The Hunter (35 page)

Kasahara said: "To tell the truth, I was worried about what people were thinking. Ogawa knew I owned a wolf-dog. I wanted to find out if he had made any connection between me and these attacks starting getting to get media attention."

Kasahara's own overdriven, workaholic life had helped turn his daughter into a delinquent and a drug addict—and now one careless, rash action ended up costing her life. Once again he broke down and wept uncontrollably before police investigators. His grief contrasted starkly with the carping of Ogawa as he bewailed his ill fortune and his inability to finish the wolf-dog off in the fire.

Kasahara continued: "There was this terrible blast, and the inside of the house burst into flames. The first thing I did was let Gale out of his pen. I just told him, 'Go!' It wasn't an actual command; it was the first word that popped out of my mouth in desperation. There are all sorts of commands I could have used—'Search,' 'Follow,' 'Run'—and I think they were all rolled up in that one single word. For a moment Gale studied my face, but the fire and smoke were so intense that he instinctively sensed danger, I think, and took off. Then I went to get Emiko, but the fire had spread quickly and the smoke was so blinding, I couldn't keep my eyes open. It got so bad I couldn't take another step. Looking back, I have no idea why I didn't go to my daughter first. But maybe I wanted to entrust Gale with something.

"Of course, no matter how developed a dog's sense of smell may be, once Ogawa got in his car and sped off, his scent would be gone. But with his strength and speed, Gale could cover a lot of ground fast, and since it was snowing that day, the car was held up in traffic; following it might have been pretty easy for Gale. He must have learned to recognize Ogawa's car."

After Hara's death, Kasahara was able, merely by repeated pointing, to indicate to Gale his next target, and get him to attack on his own. Kasahara would follow the designated victim around for days on end, establishing a pattern of movement and searching for a place where he or she would be easy prey. As they tracked different people together, Gale soon learned whom they were after and became quicker than Kasahara at finding the target, issuing a slight growl when he picked up the scent. Kasahara observed the attacks from inside his car, and then drove home alone. Gale unfailingly returned by himself, morning at the latest. He used the Akishima house as his home base—a style of territoriality that was one more sign of the wolf blood running in his veins, as wolves normally roam widely through their territory. According to Kasahara, wherever Gale went, his movements centered on the house, as if he were always recalculating his direction and distance from home.

"Normally this would be unthinkable, but I have the idea that after getting separated from me, Gale remembered following Mizutani around. That dog had such a strong bond with his family, and he hated being alone so much, he must have felt lost without me. It kills me to think of it. Maybe all he could do was to concentrate on me, and the places he and I had gone together, and go back there in hopes of picking up some trace of me. And all the while he must have been turning over that word 'Go!' in his mind, trying to figure out what it meant."

Ogawa reasoned that, even if Kasahara made no threat, sooner or later Kasahara would come after him. So one day he followed Kasahara home from the pet shop where he worked and found out where he lived. He made up his mind to do away with him. He knew that the investigation of the case of the timed incendiary device had stalled; police showed no interest in talking to him about it. This meant that if he used the same chemical as before, he didn't have to worry. This time he made an even simpler explosive contraption, using a plastic bottle. First he cut out the bottom out and then, using a cheap watch and a battery, he attached a timing device using only a spring and Nichrome wire. Then he reattached the bottom of the bottle, and filled it with dry benzoyl peroxide. He made several of these firebombs, and placed them at regular intervals on the perimeter of Kasahara's house.

"I never thought it was an attack dog. I'd seen it a bunch of times, but it never howled at me, and that night, too, it never made a peep. I had my own problems; those 'dog bites man' stories didn't interest me. Then at Makuhari the animal came flying at me out of nowhere, and my heart just about froze."

This was Ogawa's account. There was no appreciable difference in the testimony of the two men, it was adjudged. As the investigation proceeded, detectives devoted themselves to compounding evidence and interviewing witnesses, creating a paper whirlwind. Investigation headquarters was disbanded the day after Masanori Ogawa was formally indicted for murder. Over two months had passed since the death of Teruo Hara.

