Agent Matt: Academy of Shadows

Chapter 6: Shadow Hunting

The chauffer- driven Toyota Century Second Generation cruised along a tree-lined avenue, penetrating ever deeper into the Hinamizawa countryside, its 6.75-liter light pressure V8 engine barely a whisper in the, great green silence all around Matt who sat in the back, trying to be unimpressed by this car that cost as much as a house. Forget the plush carpeting, the wooden panels, and the leather seats, he told himself. It's only a car. It was the day after his meeting at JIN 7, and, as Korindo Ooishi had ordered, his appearance had completely changed. He had to look like a rebel, the rich son who wanted to live life by his own rules. Madison did a really great job, even he couldn't tell who he was. So Matt had been dressed in purposefully provocative clothes. He was wearing a red T-shirt underneath a light blue over vest tattered at the bottom. A baggy, black hoodie with purple flames on the hood, back and arms hung off his shoulders. His faded Tommy Hilfiger jeans, frayed at the knees and ankles. Despite his protests, his hair had been greased back and flattened, and his right ear had been pierced. He could still feel it throbbing underneath the temporary stud that had been put in to keep the hole from closing.

The car had reached a set of wrought iron gates, which opened automatically to receive it. And there was Osokiuo Mansion, a great mansion with stone figures on the terrace and seven figures in the price. George Hiroku's family had lived here for generations, Mrs. Jensen had told him. They also seemed to own half the Hinamizawa countryside. The grounds stretched for miles in every direction, with sheep dotted across the hills on one side and three horses watching from an enclosure on the other. The house itself was Georgian: white brick with slender windows and columns. Everything looked very neat. There was a walled garden with evenly spaced beds, a square glass conservatory housing a swimming pool, and a series of ornamental hedges with every leaf perfectly in place. The car stopped. The horses swung their necks around to watch Matt get out, their tails rhythmically beating at flies. Nothing else moved. The chauffeur walked around to the trunk.

"Master George Hiroku will be inside," he said. He had disapproved of Matt from the moment he set eyes on him. Of course, he hadn't said as much. But he was a professional. He could show it with his eyes. Matt moved away from the car, drawn toward the conservatory on the other side of the drive. It was a warm day, the sun beating down on the glass, and the water on the other side looked suddenly inviting. He passed through an open set of doors. It was hot inside the conservatory. The smell of chlorine rose up from the water stifling him.

He had thought that the pool was empty, but as he watched, a figure swam up from the bottom, breaking through the surface just in front of him. It was a girl, dressed only in a white bikini. She had long, black hair and dark eyes, but her skin was pale. Matt guessed she must be sixteen years old and remembered what Mrs. Jensen had told him about George Hiroku. "He has a daughter ... she's a year older than you." So this must be her. He watched her heave herself out of the water. Her body was well shaped, closer to the woman she would become than the girl she had been. She was going to be beautiful. That much was certain. The trouble was, she already knew it. When she looked at Matt, arrogance flashed in her eyes.

"Who are you?" she asked. "What are you doing in here?"

"I'm Matt."

"Oh, yes." She reached for a towel and wrapped it around her neck. "Daddy said you were coming, but I didn't expect you just to walk in like this." Her voice was very adult and upper class. It sounded strange, coming out of that sixteen-year old mouth. "Do you swim?" she asked.

"Yes," Matt said.

"That's a shame. I don't like having to share the pool. Especially with a boy. And a smelly Tomoeda boy at that." She ran her eyes over Matt, taking in the torn jeans, the greased hair, and the stud in his ear. She shuddered. "I can't think what Daddy was doing, agreeing to let you stay," she went on. "And having to pretend you're my brother! What a ghastly idea! If I did have a brother, I can assure you he wouldn't look like you." Matt was wondering whether to pick the girl up and throw her back into the pool or out through a window or to tie that towel around her neck really tight, when there was a movement behind him, and he turned to see a tall, rather aristocratic man with curling grey hair and glasses, wearing a sports jacket, open-neck shirt, and cords, standing just behind him. He too seemed a little jolted by Matt's appearance, but he recovered quickly, extending a hand.

