The Pearl Diver (19 page)

In the next instant, a hand was over my mouth, a hand that was half metal. An arm wrapped around my waist and I was being dragged to the car. I kicked the legs of whoever was holding me, and he swore before dumping me in the car’s open trunk. Then the trunk lid slammed down. The engine roared again, and we were off.

When you pack a car trunk, there’s never enough room, no matter how many cubic feet the sales brochure insists are there. When you’re lying inside one, it’s a similar phenomenon. I was not a claustrophobic person—how could I be, and have lived successfully in Tokyo?—but in that car trunk, I was terrified. The darkness was overwhelming, and the space was so small it felt like a coffin. Late-model cars like Hugh’s Lexus had a glow-in-the-dark catch that you could pull to open a trunk if you were trapped inside, but there was nothing like that in this car. All I could find was a coil of rope.

Rope. What was its purpose? My panic mixed with overwhelming regret. I wouldn’t be lying in the trunk of a car if I hadn’t been stupid enough to walk back to Adams-Morgan after midnight. And of course, I wouldn’t have walked if I’d been more patient about catching a cab. And finally, I wouldn’t even have been out on the street at this hour if I had taken the ride home with Aunt Norie that Jiro had offered.

Kendall had been kidnapped and had lived, I reminded myself. She’d vanished, and even though nobody had seen her get snatched, she’d survived. And these might be the same people. I
didn’t understand how they’d done it, though—if they’d shadowed me in their car from H Street, they couldn’t have known where I’d go, once I’d entered the subway system. No, the situation had to be simpler. The men had spotted me somewhere along my Connecticut route, and grabbed me when I’d turned onto T. They’d targeted me for a reason that had nothing to do with Kendall Johnson or restaurants.

I felt myself over and touched a bulge in my skirt pocket. For a second I thought it was my new cell phone, but I remembered too soon that the gift meant to keep me safe was still in the apartment, where I’d left it to charge its battery. In my pocket was the Japanese tool I’d used to try to fix the vanity. It had a sharp end, but I couldn’t realistically think that it could do much—except, maybe, poke out an eye if someone was right on top of me. But of course, there were two of them.

I was so lucky they hadn’t taken the time to bind my hands. I undid my watch, which had a glow-in-the-dark face if you pressed the right button. Because I’d need both hands to use the
kuginuki
in the manner that I was planning, I balanced the watch sideways between my elbow and the hard surface of the car trunk. A tiny aqua circle of light cheered me. I could only illuminate the trunk in sections, but I no longer felt that I was in a coffin.

The car was going fast now. Very fast. The noise level rose to a roar, and I thought we were on a freeway. Bumpy. It had to be 295, the District’s freeway, not 495, which was owned and maintained by the states of Virginia and Maryland. Of course, 295 did cross over into Virginia, eventually. Perhaps that was where I was going.

Nobody was going to look for me there. Nobody was going to look for me, period. I had to get myself out of the trunk. Even as I started working, I was filled with foreboding. I might undo the latch, but I couldn’t jump out of a car going eighty miles an hour on a freeway.

I breathed. The space was so close around me.

I’m going to get out.

I broke up the words between each of my long breaths.
I…am…going…to…get…out.

It was good that I was using the
kuginuki
while the car was going fast, because they couldn’t hear the clicks and scraping noises I was making. No matter how many ways I moved the knife, the lock held fast. I didn’t want to break the latch, just trip it so that it opened neatly. And then, when I got the trunk unlatched, I’d have to keep it held down tight, so they wouldn’t know what I’d done. Finally, the jump. And afterward? I couldn’t rule out the possibility that they’d come after me. But I would be harder to find in the dark. I could crawl somewhere and hide.

Between the exacting work, and the stress, I was soon wet with sweat. I dropped the
kuginuki
, and when I moved to retrieve it, the watch was jarred and its light went out. Now I realized that my feet had gone to sleep. This condition had crept up on me occasionally when I was sitting in a classic Japanese
seiza
position. I began to wiggle my toes, desperate to get the blood flow back. I’d need my feet to run.

Was it my imagination, or had the car slowed? I had no concept of time. Now I was beginning to lose my perception of speed. My fingers closed around the tool, its edge pricking my thumb as I picked it up. I got my watch back in position, turned on its light, and resumed my work on the latch.

