“This is fine—let me out here.”
The taxi had arrived in Ginza.
“You can just stop here. The roads in Ginza are all one way, it’ll be too
much of a hassle. I’m sure you don’t know the streets.”
The elderly driver attempted to pull over, but in the swarm of cars he was
unable to find a stopping place. He continued unsteadily out into the
intersection. He attempted to turn right and slipped along surrounded by the
noise of the horns of the cars behind them for nearly sixty feet.
Looking with relief at the Street outside, Hirata was amazed to see that it
was Namiki Street.
“How much?”
“One hundred fifty yen.”
He was surprised at the cheap fare. Was the meter broken? Or had the
driver misread it?
He groped about in his pants pocket for change, but perhaps because his
body was still numb from his sense of the danger he had been in, he
couldn’t find any. He was still feeling unsettled when a young woman
wearing pants approached the car window.
“Hey, it’s illegal to stop here. You’ll get in trouble.”
The young woman spoke with a languid gentleness. Somehow Hirata
had the impression that she was smiling, but neither her eyes nor any other
part of her face actually smiled.
Still, the young woman’s smile helped him. His encounter there with the
particular sense of harmony and good will that women emit caused his
suspicions of Takako to vanish.
“Yes, yes—of course.”