"Matt?" he demanded.

"Yes."

"I'm George Hiroku." Matt shook his hand.

"How do you do," he said politely.

"I hope you had a good journey. I see you've met my daughter." He smiled at the girl, who was now sitting beside the pool, drying herself and ignoring them both.

"We haven't actually introduced ourselves," Matt said.

"Her name is Alice."

"Alice Hiroku." Matt smiled. "That's not a name I'll forget."

"I'm sure the two of you will get along fine." George Hiroku didn't sound convinced. He gestured back toward the house. "Why don't we go and talk in the study?" Matt followed him back across the drive and into the house. The front door opened into a hall that could have come straight out of the pages of an expensive magazine. Everything was perfect, the antique furniture, ornaments, and paintings placed exactly so. There wasn't a speck of dust to be seen and even the sunlight, streaming in through the windows, seemed almost artificial, as if it was there only to bring out the best in everything it touched. It was the house of a man who knows exactly what he wants and has the time and money to get it.

"Nice place," Matt said.

"Thank you. Please come this way." George Hiroku opened a heavy, oak-panelled door to reveal a sophisticated and modern office beyond. There was a desk and two chairs, a pair of computers, a white leather sofa, and a series of metal bookshelves. George Hiroku motioned at the chair and sat down behind the desk. He was unsure of himself. Matt could see it immediately. George Hiroku might run a business empire worth millions even billions-of yen, but this was a new experience for him. Having Matt here, knowing who and what he was, he wasn't quite sure how to react. "I've been told very little about you," he began. "Korindo Ooishi got in touch with me and asked me to put you up here for the rest of the week, to pretend that you're my son. I have to say, you don't look anything like me."

"I don't look anything like myself either," Matt said.

"You're on your way to some school in the French Alps. They want you to investigate it." He paused. "Nobody asked me my opinion," he said, "But I'll give it to you anyway. I don't like the idea of a fifteen-year-old boy being used as a spy. It's dangerous-"

"I can look after myself," Matt cut in.

"I mean, it's dangerous to the government. If you manage to get yourself killed and anyone finds out, it could cause the prime minister a great deal of embarrassment." George Hiroku sighed. "I advised him against it, but for once he overruled me. It seems that the decision has already been made. This school-the academy-has already telephoned me to say that the assistant director will be coming here to pick you up next Saturday. It's a woman. A Mrs. Stenavich. That's a South African name, I think." George Hiroku had a number of bulky files on his desk. He slid them forward. "In the meantime, I understand you have to familiarize yourself with details about my family. I've prepared a number of files. You'll also find information here about one the schools you're meant to have been expelled from. You can start reading them tonight." Matt took them and he went on. "If you need to know anything more, just ask. Alice will be with you the whole time." He glanced down at his fingertips. "I'm sure that in itself will be quite an experience for you." The door opened and a woman came in. She was slim with dark hair, very much like her daughter. She was wearing a simple mauve dress with a string of pearls around her neck.

"George," she began, and then stopped, seeing Matt.

"This is my wife," Hiroku said. "Christine, this is the boy I was telling you about. Matt."

"It's very nice to meet you, Matt." Lady Christine tried to smile but her lips managed only a faint twitch. "I understand you're going to stay with us for a while."

"Yes, Mother," Matt said. Lady Christine blushed.

"He has to pretend to be our son," George Hiroku reminded her. He turned to Matt. "Alice doesn't know anything about JIN 7 and the rest of it. I don't want to alarm her. I've told her that it's connected with my work ... a social experiment, if you like. She's to pretend you're her brother, to give you a week in the country as part of the family. I'd prefer it if you didn't tell her the truth."

"Dinner is in half an hour," Lady Christine said. "Do you eat venison?" She sniffed. "Perhaps you'd like to shower before you eat? I'll show you to your room." George Hiroku stood up.

"You've got a lot of reading to do. I'm afraid I have to go back to Tomoeda tomorrow I have lunch with the president of France-so I won't be able to help you. But, as I say, if there's anything you don't know . . ."

"Alice Hiroku," Matt said.