The car was picking up speed again, but not as fast as it had been on the freeway. And I could hear sounds of other cars passing us. It might be a suburban road.

Finally, I felt it. The latch turned all the way. I’d opened it, I could tell, because I could lift the lid. I held it open just a sliver to see the dark sky outside, and to hear the rush of the car over the road. If I let go of the trunk lid, it would fly right open.

Keeping one hand on it, I began to ready myself, turning my body so that I was on my hands and knees. My feet weren’t completely in working order yet, but I would move them.

How fast was the car going? Thirty, maybe forty miles per
hour? There were other cars around now. There might not be any, in a little while.

I thought about Kendall one last time. She’d been left alone in the car trunk, unharmed. But my situation was different. I couldn’t trust them to leave me alone, and I couldn’t trust anyone to rescue me. I put on my watch again and looked at the time. We’d been driving for almost an hour. We had to be at least fifty miles from Washington. Far was not good.

The car turned again, knocking me against the inside of the trunk. Another street. They were proceeding toward their destination. I took a deep breath and lifted the trunk a fraction. I’d thought we were on a smaller road, and I was right. It was a double-lane country road with farm fencing on either side. No streetlights, and no car lights behind me. Still, it would only get quieter. They were driving into the country, not the city.

I lifted the lid all the way and moved into a crouch. There was no more time to think. I launched myself out of the trunk.

I seemed so slow, compared to the car. I was free, for a few seconds, soaring through the air, tucking my head in position for an airborne forward roll. I’d flown off a bike once this way and survived.

I circled through the air too quickly and hit the ground on my left side, landing on the
kuginuki
that I’d returned to my pocket. Oh, God. It hurt so much. I wanted to stay there forever, but I couldn’t. Either they’d come back for me, or someone would hit me. I was bleeding. I couldn’t tell if I’d broken anything.

Already, in the back of my mind, the pain was squeezed out by a terrifying sound, that of squealing brakes. Whether the sound came from ahead of me or behind, I didn’t know.

I heard a rumble of voices. The rhythm felt Southern, but the sound was still far enough away that I couldn’t guess race or even gender.

I rolled over on my belly and began to crawl. Now the pain was radiating out from my belly, a strange cramping so intense I had to clench my teeth not to cry out.

A circle of light was crossing the road.
Don’t see me,
I pleaded.
Let me disappear into the blackness of the earth
. My turtleneck was black, and so was my hair. The zebra skirt had been torn all the way up to my waist. I curled into a ball, covering my legs as best I could.

The pain from my fall had intensified. Now I couldn’t raise my arms or legs. I felt myself lifting out of my body, looking down. A small Japanese woman, left along the side of the road like a wounded animal. We were one and the same. Thirty years separated us, but time, as I’d learned tonight, meant nothing at all.

The light found me. I felt it hot on my head, and my back. I didn’t bother to lift my head. I knew they’d gotten me. There was a hubbub of voices, now all men’s. They were black and white and Southern and Northern. More than two men, worse than I’d thought.

For a split second, I came back down to earth, and I saw boots: not fashionable women’s boots like mine, but the big, steel-toed ones, the kind that men wore to do construction work. The horror of the boots was the last thing I remembered before I felt hands turning my body, and I decided not to think anymore.

“She is waking.”

I opened my eyes. I could see out of only one, and all I beheld was a fluorescent light that turned the white sheets covering me even brighter. The glare was overwhelming, so I closed myself against it, again.

The same woman’s voice spoke again, in Japanese. “You’re here with us. You’re safe now, Rei-chan. You will be fine.”

I opened my working eye again and deduced the blurry outline of a middle-aged Japanese woman. Was it Sadako? Even though the words were comforting, I knew the worst had happened. I was alive, but I was in whatever hell was reserved for Japanese women who ran astray in America.

“She doesn’t recognize me, Hugh-san,” the voice said.

Hugh? Now I was really confused. I forced my eye open again and saw him, out of focus.

I opened my mouth. How dry it was. “Where,” I said, unable to finish the rest of my question.

