Chapter 4 | Contents | Chapter 6
Kathmandu in June was neither hot nor cold, and while it was overpopulated, the city was enveloped in a comforting silence at night. Covered by a patchwork quilt, I closed my eyes.
It was probably due to the dream. I couldn’t remember what it was about, but it wasn’t a good one. I woke up in the pitch-dark room, and feeling short of breath, I held my chest. A sense of unease weighed heavily on my heart, as if I’d done something I shouldn’t have, or like someone had caught me doing something shameful.
I got up from the bed. I didn’t think I would be able to fall sleep again without drinking some water. Tap water in Kathmandu was not safe to drink, and had to be boiled first. Picking up the electric kettle provided in the room, I headed towards the sink.
At that moment, I heard someone’s voice.
It was short, and sounded like a growl.
The walls of the lodge were thin, but the voice didn’t sound like it came from a room next door. It was probably from a different floor. I waited for a moment, but didn’t hear any more of it.
With my drowsiness worn off, I felt like finding out who the voice belonged to. After leaving the electric kettle on the table, I quickly took off my nightclothes, then put on a white shirt and pair of chino pants. Just in case, I decided to bring something for self-protection. With a quick glance around the room, the first item I spotted was the kukri that Sagar had sold to me. But after thinking about it for a bit, I decided not to bring it along. Carrying such a large blade could actually make it more dangerous. That said, I couldn’t find a suitable replacement, so I held a ballpoint pen instead. It probably wouldn’t be of any use, but it was still comforting to have around.
I went out of my room and locked the door. The sound of the latch clicking shut echoed surprisingly loudly. The corridor was not lit. They had probably turned the lights off to save electricity. However, thanks to the light seeping out under the door to Rob’s room, my eyes that were already accustomed to the dark managed to see quite well.
Thinking that I heard something, I strained my ears… it was a voice. Someone was talking. It didn’t sound like it was in English, but I couldn’t quite make it out.
For a moment I tried finding the voice’s direction. It seemed to be from above. I headed to the staircase on tiptoe. The floorboards creaked under my feet.
Even when I got up to the third floor, I could not find the voice’s source. That meant the voice was coming from the dining room on the highest floor. I looked up to see that it was actually lit upstairs. After checking behind to ensure that I could immediately escape if anything went awry, I rushed up the sairs.
The dining room was illuminated by an orange lightbulb. The light was dim, so my eyes quickly adjusted to it. A man was there. He was sitting in a chair, facing one of the small round tables in the dining room. He cast a large shadow on the sky-blue wall.
I recognized him. He was the man who had been talking on the phone in the lobby during the afternoon. He was wearing a loose-wearing flannel set. That was probably his nightwear. In front of him on the table was a silver-colored radio. That was where the voice was coming from.
The man stood up. Seeing me unconsciously brace myself, he spoke in a flat voice.
“Oh, sorry. Did I startle you?”
“No.”
“We met in the afternoon, didn’t we? Right, I also troubled you with my phone call. But…”
He turned his eyes to the radio.
“Some truly terrifying news has just come out.”
The voice playing from the radio sounded like it was in Nepalese. As I listened to the rapid-fire speech, which didn’t sound like a typical news report, I could feel a sense of tension that made my limbs go stiff, even though I didn’t understand what was being said.
“What kind of news is it, mister…”
“Shukumar. I came from India. I sell tableware and buy carpets.”
“Thank you, Shukumar-san. I’m Tachiarai from Japan. The news seems to be in Nepalese, so I don’t understand.”
Shukumar started to say something, but suddenly closed his mouth and shook his head.
“I think you should hear it for yourself. Please wait for a while. The BBC has an English broadcast.”
“BBC?”
I couldn’t help but ask.
“Surely it isn’t that British broadcaster?”
“It is. Like India, Nepal has a deep relationship with Britain. Did you know that during the First War of Independence, Nepalese soldiers fought in the British army?”
“…No.”
“Well, perhaps because of that, the BBC has a broadcasting station in Nepal.”
Shukumar sat down in his chair and picked up the radio. Following him, I pulled out a chair. He turned a knob on the radio, causing the news to turn into static, and eventually words began to mingle with the static. “King”… That was the first word to enter my ears.
Suddenly, the noise disappeared, and the words became clear. Almost as if the show had begun at that exact moment, the announcer started reporting on the situation.
“King Birendra and Queen Aishwarya have been killed by Crown Prince Dipendra. The Crown Prince appears to have taken his own life afterwards.”
“Killed”? Was that supposed to be some sort of slang?
