"I hear you," Johnnie Walker said admiringly. "You've never killed anybody before, so you don't know how to go about it. All right then, let me explain. The knack to killing someone, Mr. Nakata, is not to hesitate. Focus your prejudice and execute it swiftly-that's the ticket when it comes to killing. I have an excellent example right here. It's not a person, but it might help you get the picture."

Johnnie Walker stood up and picked up a large leather case from the shadows below the desk. He placed it on the chair where he'd been sitting and opened it, whistling a cheery tune. As if performing a magic trick, he extracted a cat from out of the case. Nakata had never seen this cat before, a gray-striped male that had just reached adulthood. The cat was limp, but its eyes were open. It looked conscious, though only barely. Still whistling his merry tune-"Heigh-Ho" from Disney's Snow White, the one the Seven Dwarves sang-Johnnie Walker held up the cat like he was showing off a fish he'd just caught.

"I've got five cats inside this case, all from that vacant lot. A fresh batch. Just picked, fresh from the grove, so to speak. I've given them all injections to paralyze them. It's not an anesthetic-they're not asleep and they can feel pain, but they can't move their arms or legs. Or even their heads. I do this to keep them from thrashing about. What I'm going to do is slice open their chests with a knife, extract their still-beating hearts, and cut their heads off. Right in front of your eyes. There'll be lots of blood, and unimaginable pain. Imagine how much it'd hurt if somebody cut open your chest and pulled out your heart! Same thing holds true for cats-it's got to hurt. I feel sorry for the poor little things. I'm not some cold, cruel sadist, but there's nothing I can do about it. There has to be pain. That's the rule. Rules everywhere you look here." He winked at Nakata. "A job's a job. Got to accomplish your mission. I'm going to dispose of one cat after another, and finish off Goma last. So you still have some time to decide what you should do. Remember, now-it's either I kill the cats or you kill me. There's no other choice."

Johnnie Walker placed the limp cat on top of the desk, opened a drawer, and with both hands extracted a large black package. He carefully unwrapped it and spread out the contents on the desk. These included a small electric saw, scalpels of various sizes, and a very large knife, all of them gleaming like they'd just been sharpened. Johnnie Walker lovingly checked each and every blade as he lined them up on the desk. Next he got several metal trays from another drawer and arranged them, too, on the desk. Then he took a large black plastic bag from a drawer. All the while whistling "Heigh-Ho."

"As I mentioned, Mr. Nakata, in everything there's a proper order," Johnnie Walker said. "You can't look too far ahead. Do that and you'll lose sight of what you're doing and stumble. I'm not saying you should focus solely on details right in front of you, mind you. You've got to look ahead a bit or else you'll bump into something. You've got to follow the proper order and at the same time keep an eye out for what's ahead. That's critical, no matter what you're doing."

Johnnie Walker narrowed his eyes and gently stroked the cat's head. He ran the tip of his index finger up and down the cat's belly, then picked up a scalpel in his right hand and without any warning made an incision straight down the stomach. It all happened in an instant. The belly split wide open and reddish guts spilled out. The cat tried to scream but barely made any sound at all. His tongue, after all, was numb, and he could hardly open his mouth. But his eyes were contorted in terrible pain. And Nakata could well imagine how awful this pain was. A moment later blood gushed out, wetting Johnnie Walker's hands and running down his vest. But he didn't pay attention. Still to the accompaniment of "Heigh-Ho," he thrust his hand inside the cat's body and with a small scalpel skillfully cut loose the tiny heart.

He placed the gory lump on his palm and held it out for Nakata to see. "Take a peek. It's still beating."

Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he popped the heart into his mouth and began chewing silently, leisurely savoring the taste. His eyes glistened like a child enjoying a pastry hot from the oven.

He wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and carefully licked his lips clean. "Fresh and warm. And still beating in my mouth."

Nakata stared at the scene before him without a word. He couldn't look away. The smell of fresh blood filled the room.

Still whistling his jolly tune, Johnnie Walker sawed the cat's head off. The teeth of the saw crunched through the bone and severed it. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing. The neck bone wasn't very thick, so the whole operation was quickly finished. But the sound had a strange weight to it. Johnnie Walker lovingly placed the severed head on the metal tray. As if relishing a work of art, he narrowed his eyes and gazed at it intently. He stopped whistling for a second, extracted something stuck between his teeth with a fingernail, popped it in his mouth and carefully tasted it, then smacked his lips, satisfied, and gulped it down. Next he opened the black plastic bag and casually tossed in the dead cat's body like some useless shell.

"One down," Johnnie Walker said, spreading his bloody hands in front of Nakata. "A bit of work, don't you think? You can enjoy a nice fresh heart, but look how bloody you get. No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red. A line from Macbeth. This isn't as bad as Macbeth, but you wouldn't believe the dry-cleaning bills. This is a special outfit, after all. I should wear a surgical gown and gloves, but I can't. Another rule, I'm afraid."

Nakata didn't say a word, though something was beginning to stir in his mind. The room smelled of blood, and strains of "Heigh-Ho" rang in his ears.

Johnnie Walker pulled out the next cat from his bag, a white female, not so young, with the tip of her tail bent a little. As before, he stroked the cat's head for a while, then leisurely traced an invisible line down her stomach. He picked up a scalpel and again made a quick cut to open up the chest. The rest was the same as before. The silent scream, the convulsing body, guts spilling out. Pulling out the bloody heart, showing it to Nakata, popping it in his mouth, chewing it slowly. The satisfied smile. Wiping the blood away with the back of his hand. All with "Heigh-Ho" as background music.

Nakata sank back in his chair and closed his eyes. He held his head in his hands, the fingertips digging into his temples. Something was definitely rising up within him, a horrible confusion transforming his very being. He was breathing rapidly, and a sharp pain throbbed in his neck. His vision was changing drastically.

"Mr. Nakata," Johnnie Walker said brightly, "don't poop out on me yet. We're just getting to the main event. That was just the opening act, a mere warm-up. Now we're getting to the lineup you know. So open your eyes wide and take a good long look. This is the best part! I hope you'll appreciate how hard I've tried to make this entertaining for you."

Whistling his tune, he took out the next cat. Sunk in his chair, Nakata opened his eyes and looked at the next victim. His mind was a complete blank, and he couldn't even stand up.

"I believe you already know each other," Johnnie Walker said, "but I'll do the honors anyway. Mr. Nakata, this is Mr. Kawamura. Mr. Kawamura, Mr. Nakata." Johnnie Walker tipped his hat in a theatrical gesture, greeting first Nakata, then the paralyzed cat.

"Now that you've said hello, I'm afraid we move right into farewells. Hello, good-bye. Like flowers scattered in a storm, man's life is one long farewell, as they say." He gave Kawamura's soft stomach a gentle caress. "Now's the time to stop me if you're going to, Mr. Nakata. Time's ticking away, and I won't hesitate. In the dictionary of the infamous cat-killer Johnnie Walker, hesitate is one word you won't find."