“You’re here with Norie and me in a hospital in Quantico, Virginia,” Hugh said. “You were smashed up pretty badly. A group of Marines riding to their base found you lying on the road. They called for an ambulance, which brought you here.”

Black boots. I’d thought that my time was up when I’d seen them, but they’d really been on the feet of the men who had saved me.

“I was taken,” I said. “A car. Two men.” I stopped. My tongue was working so slowly. Painkillers, I guessed.

“You can tell the police when you’re ready,” Hugh said, holding a glass of water for me. I sucked down the coldness greedily.

“What do they say happened?” I was starting to get my voice back.

“I haven’t heard it from them, but the police told me they saw your body first, and then saw the car ahead. It took off when they stopped.”

“They saved my life.” Despite my grogginess, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. Marines. I immediately regretted the many times I had been antimilitary. If there wasn’t a military, there wouldn’t have been this group of sharp-eyed Marines who had decided to stop and help me.

“They did,” Hugh said. Why was his voice so sober?

“Rei-chan, I should never have let you go home by yourself.” I heard Aunt Norie’s voice again. “I cared for you in Japan, but I did not care properly for you here. You will not forgive me, ever. I am not worthy of it.”

I shook my head.

“Norie, could you do me a favor and find Rei’s nurse, please? I want her to bring an extra pillow.”

“Of course,” my aunt answered. I heard the sound of a door closing.

“Rei, darling, I’m so very sorry. For all the reasons.” Hugh put his face against mine. “If I hadn’t gone out to stay in Potomac, you would have gotten home safely.”

I shook my head. “It was meant to happen.”

“What do you mean? That the bastards would have come after you another night, that they’d marked you as their target the way they had Kendall?”

“I don’t know. It felt like fate.” I couldn’t explain the strange feeling I’d had while lying on the road, that Sadako’s and my destinies
had intertwined. I didn’t believe in ghosts, but at that moment, I felt as if I’d seen her.

“I won’t accept that it was meant to be. Never.” Hugh’s voice was hard. “Rei, I have to tell you something before your aunt returns. During your—abduction—a very sad thing happened.”

“You mean, you and Kendall.” I stopped, too depressed to spell it out.

“What about Kendall and me?” Hugh sounded puzzled.

“I thought…maybe…you…got together.” Each word was so hard to utter.

“Your wonderful cousin,” Hugh said dryly. “When I arrived at her place, she was having a teleconference with some Snowden campaigners, oblivious of me, not to mention the bairns, who were tearing the house apart. I helped the au pair put them to bed. Then Win returned, drunk as a skunk, and I had to put him to bed. I was frankly exhausted at the end of it all and tucked myself into the guest room without bothering to phone you good night. I’m sorry about that.”

Hugh had sounded so normal and believable that I was filled with remorse. “I practically drove you into staying there. There’s no need to apologize.”

“The thing that happened.” Hugh paused, as if he didn’t want to go on. “It happened to you.”

I thought about how I couldn’t see. “Did I lose an eye?”

“No. Your right cornea was scratched in the fall, which is why it’s got a temporary bandage on it. That’ll heal. It’s—oh, hell.”

I lay still, waiting. How hurt was I? Was it paralysis? Would I never walk again?

“The baby’s gone. You miscarried during the fall.”

“Baby.” I said. My one eye stared at him, shocked. “How could that be?”

“You were hemorrhaging during the transport to the hospital. That’s when the tissue came out, the beginnings of our…” Hugh’s voice trailed off.

“Oh, Hugh.” So that had been the wracking pain as I lay on the
road: the journey of a child, breaking apart and pouring out of my body.

“Did you know?” Hugh asked. “We haven’t had any time alone together since I came back. I thought maybe you did suspect something, but didn’t have a chance to tell me.”

“I didn’t know. If I had known I wouldn’t have jumped—”

Hugh sighed heavily. “But if you hadn’t jumped, you might not be alive today. And if that had happened, I don’t know how I could have gone on.”

“Who knows if they would even have done anything to me?” I was beginning to hyperventilate. “Kendall waited to be rescued. She did the sensible thing.”

