At 7 a.m., a photograph of the victim and a large sketch of the layout of his home were posted on the blackboard at the front of the main conference room. The members who had managed to assemble there after being called in during the early morning hours included the first and second units of the First SIT as well as the fourth unit of the Second SIT from MPD’s First Investigation Division. It was an impressive gathering of thirty-five SIT officers, not counting those stationed at the victim’s home and in the communications vehicles. Among them were also undercover investigators who specialized in apprehending perps.
Since this matter involved a major corporation like Hinode Beer, the arrival of a few members from MPD’s Second Investigation Division was to be expected, but Goda was a little surprised to see all ten members of the third unit from Fourth White Collar Crime specializing in corruption and bribery. All eight members of the first unit of Special Violence and Organized Crime Investigation specializing in commercial law violations and extortion had come from the Fourth Investigation Division. In addition, ten members from the ninth unit of Third Violent Crime Investigation from the First Investigation Division were in attendance. Since there were few faces he recognized, Goda resorted to giving them a quick bow. Then, there were another seventeen members from among the eight sub-units of the First Mobile CI Unit as well as the leader of the unit headquarters. From the precinct, there were ten detectives from CID, including Goda, and the assistant police inspector and sergeant from the Crime Prevention Division, and six members combined from the on-scene forensics team and the precinct’s crime scene team from CID. All told, Investigation Headquarters headcount totaled ninety-nine officers.
The seats at the front were helmed by Hidetsugu Kanzaki, chief inspector of First Investigation, along with other top brass, including the chief inspector of the Crime Scene Division; the respective directors of First and Second SIT, Third Violent Crime, Fourth White Collar Crime, and Special Violence and Organized Crime; the deputy leader of First Mobile CI and Superintendent Tobita from Omori Police Department; while off to the side sat inspectors from various units and the leader of the unit headquarters, with Omori’s very own Chief Inspector Hakamada of CID hunkered down on the far end.
“Attention!” On command, everyone rose to their feet, standing straight and still. This morning, as he strode into the room, Kanzaki had worn his usual detached expression, neither confirming nor denying that he was an absolute authority who inspired awe from every detective within the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. His stature and facial features, all of them average, were indistinguishable from that of any middle-aged salaryman swaying on the commuter train, but as soon as his short greeting—“Thank you all for coming so early”—issued from his mouth, it was as if a stick ruler had been thrust into the back of each investigator in attendance. Their fingers extended tautly along the seams of their slacks, and a tremor rippled through the entire conference room.
Back when he was at MPD, Goda knew Kanzaki as chief inspector of the Crime Scene Division, but even back then he was known as “walking efficiency.” From his greeting and demeanor to his interpersonal relationships and the way he commanded investigations, everything he did seemed to run with accuracy, speed, and clarity. This spring, when he was promoted to first investigation chief inspector, he made the following remarks in Frontline, the internal newsletter for detectives: “When we consider the anxiety of citizens and the distress of victims exposed to increasingly heinous crimes, as well as the duty that detectives and police officers must fulfill, all logic, compromises, and excuses arising from the internal organization of criminal investigation become utterly superfluous.”
As Goda had read these remarks, he had pondered just what the resolve of the police force was, but when all was said and done, no doubt Kanzaki’s own resolve was buttressed by a byzantine, quake-proof resilience that was essential to ascending the ranks of a bureaucratic organization. Lost in such thoughts, Goda never managed to fully extend his fingers, pressed against the casual khaki pants he had been wearing since last night.
Kanzaki opened his notebook as soon as he took the seat directly before the blackboard, and fixed his immobile gaze on the investigators.
“Regarding the incident that occurred last night on the twenty-fourth at approximately 10:05 p.m., in which the president of Hinode Beer, Kyosuke Shiroyama, age fifty-eight, was taken from the front yard of his home in Sanno Ni-chome: irrespective of the perpetrators’ motive, I would like all of you to consider this an extremely serious crime that poses a definitive threat to the well-being of our country’s citizenry and economic activities.” Kanzaki’s briefing began with this introduction. He had a tendency to speak softly, and even with the microphone his voice was nothing more than a murmur—nonetheless, every word was trenchant and sharp.