Matt had been given a small comfortable room at the back of the house. He took a quick shower, and then put his old clothes back on again. He liked to feel clean but he had to look grimy-it suited the character of the boy he was supposed to be. He opened the first of the files. George Hiroku had been thorough. He had given Matt the names and recent histories of just about the entire family, as well as photographs of vacations, details of the house and stables in Hinamizawa, the apartments in New York, Paris, and Rome, and the villa in Barbados. There were newspaper clippings, magazine articles ...everything he could possibly need. A gong sounded. It was seven o'clock. Matt went downstairs and into the dining room. The room had six windows and a polished mahogany table long enough to seat fifteen. But only the three of them were there: George Hiroku, Lady Christine, and Alice. The food had already been served, presumably by a butler or cook. George Hiroku gestured at an empty chair. Matt sat down.

"Alice was just talking about Soloman," Lady Christine said. There was a pause. "Soloman is a horse. We have lots of horses." She turned to Matt. "Do you ride?"

"Only my bicycle," Matt said.

"I'm sure Matt isn't interested in horses," Alice said. She appeared to be in a bad mood. "In fact, I doubt if we have anything in common. Why do I have to pretend he's my brother? The whole thing is completely-"

"Alice . . . ," George Hiroku muttered in a low voice.

"Well, it's all very well having him here, Daddy, but it is meant to be my Easter vacation." Matt realized that Alice must go to a private school. Her term would have ended earlier than his. "I don't think it's fair."

"Matt is here because of my work," George Hiroku continued. It was strange, Matt thought, the way they talked about him as if he weren't actually there. "I know you have a lot of questions, Alice, but you're just going to have to do as I say. He's with us only until the end of the week. I want you to look after him."

"But he's a city boy!" Alice insisted. "He's going to hate it here. And anyway, how can pretending he's my brother help you with your supermalls?"

"Alice . . ." George Hiroku didn't want any more argument. "It's what I told you. An experiment. And you will make him feel welcome!" Alice picked up her glass and looked directly at Matt for the first time since he had come into the room.

"We'll see about that," she said.

The week seemed endless. After only two days, Matt was beginning to think that Alice was right. He was a city boy. He had lived his whole life in Tomoeda and felt utterly lost, suffocating in the big green blanket of the countryside. The estate went on for as far as the eye could see, and the Hiroku's seemed to have no connection with the real world, yet they were only miles from the small village of Hinamizawa. Matt had never felt more isolated. George Hiroku himself had disappeared to Tomoeda. Lady Christine did her best to avoid Matt. Once or twice she drove into Hinamizawa, but otherwise she seemed to spend a lot of time gardening or arranging flowers. And Alice . . . She had made it clear from the start how much she disliked Matt. There could be no reason for this. It was simply that he was an outsider, and Alice seemed to mistrust anything that didn't belong to the miniature world of Osokiuo Mansion. Yet her so called class mates at her school in Hinamizawa seem to trust him a whole lot more than she did. She'd asked him several times what he was really doing there. Matt had shrugged and said nothing, which had only made her dislike him all the more. And then, on the third day, she introduced him to some of her friends. None that went to school.

"I'm going shooting," she told him. "I don't suppose you want to come?" Matt shrugged. He had memorized most of the details in the files and figured he could easily pass as a member of the family. Now he was counting the hours until the woman from the academy arrived to take him away. "Have you ever been shooting?" Alice asked.

"No," Matt said.

"I go hunting and shooting," Alice said. "But of course, you're a city boy. You wouldn't understand."

"What's so great about killing animals?" Matt asked.

"It's part of the country way of life. It's tradition." Alice looked at him as if he were stupid. It was how she always looked at him. "Anyway, the animals enjoy it."

The shooting party turned out to be young and-apart from Alice-entirely male. Five of them were waiting on the edge of a forest that was part of the Osokiuo Mansion estate. Jameson, the leader, was sixteen and well built with dark, curling hair. He seemed to be Alice's boyfriend. The others Henry, Max, Ray, and Fred-were about the same age. Matt looked at them with a heavy heart. They had uniform Barbour jackets, tweed trousers, flat caps, and Hunts man leather boots. They spoke with uniform upper-class accents. Each of them carried a shotgun, with the barrel broken over his arm. Two of them were smoking. They gazed at Matt with barely concealed contempt. Alice must have already told them about him. The city boy. Quickly, she made the introductions. Jameson stepped forward.

