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From the Fatherland with Love
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RYU MURAKAMI
FROM THE
FATHERLAND,
WITH LOVE
Translated from the Japanese
by Ralph McCarthy, Charles De Wolf,
and Ginny Tapley Takemori
PUSHKIN PRESS
LONDON
CONTENTS
Title Page
Prominent Characters
Prologue 1: The Boomerang Boy
Prologue 2: From the Fatherland
Introduction 1: A Missed Sign
Introduction 2: Those Who Wait
Phase One
1: Nine Commandos
2: Seedless Papayas
3: A Herd of Zombies
4: Antonov An-2s
5: Declaration of War
Phase Two
1: Blockade
2: Knights of the Round Table
3: Before Dawn
4: In Ohori Park
5: Spirit Guides
6: Night in Tokyo
7: Decadence Discovered
8: The Execution
9: Bon Voyage
10: Tattletale
11: Precious Moments
12: Wings of an Angel
Epilogue 1
Epilogue 2
Epilogue 3
Afterword
Also Available from Pushkin Press
About the Publisher
Copyright
PROMINENT CHARACTERS
TOKYO
Cabinet Intelligence and Research Office (CIRO)
Suzuki Norikazu, Deputy Leader, General Affairs Section, Cabinet Crisis-Management Center
Yoshida, Exchange Section, International Division
Kawai Hideaki, Korean Affairs Section, International Division
Iwata, Chief of Domestic Division
The Cabinet’s crisis-management room (located under PM’s official residence)
Kido Masaaki, Prime Minister
Shigemitsu Takashi, Chief Cabinet Secretary
Yamagiwa Kiyotaka, Deputy Chief Cabinet Secretary
Tsuboi, from Foreign Affairs Division of Foreign Affairs and Intelligence Department at Security Bureau, National Police Agency (NPA)
Katsurayama, from Security Division at Security Bureau, NPA
Ohashi, Minister for Foreign Affairs
Umezu, Minister for Economy, Trade, and Industry
Minami, Minister of Health, Labor, and Welfare
Araki Yukie, Minister for Home Affairs
Shimada, Minister of State for Defense
Oikawa, Commissioner General, NPA
Sadakata, member of National Public Safety Commission
Doihara, Minister for Land, Infrastructure and Transport
Kai Tomonori, Director General of Local Government Wide Area Network (LGWAN), Home Affairs Ministry
Akasaka
Sanjo Masahiro, owner of bar in Akasaka
NORTH KOREA
Korean Workers Party, Building 3
Pak Yong Su, Professor of Japanese at Kim Jong Il Political-Military University
Jang Jin Myeong, Vice-Minister for Culture
Kim Gweon Cheol, Deputy Director of Fourth Section of KWP Secretariat’s Organization and Guidance Department
Kang Deok Sang, instructor in the General Political Bureau; training supervisor for the advance team commandos
Advance Team Commandos
Han Seung Jin (39), colonel and leader of commandos; political officer attached to People’s Army’s General Staff’s Light Infantry Guidance Bureau; Trusted commanding officer of Koryo Expeditionary Force (KEF). Right ear is clump of scar tissue
Kim Hak Su (37), major and deputy leader of commandos. Tall and powerfully built, with piercing gaze. Bayonet scar from corner of right eye to temple
Choi Hyo Il (32), captain. Master of the martial art gyeoksul. Head of KEF Special Police. Tall and ferocious-looking, with bulging muscles and knife scar on cheek
Jo Su Ryeon (33), first lieutenant. Heads propaganda and guidance section of KEF. Accomplished writer. Tall, slim, and handsome, with resonant voice
Jang Bong Su (29), first lieutenant. Serves in intelligence section of KEF. Scar on neck
Pak Myeong (29), first lieutenant. In charge of day-to-day operations of KEF provisional government. Elite background. Tall and thin, with refined but mask-like features
Kim Hyang Mok (27, female), second lieutenant. Accomplished at languages, finance, commercial theory, and sabotage. Heads logistics and supplies section of KEF. Grandfather was killed by the Japanese in Manchuria. Petite and pretty, with mischievous eyes
Ri Gwi Hui (28, female), second lieutenant. Expert in electronic communications and sabotage. Serves in intelligence section of the KEF. Lithe and athletic, with even features
Cho Seong Rae (30), second lieutenant. Son of restaurant cook. Tall and gentle-looking
Koryo Expeditionary Force
Ri Hui Cheol, staff major. Second-in-command to Colonel Han. Specialist in international law
Ra Jae Gong, major. Responsible for economic administration; manages funding in Fukuoka
