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  When she finally reached the parking lot, Kuniko's Golf was already in its usual spot. She was probably worried about being late and had gone on ahead. Masako climbed out of the car, lit a cigarette, and glanced around the lot. Tonight, for the first time, there was no trace of the usual stench of fried food and exhaust fumes, though maybe she was just too nervous to smell it. Walking around behind the car, she stared at the trunk. There was a body in there, and tomorrow she would be figuring out how to get rid of it; and here she was, doing things she wouldn't have even been able to imagine a few hours ago. The thought made her realise that she could perhaps understand Yayoi's sense of liberation.

  After checking once more to make sure that the trunk was locked, she set out along the dark road, cigarette still in hand. She didn't have much time left, and tonight of all nights she wanted to avoid doing anything out of the ordinary that would attract attention. But just as she was coming to the abandoned factory that lined one side of her route, a man in a cap jumped out of the shadows on the left and grabbed her arm. Shocked, but trying not to lose control, she realised that she'd completely forgotten about the reports of a pervert of some kind lurking in the area. Before she could even cry out, the man began dragging her toward the empty building.

  'Stop!' she screamed at last, her voice piercing the darkness. At the sudden sound, the man panicked. He cupped his hand over her mouth and tried to pull her down into the tall, thick grass that grew at the edge of the road. Fortunately, though, Masako's height allowed her to turn her shoulder and catch his arm, dislodging his hand slightly from her mouth. While he was struggling to regain his grip, she swung her bag and managed to get her mouth free. Still, the other hand held her arm and was dragging her to the ground. Just as Kuniko had said, the man wasn't big, but he was solidly built, with a distinct smell of cologne coming from him.

  'What do you want with me?' she yelled. 'There are plenty of younger women around.' This time she could feel his grip loosen slightly at the sound of her voice. Now she was all but certain that it must be one of the men from the factory who would have known her at least by sight, and she made a desperate effort to shake free and get back to the road. The man was quicker, however, and he slipped around her and tried to push her back toward the ruined factory. She remembered that there was a drainage ditch that ran along the road here, and there were holes in the cement slabs that covered it. Stepping gingerly to avoid them, she backed away from the man, keeping her eyes on his face. She couldn't see him clearly, but in the reddish light of the moon she caught a sudden glimpse of the black eyes staring out from beneath the cap.

  'You're Miyamori, aren't you?' she said, throwing out the first name that came into her head. From his reaction she could see that she'd been right. 'Kazuo Miyamori, that's who you are,' she said, pressing, her advantage. 'If you let me go, I won't tell anyone. I don't want to be late tonight, but I'll meet you some other time, I promise.' The man gulped but said nothing to her unexpected proposal. 'Let me go now, and we can meet again another time, just the two of us.' This time the man answered, and from the sound of his heavily accented voice, she was sure that it was Miyamori.

  'Really?' he said. 'When?'

  'Tomorrow night. Right here.'

  'What time?'

  'Nine.' Instead of answering, he suddenly embraced her and pressed his lips to hers. Held tight against his hard chest, she felt the breath being crushed out of her. As she struggled, her legs became tangled in his and they fell with a loud clatter against the rusty metal shutter of the delivery bay in the old factory. Startled, the man froze and looked around nervously; and while he was doing this, Masako pushed him away, grabbed her bag, and got to her feet. In her haste, however, she tripped over a stack of empty cans.

  'Find someone younger for your fun!' she screamed at him, suddenly furious. The man's arms fell limp at his side and he looked at her in a daze. Rubbing his spit from her lips with the back of her hand, she pushed through the thick grass.

  'I'll be waiting for you tomorrow,' he called, his voice low and pleading. Without looking back, Masako picked her way over the concrete culvert and sprinted down the road. How could this have happened today, when she thought she was being so careful? For the first time in quite a while, she felt a surge of dark rage, tinged with irritation at her own blundering. But who'd have thought that the pervert could be someone like Kazuo Miyamori? She even remembered saying hello to him before the last shift. The thought made her blood boil.

  -

  As she ran up the stairs to the factory door, combing her fingers through her dishevelled hair, she found Komada, the health inspector, just getting up to go.

  'Good morning,' Masako called. At the sound of her breathless voice, Komada turned.

  'Hurry up,' she said. 'You're the last.' While the sticky tape was being rolled across her back, Masako heard her laugh for the first time in ages. 'What have you been up to?' she asked. 'You've got dirt and grass all over you.'

  'I was in a hurry and I fell down.'

  'On your back? You didn't hurt your hands, did you?' If there was the tiniest scratch, you weren't allowed to touch the food. Masako hurriedly inspected her fingers: dirt under the fingernails but otherwise no damage. Relieved, she shook her head.

  Pleased that she had managed to avoid any suspicion about the attack, she gave a non-committal laugh and headed for the changing room. It was already empty, so she threw on her work clothes, grabbed her plastic apron and cap, and ran to the bathroom. Checking her face in the mirror, she found a small smear of blood oozing from her lip. 'Shit,' she muttered, rinsing it off. There was also a bruise on her left forearm, probably from being dragged through the grass. She wanted no trace of that man anywhere on her body. She wanted to strip down on the spot and examine herself; but that would make her late, and the evidence would be recorded on her time card. She held her anger in check as best she could, but when she remembered Miyamori telling her that he would 'wait for her tomorrow', the thought that she couldn't have him arrested, that she couldn't even file a complaint, nearly made her lose control.

  She carefully washed her hands before running downstairs to the factory floor. The time clock read 11.59. She'd made it just in time, but it was later than she usually punched in - and she'd had better evenings.

  The women were just filing into the plant and beginning the sterilisation procedure. She noticed Yoshie and Kuniko waving to her from the front of the line and then realised that Yayoi was standing right next to her, her face covered by her mask and cap.

  'You're late,' Yayoi said, her voice barely audible. 'I was worried.'

  'Sorry,' Masako muttered.

  She peered at her. 'Did something happen?'

  'No, nothing. How about you - you didn't have cuts on your hand, did you? They write it down if you do.'

  'No problem,' said Yayoi, staring off into the gaping, frigid factory. 'I somehow feel as though I've gotten stronger,' she added, but the slight tremor in her voice didn't escape Masako.

  'You're going to need that strength,' she said. 'But at least it's a choice you've made yourself.'

  'That's right,' said Yayoi. They lined up behind the last of the workers waiting for the disinfectant wash. Yoshie, who had already taken her place at the head of the conveyor belt, glanced around again, urging them to hurry.

  'So how do you plan to do it?' Masako whispered, as she scrubbed her hands and arms under the powerful jets.

  'I don't know,' Yayoi muttered, her weariness suddenly visible in her sunken eyes.

  'It's your problem, so you'll have to figure it out/ Masako told her before heading off toward the head of the line where Yoshie was waiting. As she made her way through the room, she looked for Kazuo Miyamori among the Brazilian employees in their blue caps, but there was no sign of him. She was certain now that it had been him.

  'Thanks again,' Yoshie said to her as she approached. Masako was confused for a moment.

  'For what?' she said.

  'You've got to be kid