“Yesterday, during a dinner party that has become a custom at the Narayanhiti Palace, Their Majesties were shot by the Crown Prince. Many other casualties have been reported. The Crown Prince appears to have taken his own life following the shooting. Only fragmentary information has come through from the palace. I repeat: King Birendra and Queen Aishwarya have been killed by the Crown Prince…”
I looked at Shukumar, and he nodded gravely.
“I could not believe it, but they have been repeating the same news. Do you now understand why I raised my voice?”
“Are other stations reporting the same news?”
I asked, but he shook his head.
“No, at least not for now.”
As if my appearance had helped him recover from the shock, Shukumar placed both hands on the table, and sighed deeply.
“I had some business concerns, you see, and I could not sleep, so I brought the radio up here. However, every station was only playing music. I found that to be strange, so I kept switching stations, until I found this. I just could not believe…”
With those words, Shukumar shook his head. I could feel a part of my head growing cold and starting to move – the king was murdered.
At that moment, I remembered what I was.
“Sorry, what time is it?”
“Now… it is half past two.”
The time difference between Japan and Nepal was three hours and 15 minutes. That would make it currently 5:45 in the morning in Japan, so even if I called my former employer, Toyo Newspaper, it wouldn’t be in time for the morning paper. The news would only be broken in the evening paper for the 2nd of June.
Not being able to use my mobile phone was frustrating. I hadn’t thought that something like this would happen, and hadn’t prepared one that could be used in Nepal.
“The phone in this lodge can make international calls, right?”
Shukumar frowned.
“Of course… that is what I would like to say, but you need a staff member to be present. Would you wake Ms. Chameli up at this hour?”
Naturally, the phone shops in the city would also be closed. Perhaps I would have to wake Chameli up, even if it pained me to do so.
I exhaled softly. I needed to calm down.
Even if I woke her up, even if I tried conveying this information to newspaper or magazine companies in Japan, they would already know. There was a network of news agencies across the globe dedicated solely to breaking news. Since it was being broadcast on BBC radio, news agencies like Reuters and AFP must have already transmitted the news. Just because I learned about the murders on the ground didn’t mean that I could provide more detailed information than Reuters.
I tuned in to the radio again.
The basics of reporting lie in 4W1H: When, Where, Who, What and How. At this early stage, the question of “Why” should not be considered. That would be jumping to conclusions.
The news being repeatedly broadcast by the BBC had the basic 4W1H laid out. Of course, since it was an initial report, it could not be taken at face value. Some information might get corrected when morning comes. As I had that thought, I noticed something strange.
“They didn’t state their sources.”
The radio did not mention who reported the incident at the palace. There were no phrases like “According to the Ministry of Internal Affairs” or “According to the palace spokesperson”… Basically, this was probably the BBC’s scoop.
This implied the possibility that the government was intentionally delaying their announcement. The other radio stations weren’t reporting on the shooting because they were unable to obtain that information, or because they were being pressured not to. Since they were only playing music, it was most likely the latter. However, if the BBC was the only source, that would make the accuracy of that breaking news report somewhat questionable. If this was Japan, I would be able to confirm it with the police and hospitals, but… I frantically suppressed the urge to run off. Going out alone at night would be suicide.
It was frustrating, but there was nothing I could do tonight. When I looked outside, I could see the city shrouded in darkness through the wide-open window.
“Breaking news: King Birendra and Queen Aishwarya have been killed by Crown Prince Dipendra. The Crown Prince appears to have taken his own life afterwards…”
“This is going to be a real mess.”
Shukumar muttered.
On this night, that was the only thing I could be certain of.
Even though my sleep had been so light that I kept waking up in the middle of the night, after hearing the big news and returning to my room, I fell sound asleep as if I’d passed out. It had always been like this for me. Whenever I understood that I had to rest because I had things to do the next day, I would be able to sleep soundly no matter the circumstances. Perhaps it was just my constitution, but I felt truly blessed in that regard.
I’d learned the day before that people in this country do not eat breakfast. Yet I headed for the dining room on the fourth floor after waking and washing up. I thought that if Shukumar was listening to the radio again, I could listen with him. However, the only guest in the dining room was Yatsuda. Sitting next to him was Chameli.
In the dining room was a TV that hadn’t been there yesterday. It was about 16 inches in size and was placed on top of a table with wheels. It seemed to be kept away under normal circumstances and only taken out when necessary. Speaking of which, it was never needed more than this morning. In front of Yatsuda was a tin mug filled with some beverage.
When I entered, Yatsuda greeted me.