“Other than a note stating, ‘We have your president,’ which was left behind at the scene of the abduction, at this point the perpetrators have not made any contact whatsoever. Therefore, as of now we have no choice but to treat this as a case of abduction and unlawful confinement, whereas in time we will either receive a specific demand from the criminals, or we will hear nothing at all. In addition to preparing to the best of our abilities for both outcomes, we must dedicate ourselves to the immediate task of narrowing down suspects and criminal objectives. Furthermore, judging from the meticulous and premeditated strategy of leaving behind a single note and then breaking off all communication, and the abduction’s close resemblance to the work of a professional crime group, this incident bears the hallmarks of both a violent crime and what could develop into a white collar crime, so we must avoid any assumptions or prejudgments during the course of our investigation. As for the direction of the investigation, for the time being, as we work toward a swift rescue of the victim, we will focus first on deducing the suspects. In addition to canvassing on foot, tracing their movements through legwork, identifying vehicles used in the crime, and establishing any connections to the perpetrators, the cross section of the victim’s personal network will commence with a request to provide all necessary materials regarding Hinode Beer, and inquiring of those involved about every detail of the situation, so that we can quickly gather precise information to conduct our analysis. Lastly, because this is a situation in which we have reason to fear for the safety and welfare of the victim, all information related to the incident will be kept strictly confidential. Therefore all communications and reports will be made via a communications specialist in charge. That will be all from me.”
Kanzaki seemed to be taking a particularly cautious stance concerning the incident. Looking at it another way, this could also mean that he did not have a specific trajectory for the investigation at this point in time, but as long as Second Investigation and Special Violence and Organized Crime had shown up at such an early stage, it was clear that the concerns of the top brass—guided by causes inscrutable to those on the fringes, like Goda—must veer toward Hinode’s conflicts with extortionists.
Then, using the sketch posted on the blackboard, the director of First SIT gave a detailed explanation starting with the onset of the incident. It did not cover anything more than what Goda, as the first detective to arrive upon the scene, had seen. The director continued reading from his notebook: “At this time, we have established two lines of communication: the victim assistance hotline, and another exclusively for any threats or demands coming in from the perpetrators. Two SIT members, including policewomen, are on duty at the victim’s home, working in three shifts, and there are another two officers at the relay point . . .”
As he listened, Goda stared at the communications equipment set up on the table near the blackboard. Once again, he remembered the police dispatch record tucked into his shirt pocket.
How did the perpetrators manage to carry out the abduction while evading the cops, who could have appeared at any time? The full shape of this idea—which had originally snagged his thought process at t
he crime scene and whose contours had still not come into full relief—flashed through his mind for the first time.
The radio, he thought.
However, this amounted to no more than a fleeting hunch, so transitory that Goda could not fully grasp it. He continued to stare at the table where the DG transmitter for the system for Investigation’s first unit sat, next to another transmitter for the Victim Assistance Unit and three types of inter-unit radios, and the thought evaporated again.
The briefing had moved on to the chief inspector of Crime Scene Division. In the vicinity of the shrubs along the path leading to the victim’s home and inside the exterior wall, they had collected a total of ten incomplete impressions of canvas shoes. Four left footprints, six right, two different pairs. Both measured twenty-six centimeters. The patterns of the rubber soles, while indistinct, could apparently both be verified. By some time today they would be able to determine the manufacturer of the shoes, identifying the brand name, stock number, and even the period of production, but they would still have to identify two pairs from among the millions of shoes distributed to tens of thousands of retailers across the country. A fiber fragment collected from the Japanese andesine stone of the wall was white cotton. The glove prints that came from the switch on the electronic lock by the front gate, based on the weave of the fabric, turned out to be from a cotton work glove. Like the canvas shoes, the gloves were manufactured in units of hundreds of thousands.
