I want to ask of you.”

“Yeah? What is it?”

“Well, first, I want to thank you. My condition seems completely cured. The personnel problems at work have all been resolved, and my old friend Toratake wasn’t dead after all.”

“Result!” Some of Noda’s exhilaration seemed to have rubbed off on Atsuko, or Paprika, as she now was. An almost dreamlike sensation of delight encircled her. “So you imagined the whole thing?”

“It seems so.” Without going into detail about how he’d discovered the truth of it all, Noda immediately moved on to the matter at hand. “Now, as it happens, I have a good friend, someone with a very important standing in society … I wondered if you’d be prepared to treat him.”

Noda had only known her as Paprika, and had clearly assumed that her job was to analyze people individually using PT devices. Atsuko could hardly blame him for that. Now she was caught in two minds. As Atsuko Chiba, she simply couldn’t afford the time. But as Paprika the dream detective, her alter ego, she could find no excuse to refuse his request.

“What’s wrong with him?” It would surely do no harm to ask. After all, his condition might be so mild that a personal appearance from Paprika wasn’t required.

“He says he can’t sleep and has lost his appetite. But I think there’s more to it than that. He seems terribly depressed. He won’t speak and his expression never changes. It doesn’t seem like a problem that’ll just go away.”

“Have you tried to cheer him up?”

“Well, I took him for a drink and got him to talk about it. But it was as if he was in a trance. And then he says there’s nothing particularly wrong with him …”

These were classic symptoms of clinical depression. A person at this level of depression will rarely react to diversions, attempts to console or encourage, nor even to persuasion or threats.

“I suppose your friend has no idea what triggered his condition?”

“No. But in my view as a layman, I wonder if being promoted had anything to do with it.”

“Promoted?”

“Yes. He was promoted to quite a high position recently.”

Clinical depression is usually caused by nothing at all – or at least, by something that would seem utterly insignificant to the normal way of thinking. That could include promotion at work, career advancement, or other events normally seen as cause for celebration.

“So … Do you think it could be clinical depression?” asked Noda.

Paprika had thought Noda’s explanation a little too technical for a layman. Now he revealed a more than competent grasp of the subject. “Sounds like it,” she replied. “But you didn’t tell him that, did you?”

“No.”

“Good. Of course, I couldn’t be sure without meeting him.”

There had recently been a spate of depression among management personnel sent on job assignments away from their families. Atsuko thought that Noda could have arbitrarily pinned this label on his friend. He might have been focusing only on the symptoms that confirmed his suspicion.

“Very true. I’d certainly be glad if you could meet him. But haven’t you got enough on your hands … Paprika?”

Atsuko said nothing. In her unusually vulnerable state, she felt like bursting into tears at Noda’s kind concern.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’m really glad you called. If it really is depression, there’s no room for complacency. He could even try to kill himself.”

Noda gasped.

“So – will you introduce him to me?” asked Atsuko.

Then she’d be able to meet Noda. Atsuko could hardly believe herself. Only a moment ago, she’d been deriding her own weakness in even thinking about asking for his help. But now, with the prospect of meeting him again, she suddenly felt like putting herself completely in his hands. She was happy to think that Noda had come to her for help. For then, her offer of advice didn’t have to be for her own indulgence.

“How about tomorrow evening?” said Noda. “Eleven o’clock at Radio Club. The same as the first time. You remember?”

Atsuko remembered the relaxed atmosphere of Radio Club, and suddenly saw it as a rare sanctuary from her daily troubles. “Yes, good idea. What’s your friend’s name?”

“Konakawa. Toshimi Konakawa. He’s a Chief Superintendent in the Metropolitan Police Department.”

It was Atsuko’s turn to gasp. “Superintendent? …”

“Chief Superintendent. One rank down from Chief Commissioner. In fact, he said he often deputizes for the Chief Commissioner these days.”

“That’s quite important …”

“As I said just now.”

Atsuko felt as if her knees were about to give way. She could hardly ask Noda’s advice about the Institute’s problems in front of such a person – especially as those problems might involve acts of a criminal nature. She certainly couldn’t mention the theft of the DC Minis, which could easily become a matter for the police. To make things worse, Paprika’s own activities had once been illegal.

“There’s something I ought to tell you,” Atsuko started. “I’m … a director at the Institute for Psychiatric Research.”

“Hmm. Thought so.”

“… And I’m not actually allowed to treat patients individually.” Noda laughed. “Is that all you’re worried about? Forget it. My friend isn’t as inflexible as you may think. After all, he’s the one who’d have most to lose if this went public!”

“Yes, I can understand that. So you’re saying he’s not obsessed with procedure and loyalty to his profession?”

“He’s a good man with plenty of common sense, and sensitive with it. He knows how to let his hair down, believe me. He’s helped me a lot since university days. Even since he joined the police, he’s given me a lot of advice about work-related problems. He’s even solved some of them.”

“A good man …”

Atsuko felt somewhat reassured, but couldn’t rid herself of her misgivings. The loss of the DC Minis could have serious implications for public safety. This man worked for the police, and if he found out about it, he could hardly turn a blind eye. No matter how broad-minded he was.