“Good morning.”
I returned a nod. In the TV, a young female newscaster was reading off a script with a tense expression on her face. She was speaking in English. As expected, it was about the death of the king and queen.
Yatsuda immediately noticed that I wasn’t surprised.
“You knew?”
“Yeah. I found out through Shukumar’s radio last night.”
He folded his arms, causing the sleeves of his kasaya to sway.
“I learned about it this morning. It is a frightening story.”
“All I heard was that last night at a dinner party, the crown prince shot and killed the king and queen, then killed himself. Did the Nepal government make an announcement?”
Yatsuda stared intently at my face, before replying with a look of understanding.
“Right, you are a reporter after all.”
I nodded silently.
After a quick glance at the TV, he turned his entire body towards me.
“No, the government is still silent. But if that is all you know, two new pieces of information have come to light.”
He spoke solemnly.
“Firstly, the crown prince may not have died.”
“Was it misinformation?”
“That is unclear. In any case, they are saying on television that Dipendra intended to end his own life, but did not die, and is now unconscious.”
“Did they say anything about his prognosis?”
“No… anyway, the second point is that not just the king and queen died.”
“Who else?”
A deep wrinkle was etched between Yatsuda’s eyebrows.
“The other princes and princesses… in other words, the crown prince’s brothers and sisters were also shot. The announcer’s script keeps changing, from five dead to seven dead to twelve, so the total number is uncertain.”
“That’s…”
But I was momentarily lost for words. Good grief! Did he really kill his parents and siblings…
I swallowed my saliva and asked.
“I heard that last night’s dinner party is a custom. Did the newscaster mention if anyone outside the royal family attended it?”
The image I had of a dinner party in a palace was a ceremony to which foreign guests were invited. If so, it could escalate into an international issue.
Yatsuda thought for a while.
“…I do not think they said anything about that. But she should be more knowledgeable about the dinner party than I am.”
Switching from Japanese to English, he addressed the lodge’s proprietress, who was glued to the TV.
“Excuse me, Chameli-san. Could you tell her what you know?”
“What I know?”
“Yes. She is a journalist from Japan, and she would like to know what kind of gathering last night’s dinner party was.”
Chameli spoke while casting occasional, wistful glances at the TV.
“Ms. Tachiarai, you are a reporter?”
“Yeah.”
I replied. Chameli cast one last glance at the TV, then turned her head towards me, as if she’d made her mind up about something.
“The royal family gathers on the third Friday of every month.”
She began to speak slowly.
Yesterday was thet 1st of June. No matter what calendar you used, it could not be the third Friday of the month. Chameli anticipated my question.
“I said every month, but not in the Western calendar. It follows the Nepalese calendar… which is known as the Vikram Samvat1. Yesterday was the third Friday of Jeth, the second month of the Vikrami calendar. I heard that the royal family gathers every third Friday to have dinner together.”
“Dinner? Not a dinner party?”
“It is a dinner for royalty, so it must be extravagant like a dinner party. But from what I know, all they do is have a meal together.”
So it was close to a family gathering, so to speak. If so, there was little fear that people from other countries got caught up in the shooting.
“Was that useful?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“That is good to hear… um, Ms. Tachiarai, would you like to have some morning chai?”
I didn’t know what chai was, but it was probably the beverage in front of Yatsuda. That was an attractive suggestion, but I needed to hurry. I glanced at my wristwatch to find that it was a little past eight. After adding the time difference of three hours and 15 minutes, it would be about 11:15 in Japan, so would definitely be someone at the magazine’s editorial department.
“Thank you very much, but before that, could I use the telephone? I want to make a call to Japan.”
Chameli looked bewildered. It must be rare for her chai to be refused.
As expected, there was only one telephone available to guests that could make external calls, and it was the one at the lobby. Following behind Chameli, I swiftly went down the stairs.
In the lobby, Gobin was wiping the front desk with a rag. With a gesture, Chameli sent him away.
“International phone calls are 160 rupees per minute. Is that alright?”
“Yeah.”
I immediately replied, causing Chameli’s eyes to open wide in surprise.
“Umm, but since you are a guest from Japan, you can get the special rate of 150 rupees per minute.”
I didn’t think that I would be able to haggle even for the telephone rate. I could have probably pushed it down further, but I currently didn’t have the time to indulge in Nepalese-style bargaining.
“Alright, thanks.”
Chameli went behind the front desk and brought out a stopwatch. I flipped through my notebook. While making a reservation from Japan, I’d taken down the phone number for Tokyo Lodge. I quickly found the right page.