Heo Jip, captain. Army doctor with thorough knowledge of chemical warfare. Short and slightly stooped, with deep-set eyes, pointed nose, thin lips
Ri Gyu Yeong, female warrant officer and army doctor. Pretty eyes, plump cheeks, small nose
Kim Sun I, female warrant officer. Serves in electronic intelligence under Ri Gwi Hui. Fair-skinned and tall, with gymnast’s build
Pak Il Su, second lieutenant. Heads Squadron #2 of the Special Police
Choi Rak Gi, warrant officer. Serves in logistics and supplies section under Second Lieutenant Kim Hyang Mok
Ri Seong Su, warrant officer. Serves in the Special Police. In charge of First Lieutenant Jo Su Ryeon’s security
Tak Cheol Hwan, warrant officer. Heads Squadron #1 of the Special Police, second-in-command to Captain Choi Hyo Il
Ra Yong Hak, warrant officer. Renowned sharpshooter. Subordinate of Captain Choi Hyo Il, Squadron #1 of the Special Police
FUKUOKA
Local government and media
Yoshioka Masaru, governor of Fukuoka Prefecture
Tenzan Toshiyuki, mayor of Fukuoka City
Onoe Chikako, senior staff member of Public Facility Projects Section of Construction Bureau at Fukuoka City Hall. Mother of Risako and Kenta
Mizuki Nobuyuki, Onoe Chikako’s former boss, head of Ports and Harbors at City Hall
Okiyama Hiroto, chief of Kyushu Regional Police Bureau
Yokogawa Shigeto, reporter from city-news desk, Nishi Nippon Shinbun. Married to Yokogawa Naeko
Hosoda Sakiko, NHK Fukuoka announcer, cohosts TV program with Jo Su Ryeon
The National Kyushu Medical Center
Kuroda Genji, Deputy Director of Respiratory Medicine
Seragi Katsuhiko, honorary consultant. Specialist in autoimmune diseases
Seragi Yoko, dermatologist. Granddaughter of Seragi Katsuhiko
Koshida, head of security
Takahashi, Director of Respiratory Medicine
Tsuchiya, Deputy Director of Hematology
Criminals arrested by KEF
#2 Maezono Yoshio, charged with forced prostitution and loan sharking
#9 Otsuka Seiji, lawyer for crime syndicates, charged with moneylaundering and tax evasion
#10 Omura Kikuo, physician, charged with fraud and bribery
#12 Kuzuta Shinsaku, former prefectural parliamentarian, charged with smuggling
Speed Tribe
The Chief (37), head of Bosozoku group the Hakatakko Devils
Koizumi (33), Deputy Chief of the Hakatakko Devils. Son of bean-jambun maker
Ishihara Group
Tateno (16), master of l
ethally modified boomerangs. At the age of thirteen, witnessed his father, a building contractor, surreptitiously burying a body. Slight of build, long bangs
Shinohara (18), breeds large numbers of poisonous frogs and insects. Face as smooth as a hard-boiled egg
Hino (18), expert on ductwork and plumbing. When he was seven, his mentally disturbed mother stabbed his father to death. At thirteen, set fire to the institution he’d been placed in, killing four people. Face like that of a roadside Jizo statue—round and expressionless
Yamada (17), has tattoo of Mickey Mouse on left shoulder. At thirteen, discovered the corpse of his father, a proponent of “honest poverty,” hanging from suicide noose. Has rabbit-like features
Mori (17), has tattoo of Minnie Mouse on right shoulder. When he was thirteen, his older brother stabbed his parents to death. Resembles an owl, or an Ewok
Ando (18), at thirteen, murdered and dismembered female classmate. Lean and handsome
Fukuda (23), bomb-making expert. Claims to be only child of members of religious cult that carried out large-scale terrorist operations. At fifteen, blew up a “rub and tug” massage parlor. Pale and thin
Takeguchi (18), expert in high explosives. When he was ten, his father strapped dynamite to waist and burst into offices of the company that had just laid him off but succeeded only in blowing himself up. Pretty face
Takei (48), former bank employee. Makes use of connections with Islamic Yemen-based guerrilla group to smuggle weapons into Japan. Small, frail, and nearsighted
Kaneshiro (age and background unknown), obsessed with plans to commit terror on grand scale. Has countless suicide scars on both wrists. Thin face, penetrating eyes
Matsuyama (19), at fourteen, became convinced that radio waves were controlling his mind, burst into TV station, and murdered two with homemade pistol. Long hair, long face