“You were brave to get out the way you did. It’s just that—my heart is breaking,” Hugh said. “I never thought I would feel this way. I didn’t know about the baby, I didn’t have any time to dream about it or get—attached—but I still feel so…”

“I was stupid not to know.” I’d gained weight, I no longer had the energy to run well, and I had no taste for wine. Unconsciously, I’d been protecting the baby—protecting it until the moment came when I killed it.

“Usually there’s a sign,” Hugh said.

“I had a period about six weeks back.” True, it had been light to the point of near invisibility, but I had just chalked that up to stress. There had been a lot. First, the preparation for the restaurant opening, then Kendall’s kidnapping, and finally, my aunt’s surprise visit. That raised a new question. “How much does Norie know?”

“Not everything,” Hugh said. “She knows about the eye, and that you have multiple fractures of your fingers, and that you took a hard fall. But I didn’t tell her about the baby, and I asked the doctors to keep it private. Actually, there are new hospital privacy laws that are extremely strict. Even though Norie is your aunt, the only way either of us could be at your bedside is through permission of your parents, who, as you already know, are in Fiji. I managed to reach them. They’re in shock over the whole thing, but very glad that you’re alive.”

“How long do I have to stay in the hospital?” The longer I stayed in, I knew, the worse I’d feel about my life.

“They may let you out today. Then you’re supposed to treat yourself gently for about a week. I’m taking leave from work and not letting you out of my sight until you’re completely mended. I told Norie I was moving in to protect you both, and she didn’t utter a word of protest.”

I smiled. “So you don’t have to live at the gym or the office anymore.”

“No. And I’m really sorry—sorry that I was so hell-bent, last night, on getting to bed at a decent hour. If I hadn’t gone to your cousin’s, this never would have happened.”

Hugh was interrupted by the sound of a door opening and my aunt Norie’s voice. “Rei-chan, I have your pillow. And one of the soldiers is here to see you, if you feel well enough.”

“Can you bear it?” Hugh asked in a low voice.

“Yes. I must thank him.” I felt dazed again, like I was moving in and out of two worlds.

“The doctors said no more than two visitors at a time, so I’ll leave.”

Hugh departed, and I tried to focus with my one good eye on the tall man in camouflage standing in front of me, his hat in his hands.

“I’m Lance Corporal Henderson, ma’am. I was with the group who stopped. Just wanted to see that you were okay.” From what I could see of him, he looked to be in his early twenties—a gangly blond with a faint haze of hair over his head. He was like a spring chick, all stretched out.

“I’m very grateful,” I said. “Can you tell me how it happened?”

“Our driver had the brights on. At first we thought you were a dog—because you weren’t that big, see—and my buddy, he really loves dogs, so he wanted to stop. There was an argument because it was already two in the morning, and we’d have to muster at sunrise. But then my buddy saw what looked like clothing, so we had to stop.”

“Tell me about the car I fell from,” I said.

“It was a sedan with its trunk open. The car was going backward, fast, heading in the direction of where you were lying. But when we stopped, the car changed direction and took off. I guess that was the car that dropped you, huh?”

“I dropped myself,” I said. “I don’t suppose you saw the license plate?”

“No, ma’am. I’m sorry. We didn’t put two and two together, that you might have come from that car, until later, when we were giving the report to the police.”

“I understand. I’m really grateful.”

“Well, we’re pretty disappointed we didn’t get those guys who did it.” The lance corporal bowed his head for a minute. “We could have taken them down, you know, if we’d seen them.”

“You saved my life. I think that’s enough for one night,” I said.

“Thank you so much,” Norie said. “I think she is becoming tired.”

My aunt sat by my side after the Marine left. She didn’t say anything, which was a relief.

As my aunt’s hand slowly warmed my cold one, I thought about how every Japanese town seemed to have at least one temple with a special garden that held small statues of Jizo-sama, the Buddhist guardian of children who die too early. Women would buy a small stone statue, and then dress it in hand-sewn or knitted or crocheted jackets and hats. They laid before it offerings of fruit and flowers. The mothers visited their child-guardians as long as they needed to, sometimes until a second child was born, in other cases, for the rest of their lives.

But there were no gardens of stone babies in the United States. Even if there were such a place, I couldn’t set foot in it. I had never known my child, never worried about it, never loved it. And now it was too late.