The Ends of the Earth Read Online Free PDF Page A

Japanese workers heading home at the end of the day, a surging, sweating mass of humanity that, to Sam’s amazement, left Liverpool Street in the rush hour looking quiet by comparison. The crowds were another safeguard against being followed, of course, although even Sam, no more than average height by English standards, towered above most of the people around him, which left Morahan resembling a sunflower among daisies.
    Trams were loading and disgorging passengers outside the station. Beyond lay European-style red-brick office buildings, parkland and thicker woodland than Sam would have expected to see in the centre of Tokyo. ‘That’ll be the Imperial Palace,’ said Morahan. ‘Follow me.’
    They walked as far as the moat separating the palace from the city, though the palace itself remained screened by trees. The heat was far more oppressive than in Yokohama, the atmosphere damp and heavy, crows cawing lazily, trams filled to overflowing rattling by at intervals.
    ‘We’re both a long way from home, Sam,’ said Morahan, drawing on a cigarette. ‘About as far as we can be, if it comes to it.’
    ‘Are you really going to go on without Max, Schools?’
    ‘That’s my intention. But the risks are greater than ever. You understand that, don’t you?’
    ‘Yes. I do.’
    ‘See that building along there – the one with the policeman out front?’ Morahan pointed to an imposing pile just past a kink in the moat.
    Sam squinted through the glare towards it. He saw a group of men in morning suits and top hats exit the building, saluted by the policemen, and climb into waiting cars. ‘What about it?’
    ‘That should be the Home Ministry, if I’ve remembered Yamanaka’s directions right.’
    ‘Yamanaka?’
    ‘I had a word with him before I left Paris. Contacts can be the difference between life and death in a strange city, Sam, so take note. Yamanaka’s elder brother, name of Fumiko, is some kind of Home Ministry bigwig. We can turn to him for help if we need it. He’ll have had a letter from Eisaku by now, assuring him we’re owed a lot of favours by the Yamanaka family.’
    ‘Why are you telling me this?’
    ‘Because we’re in enemy territory. There’s no knowing what might happen.’
    They walked south-west along the line of the moat as far as the Imperial Hotel, a slice of Paris to Sam’s eyes, then headed for the elevated railway line and followed it through a noisy, crowded shopping district to Shimbashi station, where, amid the swirling mobs and rumbling trains, they found Everett and Duffy waiting.
    ‘I propose an early supper, gentlemen,’ said Morahan. There were no objections.
    Supper was taken in the cramped booth of a noodle restaurant virtually underneath the railway line. Afterwards they adjourned to a café, where the demeanour of the waitresses suggested some of the establishment’s services were not listed on the menu. There they drank coffee while darkness fell over Tokyo.
    When they left, the lanterns were lit outside the numerous eateries and drinking dens of the neighbourhood. This was Tokyo as Sam had imagined it: the sing-song alien language; the kimono-clad women with their glossy hair and child-like faces; the rickshaws and bicycles weaving between the pedestrians; the clacking of wooden sandals on the pavements; the fluttering of gigantic moths in the humid air.
    It took them about half an hour to find Sakashita’s shop, with the red bicycle suspended outside and Sakashita working on repairs at a small bench by the dim light of an electric lamp, surrounded by bicycles in various stages of dismantlement and reassembly.
    At this point Duffy drifted away across the street, there to keep watch, on Morahan’s instructions, for any kind of dangerous development. Sam and Everett followed Morahan into the shop. Sakashita, a thin, wizened little man with a nervous smile, looked up at their approach and greeted them in Japanese.
    ‘Mr Sakashita?’ asked Morahan.
    ‘ Hai. ’ This