The Heat of the Sun

the sky kept dripping; the moon, like a round rancid cheese, insisted its way through the clouds, and in the sickly light I saw Wainwright’s corpse dance
towards me, flesh falling already from its face, taunting me that Yanks were bastards and I was a bastard more than most, abandoning an English gentleman to die like this. I called out: “But
I didn’t! Wainwright, I didn’t, I swear. They separated us. I wanted to find you.”
    ‘Then it was gone; the corpse lay unmoving again, but I feared it would rear up a second time, then a third, capering around me in dizzying derangement. But the ghost was nowhere in sight
when I felt the knife at my neck.
    ‘“Don’t move.” The voice was a whisper. “Move your head and I cut your jugular.”
    ‘I didn’t need more persuading.
    ‘“I wondered what happened to you, and now I know. Not so cocky these days are we, Mr Le Vol?”
    ‘The urge to gulp came upon me and I struggled to hold it back, picturing my Adam’s apple sliced open by the blade. My new companion edged around to face me. The moon was behind him;
his features were in shadow, but I knew him now. Eight years had passed since the first time I saw him; he had lost a certain boyishness, but still I should have recognized him at once. How many
times had he stood over me in that dungeon in Nagasaki? He had ordered my tortures. He wasn’t Hirohito. His name was Isamu, Prince Yamadori’s nephew.
    ‘I said, “The funny thing is, I’m not even a soldier. I’m a civilian.”
    ‘“You’re a propagandist for the enemy’s cause. Do you think I care how you got here? You’re where you deserve to be.”
    ‘“And you? I’ve heard things, you know. In this camp, we’re not so cut off as in Burma. There are fellows here from all over; some of them got here recently. The
tide’s turned against you Japs, hasn’t it? You thought you’d conquer the world. Now you’re fighting to hang on to your own paltry islands. Your cities are ruined. Your
pilots smash themselves into American warships. You’re desperate. It’s over. Just a matter of time, and not much now.”
    ‘I thought I had said too much, but Isamu made no move to drive the blade into my neck. To my surprise, he sheathed it. He smiled at me. “Over, you say? Americans like everything to
be so decisive. This war is just one turning of a wheel, Mr Le Vol, and the wheel shall turn again. Nothing begins; nothing ends; your victories of today shall be paid for in the defeats of the
morrow.”
    ‘“Why didn’t you have me killed?” I said. “Like Wainwright?”
    ‘He looked down, then up, and I saw his face more clearly, smooth and radiant as a mask in the moonlight. “Permit me, your barbarian enemy, to display a little sentiment. There is no
love lost between us, Mr Le Vol. Part of me should like to see you dead. But think how grievously I should upset Mr Sharpless. And I shouldn’t like him to live without a friend.”
    ‘I could barely credit what I was hearing. “I don’t understand. What do you care about Sharpless?”
    ‘“It’s complicated. And not your business.”
    ‘“So what do you propose to do with me?” I said.
    ‘He stepped close. “I have informed my staff,” he whispered, “that you are a valuable prisoner, a man it behooves us to keep alive. While I am not obliged to offer
explanations, I have intimated that my uncle has been attempting for some time to track you down. Tomorrow, after I am gone, you shall be taken to Bangkok and thence to Nagasaki, where you shall be
kept in whatever safety we can provide until the end of the war. Don’t look alarmed, Mr Le Vol. Behave yourself and you shall be treated with the utmost respect.”
    ‘I could have laughed at him. “What makes you think I want this? Do you have any idea what I’ve been through, while you’ve been swanning about East Asia on royal
tours?”
    ‘“I too have been through things, Mr Le Vol. We’ve all been through things. I don’t pretend to know you, but I suspect you won’t hold out for some absurd martyrdom.
Shall you throw back my offer in my face – say you’d rather die? I don’t think so.”
    ‘“Why are you doing this? You mentioned Sharpless, but—”
    ‘“Do you know what love is, Mr Le Vol?”
    ‘Now I really didn’t know what he was talking about. He stepped forward; then, to my astonishment, he kissed me on the lips.
    ‘“Perhaps one day you’ll understand,” he said. “All that I do, all that