“They might want to call back. Is it alright if I give them this number?”
“Yes.”
“Can you receive faxes?”
“That is…”
Perhaps there was no precedent, for Chameli looked perplexed.
“If you pay the additional cost.”
“I understand. Is it the same number as the telephone?”
“Correct.”
I picked up the receiver, then pressed 00 for international calls, 81 for Japan, and 3 for Tokyo. In Japan, it became common for me to look up numbers in my mobile phone’s memory when making a call, but I made it a point to memorize important phone numbers.
I brushed my hair back and pressed the receiver against my ear. I heard a few faint, crackling sounds, followed by the ringing tone. But that only lasted a brief moment, and my call was answered on the second ring.
“This is the editorial department for Shinsou Monthly.”
The sound quality was bad, but I knew who it was. The editor-in-chief was the one to answer my call. That was a stroke of luck.
“Makino-san, this is Tachiarai.”
“…Oh! You’re already there, right? You safe and sound?”
Makino was the one who had invited me to contribute for a special feature on travel in Asia that would start in August. Basically, he was my client, and he knew that I was currently in Kathmandu. Since the first thing he asked was about my safety, he should know about the incident at the palace.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“That’s good. Think you can come back?”
“I don’t know yet. But rather than going back immediately, I was thinking of staying here for a short while.”
“…I see.”
Makino’s tone changed. He must have sensed that I was talking about work.
“Can you report on the case?”
“Yes.”
Shinsou Monthly was a general-interest news magazine. While it focused on domestic news, it covered topics from sports to politics, and also often included international news.
I could almost picture Makino’s gestures from just his voice coming through the phone’s speaker. He’d definitely switched the receiver to his other hand, propped an elbow on the edge of his desk that was heaped with all manner of papers, and was stroking his mustache.
“Got a camera on you?”
“Yes, though it’s just a digital camera.”
“Digital camera? That’s fine. You can send photos as digital files, right? You have internet access over there?”
“Yes.”
I’d just confirmed the day before that the telephone shop could connect to the internet.
“Good. You know my email address, right?”
“I have it on hand.”
“Great. You can send the photos over any time. And… right, I’ll leave six pages for you.”
“Thanks.”
“We’ll need three photos. One will be large across a double-page spread.”
At the newspaper company, I mostly had to write articles that would be on the next day’s paper, so I still wasn’t used to the workflow at a monthly magazine. Still, I understood that getting six pages at this point with the deadline fast approching was an exceptionally generous offer.
Makino then spoke in a glaring voice.
“So, a regicide, huh. How do we approach this?”
Generally speaking, Nepal would not be familiar to people in Japan. It might be necessary to start by explaining that it was a monarchy.
“I heard that the perpetrator was the crown prince, and that he killed himself. Is that true?”
“That is what the BBC said. However, I heard that he intended to commit suicide, but did not die.”
“The BBC? The British station? It’s in Nepal?”
“Yes, it is.”
“I see. Well, in that case I suppose it can be trusted.”
He then fell into silence for a while. I told him, just in case.
“Makino-san, it costs 150 yen per minute.”
He laughed.
“I know. We’ll pay for it, so be sure to get a receipt.”
“Will do.”
I heard the sound of someone taking a sudden breath.
“The news of a prince killing the king even in the 21st century will have tremendous impact. We could sensationalize it as much as we want, but, well, we’re not that kind of magazine. Shame, though… Anyway, start with an overview of the country’s situation, then focus on the sequence of events, and convey firsthand accounts of the incident. Of course, adjust things on the fly as new information becomes available. This is going to be a full-fledged investigative report. Think you can write it?”
“I will.”
He carried on as though he hadn’t heard my response at all.
“As for the deadline… it won’t mean anything if it’s not in time for this month’s issue.”
For a monthly magazine, the timeliness of news is hardly ever a problem. Still, I wanted to meet the deadline if I could. Not prioritizing immediacy in news coverage is a different matter from postponing an article to the next month. If so, I didn’t have much time.
“You know when our deadline is?”
“The 10th, right?”
“But for this month, the 10th is a Sunday. What happens then?”
It was bad timing on the calendar. Since the printing house is closed on Sundays, the deadline would be moved up.
As a freelancer, I was usually given a deadline that was set early enough to allow for some leeway. However, Makino stated it clearly.
“I’ll cut to the chase. The deadline is on the 6th.”
“I’ll send it via fax.”
“The galley proof2 will be out on the 7th, and needs to be returned the same day. Will you still be in Nepal then?”