The note recovered at the crime scene was written on Kokuyo letter paper, and the product ID number was Hi-51. It was from a hundred-page stationery pad with a yellow cover that cost 250 yen and could probably be found in any household in Japan. There were no fingerprints, nor any other traces of microscopic evidence. The ink of the ballpoint pen was still being analyzed.
Next up, the unit headquarters leader from First Mobile CI reported on the results of questioning conducted after they arrived on the scene. In three homes near the victim’s, two people had heard a car engine starting around the time when the crime was committed; another person had heard a sliding car door opening and closing. The leader read aloud the names and addresses of each witness. The person who had heard the sliding door was able to give an accurate time for when he heard the noise—10:07 p.m.—since he had been about to make phone call and happened to look at the clock.
Subsequently, there was a detailed report about a resident of number twenty-one on the cul-de-sac, to the north of the victim’s home, who saw a car parked in the alley from his second-floor window at “around 10 at night.” The eyewitness was a seventy-six-year-old man, and he had gone to close a small window that had been left open in his bathroom on the second floor, which was when he happened to see, over the wall and bushes that were about one meter from his home, the roof of the car parked in the alley. The car’s lights were off, and since he was looking down from above, he could not see if there was anyone inside.
The color of the car was either dark blue or black. Since there were no street lamps in the alley, it was also possibly dark green. The vehicle was either a van or a long-body RV. None of the residents of the four other homes on the cul-de-sac had seen the car. A female office worker who lived next to the sole eyewitness had returned home around 10:15 p.m., but no car had been parked there at that time. Likewise, the eyewitness had not heard the sound of a car starting in the alley.
The man who saw the car lived with his wife, and by nine every night he would turn off all the lights in the house before going to bed. Three of the four homes belonged to elderly residents who never went out at night. The eyewitness’s neighbor was the twenty-eight-year-old office worker who lived with her parents, and though she generally returned by eight every night, yesterday she had happened to work overtime and had come home late. If the van that was seen in the alley were indeed connected to the incident, it meant that the perpetrators had dedicated a significant amount of time to surveying the area beforehand.
Lastly, the director of First SIT read aloud from the deployment chart for all 105 officers, including the SIT members who were not present. There was the first squad of the Victim Assistance Team, stationed at the victim’s home, six SIT members working in three shifts. The second squad from Crime Scene would be in charge of interviewing company employees and would include one group leader and four teams, eight members from SIT, the fourth unit of White Collar Crime from Second Investigation, and Special Violence and Organized Crime from Fourth Investigation. The third squad from Crime Scene would be in charge of questioning Hinode Beer’s branch offices and sales offices, subsidiaries, affiliated companies, and distributors, and would similarly be made up of one group leader and twelve teams, twenty-four members from SIT, the fourth unit of White Collar Crime from Second Investigation, Special Violence and Organized Crime from Fourth Investigation, including the precinct’s own Noriaki Anzai. The fourth Crime Scene squad, in charge of interviewing the victim’s family, relatives, friends, and acquaintances, would be four teams, eight SIT members. The fifth Crime Scene squad, handling matters of extortion, would be five teams, ten members including eight members from Special Violence and Organized Crime from Fourth Investigation, the ninth unit of Violent Crime, and SIT, as well as Takafumi Saito from the precinct’s CID and an inspector from Crime Prevention. Saito and the other inspector had both formerly worked in Fourth Investigation at MPD.
Then, the first squad of the Communications and Relay Team would be assigned to the victim’s home, while the second squad would be assigned to the 103—each included six SIT members working in three shifts. The Search and Inquiry Squad would consist of one group leader and five teams, ten members total that included three members of the Mobile CI Unit along with five members of the ninth unit of Violent Crime and two officers from the precinct. The Evidence and Vehicle Investigation Squad would be made up of fourteen members of the Mobile CI Unit and seven officers from the precinct, including Osanai and Goda. The head of the ninth unit of Violent Crime would be squad leader. Since no evidence had yet surfaced, they would all commence with vehicle searches.