It was almost cherry blossom season. The sunshine had more sparkle, and along railroad tracks and on little embankments, yellow rape flowers were in blossom.

"Dead? When did it happen?"

"About two weeks after he came here—no, more like three. Not long after his master's indictment."

This was the MPD kennel for police dogs, located in the Tama Identification Center. Freed from the rigors of her previous assignment, lately Takako had been spending all her time on the case of a serial street slasher. The scrapes and bruises incurred during the spill she took while chasing Gale having healed, she decided to spend her day off enjoying the feel of the spring breeze against her skin, and set off again on her motorcycle. Once she was out riding, for the first time it unsettled her to realize that she had no destination in mind. That never used to matter. Before, she would always just ride and ride to her heart's content before deciding on a destination. Now the idea that she didn't know where to go, didn't know what to aim for, made her anxious.

And then, the next thing she knew, she was heading here. Headquarters had wracked its brains over what to do with the wolf-dog that attacked and killed three people. Unable to send it to the pound or put it in the zoo, they decided to shelter it in a police dog kennel. She didn't have to see Gale, she just wanted to hear how he was doing.

"What did he die of? Was he sick?"

"No, he wasn't sick." The officer assigned to care for Gale was an unassuming man of about forty. Something about him reminded her of Kasahara. He twisted his mouth awkwardly and sighed. "He just wouldn't eat."

Takako stared at this man who was smaller in stature than herself. When she'd first shown up on her 1200cc bike, wearing her leather suit, he looked askance at her; but after she showed him her badge, he nodded in comprehension: "Oh, you're the one." The story of the motorcycle policewoman who chased the wolf-dog over Tokyo expressways that night had spread even to this backwater, far from the noise of the city.

"He was important material evidence, so I did all I could for him," said the man. "I checked with his master about what he was used to eating and bought the same brand of dog food, and I took him to the vet time and again."

"There was nothing physically wrong?"

The man shook his head, and sighed again with evident regret. "I figured maybe he didn't like me, and tried having someone else take over for me for a while. Even brought in something with his master's scent on it to put in his cage. He didn't seem either ill or depressed; more like he'd just made up his mind he wasn't ever going to eat again, and that was that. You could say he was firm in his own mind."

Suicide. The word floated into Takako's mind.

"Are you saying he deliberately starved himself to death? "

"We gave him fluids, did what we could."

“TVs and injections didn't work?"

"He was smart. It worked the first time, but after that the sight of the vet set him off something fierce. He'd snarl and bare his fangs."

That day, when six men carted Gale off before her eyes, he'd been knocked out with tranquilizers. The eyes that had stared into hers were closed, and the muscles that had rippled so magnificently beneath the dense fur lay unmoving. His legs and body were muddy, and while his expression was of course unreadable, he gave off an air of exhaustion. In front of the others she had struggled fiercely to maintain control, but tears had never been far. Had Gale never taken in another mouthful of food?

"Ordinarily he was completely self-possessed, so to speak; even when other dogs barked or people came by, he was as quiet as you please. I mean, the idea that he could ever attack anyone seemed preposterous to me."

"He was that quiet?"

"Only the IVs set him off. We tried a different vet, but it didn't make any difference. That dog knew. Seeing that, I felt dread. Because for a dog like that, ripping someone to pieces might be nothing after all."

"And then he just died?"

The officer sighed again, and nodded. "He had enormous—I don't know what else to call it—mental strength. He just stared off into space, like he was thinking about something, or waiting for someone. That's what I thought."

"And he lasted nearly three weeks?"

"That's right. One morning when I came in, he was already cold. When we weighed him, he'd lost over twenty pounds."

Takako could not imagine a Gale that was wasted away, cadaverous. Dazed, she left the Identification Center. Gale, with all his life force, all his fierce energy, was gone.

Where should I go?

As she got back on her motorcycle and rode, she felt her shock increase. She was bewildered, rattled, about to lose it. Devastated, she rode on through the halcyon spring sunshine. Under a sky so soft and warm that, after the harshness of midwinter, even the honking of horns sounded gentle, on and on she rode, blending aimlessly with the flow of traffic.