“I don’t know, but I will definitely be somewhere with a FAX.”
“Great. Give me the number where you’re at.”
I read out the telephone number while looking at my notebook. Mindful of the stopwatch that Chameli was looking at, I added.
“This is the hotel’s number, so I don’t know who will answer. Please be careful of how you ask for me.”
“Got it. Anything we can do over here?”
“The governments of various countries should be giving their statements soon. When the Japanese government releases its official position, could you keep a record of it for me?”
“Sure thing.”
At that moment, I recalled what Yatsuda had told me at the tempura restaurant. Nepal used to be ruled under a monarchy, but was democratized 11 years ago. I switched the telephone receiver to my other hand.
“It would also be really helpful if you could look into the background of King Birendra as much as you can and send that information to be by FAX. Use the same number as the telephone.”
“What a slave-driver! Well, it’s not that bad. Sure, you can leave it to me.”
“Thanks.”
Makino made a final remark.
“Tachiarai, you’re bold to a fault, y’know? If things get too rough, there’s no shame in turning tail and running. It’ll be too late if you decide to run after they close their borders.”
“…Thank you for your concern.”
“150 yen per minute, right? Take care, and catch you later!”
He hung up.
With the receiver still by my ear, I fell into thought for a while. I’d secured a commitment to have an article published and to have my expenses covered. From now on, it was all about taking action. I’d never even dreamed that the first job I get as a freelancer would be a case like this, though.
I put down the receiver. Chameli immediately looked at her stopwatch.
“7 minutes and 30 seconds, which makes it 1125 rupees.”
The amount of time I’d spent thinking after the call ended was, of course, included in the bill. Damn. I took my wallet out of my sling bag, then placed the exact amount on the front desk.
“Could I have a receipt, please?”
I received a scrap of paper with “1125 rupees received – Tokyo Lodge” written on it. They probably had no standard payment receipt form.
Even after the bill was settled, Chameli made no move to leave. It seemed that she wanted to talk to me about something. I also wanted to talk to her. After all, the only Nepalese person I’d gotten close to was Sagar. It would be good to hear an adult’s perspective.
“This has turned into quite a mess, hasn’t it?”
I started the ball rolling with an innocuous statement. Chameli nodded.
“It is very frightening. This is supposed to be the time of year when we get more customers, but this happened… I have already gotten a few calls saying they want to cancel.”
“How many people are staying here now?”
“Four. Having only four guests at this time of year will make it hard for us to stay afloat.”
Meaning that besides me, only Rob, Shukumar and Yatsuda were staying here.
Indeed, this would certainly have a major negative impact on business. Nepal was a nation built on tourism. It wouldn’t be just Tokyo Lodge struggling to make ends meet.
“Ms. Tachiarai, you are a journalist, right? Could you write that Kathmandu is safe?”
“About that… I haven’t seen what it’s like outside, so I cannot say anything yet.”
“I see…”
“Erm, by the way, I have a few questions I’d like to ask.”
I couldn’t do anything for Chameli. I couldn’t promise to write “Kathmandu is safe” without conducting any research. Even so, I was getting her to answer my questions.
“Alright.”
Chameli raised her head and let out a mild grin.
“…I want to find out more about the incident. Do you know anyone who might be familiar with the details?”
I really wasn’t expecting that much. However, as I was sometimes keenly reminded while doing this job, people are connected in ways I would never expect. Are thinking for a while, she answered hesitantly.
“An acquaintance of my husband works at the palace.”
“At the palace?”
My voice cracked.
“Yes. He is a soldier, and I think he was on duty last night too. He might know something.”
A soldier on guard duty at the palace would be an ideal source of information. Unwittingly, I found myself growing more and more eager.
“Chameli-san, could you get into contact with this person as fast as possible?”
“Yes, I think so. He is always so kind to me, so I think I can ask him to help.”
I reopened my notebook and readied my pen.
“Could you tell me the name of this person?”
“He is Rajeshwar. Warrant Officer Rajeshwar. He can be quite a difficult person, but…”
That was a name I’d heard before.
Chapter 4 | Contents | Chapter 6
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Editors (Tier 2): Dedavond, Pearl H Nettle
Assistants (Tier 1) : Rolando Sanchez, Lilliam, Yousef, Maria C
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- A lunisolar calendar that has twelve lunar months and a 13th shorter month every year (since a solar year is made up of approximately 12.37 lunar months).
- A preliminary, pre-publication version of a book, article, or other printed work used by authors and editors to catch final errors and check formatting before mass printing.
This one has been really unique compared to his other works