"Nice to have you with us," he drawled. He ran his eyes over Matt, not bothering to hide his contempt. "Up for a bit of shooting, are you?"

"I don't have a gun," Matt said.

"Well, I'm afraid I'm not going to lend you mine." Jameson snapped the barrel back into place and held it up for Matt to see. It was inches away from his face and he was looking down the barrel of it. It was a beautiful gun, with twenty-five inches of gleaming steel stretching out of a dark walnut stock decorated with ornately carved, solid silver side plates.

"Do you like it?" he asked matt, not that he cared for his opinion. "It's an over-and-under shotgun with detachable trigger lock, handmade by Abbiatico and Salvinelli," he said. "It cost me thirty million yen-or my mother, anyway. It was a birthday present."

"It couldn't have been easy to wrap," Matt said. "Where did she put the pretty ribbon?" Jameson's smile faded.

"You wouldn't know anything about guns," he said. He nodded at one of the other teenagers, who handed Matt a much more ordinary weapon. It was old and a little rusty. "You can use this one," he said. "And if you're very good and don't get in the way, maybe we'll let you have a cartridge." They all laughed at that. Then the two smokers put out their cigarettes and everyone set off into the woods.

Thirty minutes later, Matt knew he had made a mistake in coming. The boys blasted away left and right, aiming at anything that moved. A rabbit spun in a glistening red ball. A wood pigeon tumbled out of the branches and flapped around on the leaves below. Whatever the quality of their weapons, the teenagers weren't good shots. The animals they managed to hit were only wounded, and Matt felt a growing sickness, following this trail of blood.

They reached a clearing and paused to reload. Matt turned to Alice.

"I'm going back to the house," he said.

"Why? Can't stand the sight of a little blood?" Matt glanced at a hare about fifty feet away. It was lying on its side with its back legs kicking helplessly.

"I'm surprised they let you carry guns," he said. "I thought you had to be seventeen."

Jameson overheard him. He stepped forward, an ugly look in his eyes and stared down at matt.

"We don't bother with rules in the countryside," he muttered.

"Maybe Matt wants to call a policeman!" Alice said.

"The nearest police station is forty miles from here," Jameson said with a cold smile.

"Do you want to borrow my cell phone?" one of the other boys asked. They all laughed again. Matt had had enough. Without saying another word, he turned around and walked off.

It had taken him thirty minutes to reach the clearing, but thirty minutes later he was still stuck in the woods, completely surrounded by trees and wild shrubs. Matt realized he was lost. He was annoyed with himself. He should have watched where he was going when he was following Alice and the others. The forest was enormous. Walk in the wrong direction and he might blunder onto the plains or near the shrine... and it could be days before he was found. At the same time, the spring foliage was so thick that he could barely see ten yards in any direction. How could he possibly find his way? Should he try to retrace his steps or continue forward in the hope of stumbling on the right path? Matt sensed danger before the first shot was fired. Perhaps it was the snapping of a twig or the click of a metal bolt being slipped into place. He froze-and that was what saved him. There was an explosion-loud, close-and a tree one step ahead of him shattered, splinters of wood dancing in the air. Matt turned around, searching for whoever had fired the shot.

"What are you doing?" he shouted. "You nearly hit me!" Almost immediately there was a second shot and, just behind it, a whoop of excited laughter. And then Matt realized what was happening: They hadn't mistaken him for an animal. They were aiming at him for fun. He dived forward and began to run. The trunks of the trees seemed to press in on him from all sides, threatening to bar his way. The ground underneath was soft from recent rain and dragged at his feet, trying to glue them into place. There was a third explosion. He ducked, feeling the gunshot spray above his head, shredding the foliage. Anywhere else in the world, this would have been madness. But this was the middle of the Japanese countryside and these were rich, bored teenagers who were used to having things their own way. Somehow, Matt had insulted them. Perhaps it had been the jibe about the ribbion. Perhaps it was his refusal to tell Alice who he really was. But they had decided to teach him a lesson, and they would worry about the consequences later. Did they mean to kill him?