Toyohara (17), at twelve, hijacked a bullet train, wielding grandfather’s antique samurai sword, and cut down conductor. Short, beefy, and hairy, with shaved head
Felix (age unknown), raised by homosexual hacker after parents were killed by armed robber in Colombia. Full-blooded Japanese citizen, in spite of this nickname. Shaved head, with build like a silverback gorilla
Okubo (20), committed forty-six acts of arson in hometown of Iwate. Was famous child actor until age of twelve or so. Skull-faced
Orihara (18), member of group of five so-called Satanists. Has brown teeth and face of old man
Kondo (17), member of group of five so-called Satanists. Thin and weedy
Sato (16), member of group of five so-called Satanists. Big eyes, sweet face
Miyazaki (17), member of group of five so-called Satanists. Expressionless, Moai statue face
Shibata (17), member of group of five so-called Satanists. Short and chubby, with lots of pimples
Ishihara (49), provides housing for all young men in the group. Accomplished poet and winner of Kyushu Prefecture Cultural Award for Literary Excellence
Nobue (55), Ishihara’s close friend. Previously lived in Fukuoka but currently homeless and residing in Ryokuchi Park in Tokyo
FROM THE
FATHERLAND,
WITH LOVE
PROLOGUE 1
THE BOOMERANG BOY
December 14, 2010
Kawasaki, Japan
NOBUE AWOKE on his American army-surplus cot to the squawking of a chicken. The bird was inside his tent, pecking at scraps of food on the ground. He took his time opening his eyes, then raised his left wrist to his face and squinted at his watch. The little hand pointed at eleven, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Ishihara had given him this watch more than twenty years ago, and even back then it had never kept time properly. Nobue couldn’t say how many hundreds of times he’d considered throwing it away, but buying a new one would have required more effort than he cared to expend, and besides, ever since he and Ishihara had gone their separate ways he’d come to think of it as a sort of memento. His memories of the time they’d spent together were intense, though usually as hazy as daydreams. When he focused on them they were clear enough, but for the most part they lay buried somewhere deep in his brain, like corpses sunk in the muck of a swamp. There had been other members of their little group as well. Sugioka, Yano, Kato… and one other guy. Nobue wasn’t much good at remembering names, but Ishihara’s was one he would never forget. The watch had been made half a century before, in Switzerland, and the silvery minute hand was stuck to the white dial. He felt a bit sentimental whenever he looked at the thing.
The blue vinyl tarp was lit with the pale glow of daylight outside. Nobue’s tent was of the most basic design—a tarp folded double, draped over a support, and staked to the ground at three points. There were no windows, of course, so he couldn’t see what the weather was like or what was going on outside. It was noisy, with people chattering away all around him, but that was always the case and no indication of the time or weather. What the hell’s a chicken doing in my tent? He tried to sit up, grunting as pain shot through his right shoulder. He couldn’t lift his right arm, and his left elbow was creaky and numb. He folded his arms protectively and rolled onto his side, then pressed his palm against the edge of the cot to ease himself up. The chicken was pecking alternately at a scrap of sweet-potato skin and a small wooden skewer to which were attached tiny bits of chicken meatballs. In the oilcan on the ground beside the cot, sticks of firewood still smoldered. That would account for the irritation in his eyes and throat. Lots of the homeless had died of carbon-monoxide poisoning recently, and the so-called non-profit organization that ran the place had issued a warning about leaving stoves burning inside tents and huts. Going to bed without heat in the tent would have been out of the question last night, however. December had been shockingly cold so far, and without a fire Nobue’s joints and lower back would have seized up completely. The pain would have forced him awake before dawn.
