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its meaning. A sad and bitter but important truth.
    Kawashima was writing thoughts down as they occurred to him, but now he stopped himself. He went back and erased everything after ‘need a change of clothes as well’. In large, bold characters he wrote: THOUGHTS IRRELEVANT TO PLANNING AND PREPARATION HAVE NO PLACE IN THIS NOTEBOOK!!
    The sun had long since set, and he looked at his watch: eight o’clock already. It’s been hours, he thought, and it feels like minutes. Had he ever been this engrossed in anything before? He took a Cola from the minibar, popped it open, and had a sip. He was beginning to feel as if any number of things he’d done and experienced in the past had helped prepare him for this mission. And to wonder, in fact, if this wasn’t the end to which all the events of his life had been leading him.
    He was already beginning to forget, in other words, the original motive behind the plan - to relieve his fear of stabbing the baby.
    Plain jeans and a sweatshirt for the change of clothes. Nothing too baggy or bulky, however. Choose a sweatshirt of thin material. Same with the jeans. Two pairs of well-fitting leather gloves. Great care must be taken in use of gloves. Most natural to remove right-hand glove when checking in.
    Fortunately no scars remained from when he’d burned his hand ten years before. No need to be too concerned about fingerprints when he checked in, either. It was unlikely anyone would remember which counter or which pen he’d used, and they’d all be covered with prints anyway. Leaving the glove on - especially while writing something - would, like sunglasses, only invite attention. It had been Kawashima’s experience that whenever you were trying to hide something, others would somehow pick up on that, and surely any desk clerk would take notice of someone wearing gloves when filling out the registration card. Hotel workers were trained to be observant and adept at pretending not to be.
    Assuming he declined the bellboy’s help, he should take the key with his gloved hand and wear both gloves when opening the door and at all times after entering the room. He mustn’t leave any fingerprints at the scene, if only to make it seem like the work of a man with a lot of experience. The police would be inclined to search for someone who had a record, and make lists of known deviants and sex offenders.
    But of course he couldn’t wear gloves from the time the woman arrived until he had her immobilised, for fear of arousing her suspicions. After tying her up, he’d put them back on. Poker-faced, naturally, slowly adjusting the black leather fingers, one at a time. Then the ball gag. Not one that would completely seal her mouth; she must be allowed to vocalise in a limited way. The bloodied gloves and the jeans and sweatshirt he’d stuff in separate vinyl bags, remembering first to put on the spare pair of gloves. He’d best double- or triple-bag everything, which meant he’d need to collect a number of bags from convenience stores. Cloth duct tape. Cardboard and thick paper with which to wrap the tip of the ice pick and the blade of the knife. And he’d need something to weigh the bags down when he threw them in the river - divers’ weights would be ideal. Add them to the packages with the ice pick and knife as well. Once everything had been disposed of, it might be safest to leave his travel bag near a group of homeless men in a park somewhere. In which case, of course, a Louis Vuitton was out of the question.
    The knife and the ice pick he’d buy at separate supermarkets in the suburbs. Preferably on Saturday afternoon or Sunday, when they were at their busiest. Did he need to do a dry run - order up a woman from a different S&M club one time before the big night, to acquaint himself with the procedure? The experience might prove useful, but there was also a slight possibility of danger. What if the first woman and the one to be sacrificed happened to be friends, for example? A