"We don't bother with rules in the countryside," Jameson had said. If Matt was badly wounded-or even killed-they would somehow get away with it. A dreadful accident. He wasn't looking where he was going and stepped into the line of fire.

No. That was impossible.

They were trying to scare him-that was all.

Two more shots. A pheasant erupted out of the ground, a ball of spinning feathers, and screamed up into the sky. Matt ran on, his breath rasping in his throat. A thick briar reached out across his chest and tore at his clothes. He still had the gun he had been given, and he used it to beat a way through. A tangle of roots almost sent him sprawling.

"Matt? Where are you?" The voice belonged to Jameson. It was high-pitched and mocking, coming from the other side of a barrier of leaves. There was another shot, but this one went high over his head.

They couldn't see him. Had he escaped?

No, he hadn't. Matt came to a stumbling, sweating halt. He had broken out of the woods but he was still hopelessly lost. Worse-he was trapped. He had come to the edge of a wide, filthy lake. The water was a scummy brown and looked almost solid. No ducks or wild birds came anywhere near the surface. The evening sun beat down on it and the smell of decay drifted up.

"He went that way!"

"No ... through here!"

"Let's try the lake."

Matt heard the voices and knew that he couldn't let them find him here. He had a sudden image of his body, weighed down with stones, at the bottom of the lake. But that gave him an idea. He had to hide. He stepped into the water. He would need something to breathe through. He had seen people do this in films. They would lie in the water and breathe through a hollow reed. But there were no reeds here. Apart from grass and thick, slimy algae, nothing was growing at all.

One minute later, Jameson appeared at the edge of the lake, his gun still hooked over his arm. He stopped and looked around with eyes that knew the forest well. Nothing moved.

"He must have doubled back," he said. The other hunters had gathered behind him. There was tension between them now, a guilty silence.

They knew the game had gone too far.

"Let's forget him," one of them said.

"Yeah . . ."

"We've taught him a lesson."

They were in a hurry to get home. As one, they disappeared back the way they had come. Jameson was left on his own, still clutching his gun, searching for Matt. He took one last look across the water, and then turned to follow them. That was when Matt struck. He had been lying under the water, watching the vague shapes of the teenagers as if through a sheet of thick brown glass. The barrel of the shotgun was in his mouth. The rest of the gun was just above the surface of the lake. He was using the hollow tubes to breathe. Now he rose up-a nightmare creature oozing mud and water, with fury in his eyes. Jameson heard him but he was too late. Matt swung the shotgun, catching Jameson in the small of the back. Jameson grunted and fell to his knees, his own gun falling out of his hands. Matt picked it up. There were two cartridges in the breech. He snapped the gun shut and pointed it at him. Jameson looked at him, and suddenly all the arrogance had gone and he was just a stupid, frightened teenager, struggling to get to his knees.

"Matt . . ." The single word came out as a whimper. It was as if he were seeing Matt for the first time. "I'm sorry!" he snivelled. "We weren't really going to hurt you. It was a joke. Alice put us up to it. We just wanted to scare you. Please . . . don't kill me." Matt's finger had been on the trigger and his eyes were burning with hatred. His white teeth were bearing like a mad animal about to attack. Matt lowered the gun. He paused, breathing heavily.

"How do I get out of here?" he asked.

"Just follow the lake around," Jameson said. "There's a path, but it will take you to Hinamizawa."

"I'll take my chances." Jameson was still on his knees. There were tears in his eyes. Matt realized that he was still pointing the silver-plated shotgun in his direction. He turned it away, disgusted with himself. This boy wasn't the enemy. He was nothing.

"Don't follow me," Matt said and began to walk.

"Please!" Jameson called after him. "Can I have my gun back? My mother would kill me if I lost it." Matt stopped. He weighed the weapon in his hands, and then threw it with all his strength. The handcrafted Italian shotgun spun twice in the dying light, then disappeared with a splash in the middle of the lake.

"You're too young to play with guns," he said. He walked away, letting the forest swallow him up.