“Nobue-san, sorry to bother you. Did my Ken-chan come barging in here?”
A man folded back the double layer of vinyl at the entrance and smiled in through the flap, showing all four of his teeth. It was the guy everyone called Kuri, his real name being Kurita or Kuriyama or something. He’d once worked at a bank. Or was it a trading company?
“Who the hell is Ken-chan?” Nobue growled. “You don’t mean this chicken, do you?”
“Yessir, that’s him all right. I keep telling him he’s not to go into other people’s houses, but… Ken-chan, come on! You’re bothering Nobue-san. Come out of there.”
The man leaned in through the flap and reached for his rooster.
“You expect him to understand what you tell him?” Nobue said, coughing. “He’s a chicken, for fuck’s sake. And this isn’t somebody’s house. It’s a homeless guy’s tent.”
The man named Kuri tensed visibly. Everyone in the park was wary of Nobue, including the NPO staff, who were drawn from the ranks of the yakuza. He was, after all, something of a legend. There were stories about him killing several people with a reconstructed model gun, or building a thermobaric bomb and, partly for sheer amusement, blowing up a large section of Fuchu City. It had all happened a long time ago, and Nobue himself didn’t care one way or the other about his “legend.” But there remained a certain menacing power in his startling features and in the sound of his laughter—a hacking cackle that pulled the rug out from under everything the world deemed most important, like peace and happiness and security. It was his ability to project this menace—without ever seeming to try—that won him the respect of both residents and the tough guys in charge of them.
“Ken-chan, come here! Can’t you see you’re not welcome?” Kuri slipped his hand under the rooster’s breast, lifted him, and set him back down outside the tent. “I’m very sorry, Nobue-san. I’ll give him a good piece of my mind,” he said, glancing nervously at Nobue’s face as he backed out of the tent.
“Give him a good piece of my mind,” Nobue mimicked, chuckling to himself. “What’s a chicken goi
ng to do with a piece of your fucking mind?” The more he thought about it, the more hilarious it seemed. First came a pigeon-like ku-ku-ku-ku-ku-ku, and then laughter began to roll through him in uncontrollable waves. As he doubled over with it, holding his stomach, his face twitched and contorted and tears filled his eyes. It was laughter of the sort he’d often shared with Ishihara back in the old days, and it always helped him forget the pain in his joints.
When the laughter had finally run its course he stood up, his head pressing against the vinyl ceiling. He wiped away the tears, bent down to pick up the hand mirror that lay on the ground at his feet, and looked at his face, studying for the millionth time the scar on his right cheek—a ten-centimeter zipper that ran from the cheekbone down to the jaw. He used to think that with age and wrinkles the scar would become less noticeable, but several years ago the flesh bordering it had begun to cave in, making it all the more prominent. The mirror was the sort women use, an oval-shaped affair with a white wooden handle, and reflected in it was the face of a man in his fifties whose hair, skin, and general vitality were all beginning to sag. He hadn’t been to a barber in a decade or more, and what little hair still sprouted from the top of his head hung over his face like the unraveled threads of an old sweater, or cobwebs. His smile, both top and bottom, was missing approximately every other tooth. Those that remained were gray with tartar and decay, and his gums were nearly black. Though he inspected his face every day, this time Nobue couldn’t help thinking: What a kisser! No wonder I scare people. A scar like that on a mug like this… He draped himself in the long down coat that doubled as his blanket and stepped outside, absently stroking the scar with his finger.
The winter sunlight filtering through the branches of the trees cast a shifting pattern of shadows on his face. It was still well before noon, he reckoned. By afternoon this entire corner would be in the shade of the towering fence that separated the western edge of the park from the highway. The city had erected the fence, explaining that it was to prevent drunks wandering onto the highway and getting themselves killed. If that were really their concern, however, a simple guardrail would have done the job—no need for a fence six meters high. Ryokuchi Park was surrounded by massive housing developments constructed by a consortium of private railway corporations. No doubt the city had been pressured by local residents to hide from view the army of people who called the park home.