With the passing of days, her impression of the hours spent running with Gale blurred into something of a dream or a vision. Everything about that bitterly cold night had been fantastic and unreal. Only the strange joy and satisfaction she felt as she flew along behind Gale was unforgettable. That, and the look in Gale's eyes when he had stared into hers, was etched indelibly in her mind.

Yes, you had no alternative. What other course could you have chosen?

Yet, what a quiet death it had been—maybe, in its way, a sublime death. How strange that the death of a dog should affect her so deeply. As she rode blindly on, Takako wondered if Gale had not planned on ending his own life from the first. Once he had carried out his last mission and killed Ogawa, he would die: Gale was certainly capable of thinking that way. He was that human, that single-minded in his devotion.

Then they should have let him carry out the attack.

This stunning thought suddenly seized her. Ogawa would face a long trial now, to be followed by conviction and a harsh penalty, without a doubt. Murder, attempted murder, arson of an inhabited structure accompanied by the burning of neighboring structures, unauthorized use of a controlled substance for antisocial ends. He had all these crimes to answer for. Prosecutors would certainly request the death penalty.

Ogawa and Kasahara might confront one another in court. When that happened, Takako wanted to be there. Anyway, there was talk that she might need to take the stand as the legally appointed officer who went after Gale. It would be some time before the events of that night could fade to the far reaches of her awareness.

She'd been heading west, yet at some point she'd gotten on the expressway—and then, before she knew it, she found herself back on the Bayshore
Route. The spring sun was high in the sky, and its reflection on the line of cars on the crowded lanes before her sparkled. The same road; but what different air, what different scenery from that day, flew past. In her mind's eye, Takako had a vision of Gale: a wolf-dog tearing through the darkness with bounding lightness and fluid grace.

Suddenly she thought of the emperor penguin. Come to think of it, perhaps the only reason she'd been able to race along with her mind focused solely on Gale that night was because she knew she could count on Takizawa, behind her. She had imagined herself alone in Gale's presence, but unlike him, she had had backup. She had ridden this long way with Takizawa there, watching after her, the whole time. That was how he could come up to her afterward and say, "You looked like you were having a ball."

She'd never seen him again since then, no chance to say a proper goodbye. Rumor had it he was troubled about his daughter's upcoming marriage. Supposedly he was tearing his hair out because, although barely twenty, she was bent on getting married right away. "Even for a woman, it's not like marriage is the only thing in life," he had groused to his coworkers.

Her former partner probably knew that Gale was dead. But he hadn't been able to tell her.
Maybe he never told me because he wanted to spare me.
That's the way he would think. Without him around anymore, she found herself thinking nostalgically of the emperor penguin. Her memory of him as he said only "Oh," and walked off with a wave of his hand was strangely warm. Still, she had no desire to be paired with him ever again.

She passed the Ichikawa toll booth and saw the Wangan Narashino Interchange coming up ahead. She put on the turn signal of her old friend, the XJR1200, and changed lanes. Still in a sentimental mood, she decided on the spur of the moment to visit her parents' home in Urawa.

She would check on Tomoko, who had taken up Chinese breathing exercises, and stay for dinner, putting up with Koko's malice and her mother's complaints. Talk of love and marriage was now off limits at home, so there would be no carping about her divorce. After a while her father would come home. She'd see him, hear him say as usual, "Sure is a big bike you got there," and then go back to her apartment. Days off were few and far between. Might as well make the most of this one.

Her thoughts turned to the case she was currently assigned to. The suspect remained a mystery. Even after hearing eyewitness testimony, she had no clear image of the attacker. What sort of man would go after defenseless young girls, slashing them from behind, she had no idea; there was some
thing cheap and disgraceful about such behavior. Damn it, there were no decent men around, any way you turned. Though indeed, if she should ever find one with a long, bushy tail, she might follow him to the ends of the earth. Thinking this, she stepped three times on the gear pedal, then veered down the gentle curve of the ramp.