When his name was called, Goda felt a little shudder, but he consoled himself with the fact that he would be working with inanimate objects. He automatically thought, First stolen vehicles, then rental cars, then reminded himself, Patience, patience, patience, emptying his mind of all distractions. The director of First SIT had designated the Communications and Report Commanders, and Director Miyoshi of Third Violent Crime Investigation had been named as the contact person for the Evidence and Vehicle Investigation Squad. Goda had met him some five years ago, back when Miyoshi was chief of CID at Shinagawa Police Department, during a murder investigation in which an old man who liked to wander had been struck in the head with a golf club and killed. Even though both he and Dohi were self-made men who had climbed the ranks, Miyoshi gave a different impression, that of a man who took pride in being a cop, to the marrow of his bones.
Thus the first investigation meeting ended at 7:30 in the morning, and each squad broke off for their own short meetings. The majority of SIT dispersed immediately, followed quickly by the Search and Inquiry Squad and then the Crime Scene Squad, which was interviewing company employees, but the remaining three squads were faced with armfuls of documents to review, and the directors of both fourth unit of White Collar Crime from Second Investigation Division and Special Violence and Organized Crime from Fourth Investigation Division continued to give out instructions in a low voice.
Goda and his cohort gathered in a corner, away from them.
“First, we’ll go down the list of stolen vehicles and rental cars,” Abe, the head of the ninth unit of Violent Crime, said tersely to Director Miyoshi.
“That’s fine.” Miyoshi nodded, and their meeting was over within five seconds.
As they waited for a fax of the list of stolen vans and RVs from the Criminal Information Management System, they divided up the string of tasks: calling the dealerships of car re
ntal companies, requesting yesterday’s rental records from each office, addressing formal documents of inquiry related to the investigation to each dealership under the name of the superintendent of Omori Police Department, administering the superintendent’s seal, and faxing them out. Since they didn’t know the type of car or the license number of the vehicle connected to the crime, they had no choice but to eliminate, one by one, each and every stolen vehicle or car rented in the city, with only the color and the shape seen by a seventy-six-year-old man as clues. If this led nowhere, next they’d have to cast their net wider to neighboring prefectures, to the entire Kantō region, and then to the whole country. And if they still came up empty-handed, they’d have to go to every parking lot in the city on foot, and if that failed, they’d have to check each of the hundreds of thousands or even millions of vans registered at the District Land Transport Bureau.
The time was now 7:40 a.m. The radio connected to the victim’s home and the staging points remained silent; Chief Inspector Kanzaki and the other directors looked like nothing more than figureheads on a tiered doll stand; and outside the window above Goda’s head as he continued to write out his documents, the light snow was starting to accumulate.
根来史彰 Fumiaki Negoro
The MPD’s fifth press conference at 8 a.m. stuck to the same script: “No contact from the perpetrators. Situation remains unchanged.”
At the same time, over on Toho News’s Metro section, the slot editor for the evening edition, who was named Murai, had just taken his regular seat and shouted out, “Better get moving.” The evening edition for Saturday, March 25, had to be put together as usual, provided no sudden developments such as the rescue of the president of Hinode Beer occurred before the final deadline at 1:30 p.m. Murai had already been in the office by three in the morning after receiving a report of the incident, but once he had skimmed through early editions of the other morning newspapers to confirm that they had not missed any scoops, he had managed to fall asleep on the sofa despite the utter chaos swirling around him. He woke up before eight, in time to hear the outcome of the MPD’s press conference and, agreeing with his colleagues that there was, in fact, “Nothing we can do,” he planted himself in front of his desktop computer and cracked open the notebook with takeover instructions from the slot editor before him. Next to him, the rim editor on duty echoed the words, “Nothing we can do,” and took his own seat.
Lady Joker, Volume 1 Page 35
