Slowly, Shoji regained some control of his body. He tried to wriggle. His arms were under his back, and his ankles and wrists were bound. Who had done this? And why? The whistling sounded close by now. If he could turn around, he’d be able to see whoever it was. But Shoji was paralysed.

Clenching his fists, he dug his nails as hard as he could into his skin. The jolt of pain woke him up a little and he managed to turn his head slightly.

A man naked from the waist up stood nearby, ironing a white shirt and whistling. He had white hair and wore black trousers held up with a black leather belt. Countless scars marked his heavily tattooed back. Not far from where he stood, a black jacket hung from the top of a wardrobe door.

Shoji held his breath. Mr Sato, he wanted to say, but the words disappeared in his throat.

The man turned and their eyes met.

‘Mr Arai, it’s been a while,’ Mr Sato said. He went to the wardrobe and took out a hanger for his freshly ironed shirt. ‘Do you remember me? We used to work for the same company.’

‘What did you do to me?’ Shoji asked, his voice small and hoarse.

Mr Sato hooked the shirt in front of the jacket. ‘You’re feeling numb and paralysed because of the drug I injected you with. Don’t worry, the effects should wear off within a day. The actual time differs for each individual, but you’ll be like this for the next couple of hours at least.’ He turned to face Shoji. ‘I hope you don’t mind me borrowing the iron. I hate crumpled fabric, and it wasn’t easy carrying you up to the first floor.’

‘You were the one who spoke to me on the phone, weren’t you?’

Mr Sato laughed. ‘Yes, I’ve been lenient but, unfortunately, you didn’t deserve my generosity. Why couldn’t you do as you were told?’

A chill ran down Shoji’s spine. Calm down, he told himself. He had to assess the situation. Was Mr Sato planning to kill him?

Mr Sato pursed his lips. ‘I read the heartfelt letter you wrote, though, my apologies, I had to get rid of it. You’re a fine writer.’

The letter … If Mr Sato had read it, he would know about Yoko.

‘I can’t have you going to the police, telling them about the company. Not when I told the boss you had already been taken care of.’

Shoji swallowed hard. ‘Why are you here? What do you want?’

‘I’m just doing my work.’ Mr Sato took out a pair of white gloves from his trouser pocket and put them on. ‘I am a cleaner. You know what I mean?’

‘I don’t care what you do to me, but please spare Yoko.’