afternoon. I spy on the guard lodge from behind a digger. Its window faces crossways, not up the ramp. I think if I stay against the wall I can reach it without being seen. Then, maybe, I can crawl past. The main danger is from any vehicles ascending the ramp as I am making my way down. Still, there were only three Cadillacs in the entire carpark. I think.
It works. I reach the lodge without being caught. On the guard’s TV I hear ‘And it’s a clash of the Giants and the Dragons in front of sixty thousand on this sweltering afternoon in the Dome as homeboy Enoki limbers up, and I can well imagine what must be going through the mind of that young battler at this moment in time’, and so on. I smell pork katsu and hear a microwave ping. I get down on my knees and scramble past – my foot slips in fine gravel, surely he must have heard, I carry on anyway, past his door, under the barrier arm and away into the dark, bracing myself for a shout and alarms. I dash behind a column, my heart percussion-capping. Nothing. He must be stone deaf. I am now an unauthorized intruder. Calm down. I am walking into a building to pick up a piece of unwanted refuse from a bin. The three Cadillacs are still parked in a row, which is not a good sign, but as long as my father is safe in the metal bin I can find a hiding place somewhere in the hotel and retrieve him when the coast is clear. Staying in the darkest wedges of shadow, I make my way to the portal door, and slip through. I sort of remember the way. The place is still deserted. Snake is wandering this maze of swinging doors, too. Grown to canoe length. I pass the toilet where Daimon and I were put on ice – abrupt laughter rings out. My nerves snap, I dart ahead, and clear the next corner just as the laughter spills into the corridor. It follows me for the next three turnings. Then it dies down. Then it changes direction and heads towards me – does it? I double back in panic – I thought I doubled back – and end up down a dead end with a drinks machine in the alcove. I listen. The voices of two men are getting nearer. Maybe I can squeeze down the side of this drinks machine – I can, but as I try to twist around behind it my foot gets caught in a loop of cable. At that moment the voices appear in front of the machine. I freeze. If I move they will hear me. If they look down the side of the machine they will see my leg. I feel a sneeze getting nearer. A transformer juts into the small of my back. It hornet-hums and is hot as an iron.
‘My, my, my, what do we have here.’
‘Imported Stella Artois. Nectar of the gods.’
‘Time for a quick can?’
‘Why not? And guess what? Kakizaki is AB rhesus negative.’
‘My, my. I hope you bled him dry. AB neg is liquid ruby for the right billionaire.’
‘Drier than dry, poor fucker. I see it as an act of mercy. You heard about the neck trusses on the lip of the pits? Fuck, this machine won’t take five-thousands. Got anything smaller?’
I am going to sneeze right now.
Coins are fed in. ‘Neck trusses? I thought Morino said to use gaffer tape.’
‘We did, but Nabe wriggled too much. Morino ordered no sedatives. So there was nothing for it but neck trusses and nine-inch nails. Kakizaki’s the lucky one. His meat’s whiter than turkey; he’ll hardly feel a thing.’
My sneeze vanishes. Beers clunk through the machine’s guts. The men open their beers and walk away, still discussing carpentry. I sneeze and wallop my head on the side of the machine.
I find room 333 by accident while I am still looking for a hiding place. I press my ear against it. Apart from my pulse pounding my eardrums I hear nothing. I think. I test the handle. It is tightly sprung, but feels unlocked. Holding my breath, I open the door a sliver and peer in. I can see the metal bin with the document wallet. The window is slightly open, and a breeze combs the blinds. Remembering the adjoining room, I creep in. Nobody here. Relief washes through me, then triumph hoses