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  Pretending to ignore the whole transaction, she went to change. She slipped into her white uniform and then shoved the envelope far down in the pocket of her work pants; it would be awkward, to say the least, if it fell out during the shift. Through the line of hangers, she could see Yoshie and Kazuo together. She had apparently just finished her explanation, and Kazuo rose and left the lounge with the two women in tow. The Brazilians had a line of lockers next to the bathroom.

  As Masako was scrubbing her hands and arms at the sink in the hall, the other two came back.

  'That's a relief,' Yoshie said, picking up the little brush Masako had been using. 'He's a nice guy.' Kuniko turned on the water at a spigot well down the line.

  'Did he understand what you wanted?' Masako asked.

  'He seemed to. We told him we had something valuable we wanted to store in his locker, and he agreed right away. He said he'd be a little late getting off work and to please wait for him. He was very polite.'

  'I'm glad it worked out,' said Masako, looking up just in time to see him walk by on his way to the factory floor. His build was so different from Japanese men - the thick neck planted on a powerful chest. His deeply chiselled face looked straight ahead as he passed. A man who would have been in his element under the Latin American sun seemed sadly out of place in the white uniform and ridiculous cap of a Japansese night-shift worker. She wondered whether he still had the key; but what really puzzled her was why this young foreigner should be attracted to her at all.

  -

  Work on the line stopped earlier than usual that morning, due to the typhoon. The part-time women sighed gloomily as they looked out the window in the entrance. Dawn had brought the storm with it. The rain fell sideways in heavy sheets, and the spindly pagoda trees around the car factory across the way seemed ready to snap in the wind. The gutters on both sides of the road were flowing like small rivers.

  Yoshie frowned as she stared out at the storm. 'I don't think I'll be able to ride a bike in this.'

  'I can give you a lift,' Masako offered.

  'Could you?' She looked relieved. 'I'd really appreciate it.' Pretending she hadn't heard this exchange, Kuniko busied herself with her time card. 'I hate to ask,' Yoshie added, 'but would you mind waiting till Miyamori-san finishes work?'

  'Not a bit.'

  'I'll meet you at the parking lot.'

  'No, I'll go get the car and pick you up here.'

  'Thanks,' said Yoshie, glaring at Kuniko's broad back as she marched obliviously down the hall.

  Masako changed quickly and left the factory. The heavy skies of the night before had burst open, pelting the earth with rain and wind, but to her it seemed almost refreshing. Realising that her umbrella was useless, she closed it and decided to run the short distance to the parking lot. The rain fell in enormous drops, soaking her in a matter of seconds. She brushed the hair out of her eyes, worried only about the bag of money she clutched in front of her as she ran. When she reached the abandoned factory, she could see that the concrete cover on the culvert was still where Kazuo had left it. The sound of roaring water rose from the hole, and it crossed her mind that Kenji's other belongings - apart from the key - must have been washed away. As she ran on, buffeted by the wind, she pictured that torrent to herself, and a laugh rose in her throat. She too would be free! The very thought made her feel freer.

  When she reached the Corolla, she slipped into the driver's seat without stopping to brush off her wet clothes. She found a rag she kept under the dashboard and wiped her arms. Her jeans, heavy with rain, seemed to tighten around her legs. She turned the windshield wipers to the highest setting to see if they could keep up with the downpour and switched on the defrost. The blast of cold air brought goose bumps to her damp skin.

  Easing the car out of the parking lot, she retraced her way to the factory. As she pulled up in front, Kuniko was just coming down the stairs, as flashily dressed as usual in a baggy black T-shirt and flowered tights. She glanced at Masako's car, but then opened her blue umbrella and walked off in the storm without a word. Masako watched in the rear-view mirror as the wind pulled her along. Perhaps they could still work together at the factory, but she resolved never to have anything to do with her beyond that. And as she watched in the mirror, Kuniko seemed to fade into the flood, as if in response to the thought.

  Yoshie was coming down the stairs now, and she was surprised to see Kazuo following her, his clear plastic umbrella held out over her head. His black cap was pulled down around his ears. Catching sight of Masako's car, Yoshie hurried over and tapped on the window.

  'Sorry to bother you,' she said, squinting against the rain, 'but d'you mind opening the trunk?'

  'Why?' said Masako.

  'I think he's saying he'll put my bike in for me.' She pointed behind her and Masako found herself staring into Kazuo's clear, innocent eyes. Without a word, she pulled the lever that released the trunk. The top popped open, obscuring the view through the rear window. But just at that moment the wind picked up and the top began to flap alarmingly. Masako opened the door and hopped out into the pelting rain.

  'You'll get soaked!' Yoshie called. 'Get in!' She had to yell to make herself heard over the howling wind.

  'I'm already soaked!' Masako yelled back.

  'Get in!' Kazuo said, coming over to her and pressing firmly on her shoulder. Having little choice, Masako crawled back inside. A moment later, Yoshie tumbled into the passenger seat.

  'It's awful out there,' she said. Kazuo, who had apparently gone around to the bike racks behind the building, came back pushing Yoshie's bicycle. He picked it up with ease and started manoeuvring it into the trunk. It was a heavy old bike that Yoshie used mainly for shopping, but he somehow managed to load it so that only a bit of the front wheel protruded. Getting out to check, Masako could see that the trunk was almost shut; she should be able to drive.

  'Get in,' she said. He looked up at her, his face as wet as if he'd been swimming. His white T-shirt clung to his body, and there on his chest hung the key. He raised a hand to shield it from her eyes.

  'Thanks,' she said.

  'You're welcome,' he answered, without smiling. The wind shrieked by and a branch tumbled between them.

  'Get in,' she repeated. 'I'll give you a ride.' Shaking his head, he picked up the umbrella he'd left on the ground, opened it, and walked off toward the abandoned factory.

  'What was that all about?' Yoshie said, turning to look at his receding figure when Masako had climbed back in the car.

  'I'm not sure,' said Masako. She avoided looking in the mirror as she pulled away from the kerb.

  'It was nice of him, though,' Yoshie murmured, wiping her face with a towel. 'I'm lost without that bike.' Masako said nothing, peering out at the road through the frantic rhythm of the wipers. She turned on her headlights when they pulled on to the highway, noticing that the other cars had theirs on as well. They crept along, the spray splashing from their tyres. Yoshie tried to suppress a yawn as she said apologetically, 'Sorry to bring you so far out of your way. And I'm afraid your trunk's getting wet.' Through the rear-view mirror, Masako could see the top of the trunk bobbing in time with the bouncing of the car. Inevitably the rain was getting in - and washing the place where Kenji had been.

  'Not to worry,' she said. 'I've been meaning to clean it out.' Yoshie fell silent for a time. 'Skipper,' Masako said at last, her eyes still on the road. 'Would you be willing to do it one more time?'

  'Do what?' Yoshie said, turning toward her with a shocked look.

  'I think some work might be coming in.'

  'Work? You mean do that again? Who for?' Her mouth was hanging open.

  'Kuniko talked, and word got around. Now it looks like it might turn into a line of work.'

  'She talked? Then somebody's blackmailing you?' Yoshie pressed her hands against the dashboard as if she were suddenly terrified by the way the car was being driven.

  'No, they want to pay us for the same kind of job. There's no need