Six Four

by Hideo Yokoyama

  He hadn’t meant to test Suwa. The situation had convinced him that help was needed. How would Futawatari have dealt with it? What would he have done to get through? Mochizuki’s missed call had triggered the questions, but his thoughts in the lift had been different. Someone to rescue Suwa and Ochiai. Futawatari’s name had been the first to come to mind.

  He slapped himself on the cheeks. He’d jumped after seeing the numbers on the car’s digital clock: 10.25. His watch read the same. It felt as if time had jumped forwards. I’ve been passing out each time I blink. The fear rose inside him. He leaned into the steering column and scanned the command vehicle.

  Nothing out of the ordinary. It was parked in the same place. Everything was normal. Mikami let out a breath and had just begun to settle back into his seat when . . .

  Matsuoka.

  A row of three four-door sedans pulled on to the road in front of the driving school. Mikami caught a glimpse of Matsuoka from the side. He was in the back of the first vehicle. The cars continued until they were in the shadow of the command vehicle; there was the screech of brakes.

  Mikami was already out of his car, running towards them. Alerted by the sound, one of the detectives getting out of the third vehicle turned around. Aizawa. He brushed a hand towards the hem of his jacket, not recognizing who it was. For a split second, the holster carrying his gun came into view. Was he going to draw? Mikami held up his hands but refrained from coming to a full stop. Seeing it was Mikami, his old boss from Special Investigations, Aizawa called to the next detective emerging from the vehicle, his expression still tense. Looks like we’ve got a complication . . .

  Still keeping his distance, Mikami circled around towards the front of the command vehicle. He could feel the glaring eyes before the others came into view. Seven, eight, nine . . . Nine detectives stood encircling Matsuoka, each with a concealed weapon around their hip or chest. Each was a big name. Among them were Ogata from Violent Crime Section One and Minegishi from Special Investigations. They were Matsuoka’s best, with a long service of leadership – men in line to take charge of Criminal Investigations for the next generation. They stood there, intimidating, as they tried to gauge Mikami’s purpose, but they were also the only ones to remember decorum and offer a silent nod of their heads.

  Once again, Matsuoka showed no sign of surprise. Mikami felt a wave of nostalgia, as though they’d been reunited after a long trip, despite the fact that they had met only a day earlier, in the toilets of Station G. Matsuoka’s eyes were not those of a heretic. There was no need for further scrutiny: they were the eyes of a man working on a case. They seemed compressed, half closed in concentration. When the time came, Mikami knew they would snap open, lifting, together with his thick eyebrows, to form the mask of a Kongorikishi, the muscular guardians that manned temple gates.

  ‘What, you’re stalking me now, Mikami?’

  No doubt a calculated move, Matsuoka’s casual remark immediately eased the tension among the detectives, bringing their guard down a notch. It had no effect on Mikami. He remained tightly wound.

  ‘Let me come with you. In my role as press director.’

  The nine detectives reacted simultaneously, looking astonished. With the cream of Criminal Investigations present, Mikami hadn’t said anything that might sound as if he was bargaining for sympathy. There was the future to consider. He didn’t care what they thought of him as an individual, but he couldn’t undersell his office by kowtowing before these men, who were all detectives to their core. And he didn’t have the time. Neither would Matsuoka. The commander would need to get inside and mobilize. It was all or nothing.

  Matsuoka opened his mouth and spoke.

  ‘I owe you my thanks. Nanao got in touch this morning to let me know.’

  What?

  ‘You didn’t know? About Minako. She came in.’

  ‘Right . . .’

  She’d decided to do it.

  ‘Yeah, sure. Get in.’

  What?

  ‘If you lose control of the press, we lose control of the front line. I want you to feed them until they fall asleep.’

  The other detectives looked aghast, but it was Mikami who was truly lost for words. His follow-up proposal had already been on the tip of his tongue. If not the command vehicle, at least a pursuit or an intercept car.

  ‘But, sir . . .’

  Ogata had started to complain, but he held his tongue. Anyone who’d ever worked for Matsuoka would know why. It wasn’t his rank as an officer or his title – whether as Chief Adviser or as First Division Chief – that had given Ogata pause. It was, instead, his trust in and reverence for Matsuoka’s wishes that had prevented him from blurting out a poorly considered, emotive response. He would also know that the decision was no longer one he could reverse, not now Matsuoka had said it.

  ‘Here’s the condition. You wait at least twenty minutes before relaying anything you hear inside. We need to maintain a time lag between the investigation and the press,’ Matsuoka said.

  He hadn’t given Mikami a condition. He’d given him permission to relay information directly, from the command vehicle to the conference room. Twenty minutes was well within the boundary of any administrative delay. During kidnappings in the past, there were many cases where the press had had to wait thirty minutes, even an hour, before they were brought up to speed.

  ‘Yes, sir. That won’t be a problem.’

  ‘You concentrate on your job; we’ll take care of ours.’

  Make sure not to interfere with the investigation. He’d picked up on Mikami’s rising adrenalin. But while it was true that the anticipation was building, Mikami’s mind was not focused on the hunt. The detective was stirring. Matsuoka had doubtless interpreted it that way.

  The steel bars rang out as the doors to the back of the vehicle’s container came unlocked; they swung open. The smell of his hands after pull-ups on the bar. His nose registered the memory. Dully glowing orange ceiling lights. The area was cramped compared to how it had appeared from the outside, reminding Mikami of a submarine walkway he’d once seen in a film. Desks covered with screens and apparatus lined both sides. Seven stools were bolted to the floor in a zigzag pattern. Two men were already sitting inside, both wearing headphones. One was sitting before a phone attached to the desk; he was hairy, round, burly. The other was thin, pencil-faced, with a centre parting, and looked nothing like a detective. He was sitting in front of two computers, suggesting his role was something like Koichiro Hiyoshi’s during the Six Four investigation.

  The only people to get in were Matsuoka and the two team leaders, Ogata and Minegishi. Mikami, too, having secured his place. That made six but, despite there being seven stools, there was no room to move around. Elbows and knees knocked together as they took their seats.

  ‘Closing up.’

  Ogata pulled the handles on both doors, which were designed to be closed from the inside. They came together with a metallic thud. Both the view and any remaining light were shut out, compressing the air inside. Mikami immediately tensed, feeling his chest constrict. They had air-conditioning but no windows. The view from each side of the vehicle – front, back, left and right – was projected on to four different monitors sunk into the walls.

  Minegishi picked up a radio microphone.

  ‘Special Investigations, this is Mobile Command.’

  ‘This is Special Investigations. Go ahead.’

  ‘Confirm reception. Over.’

  ‘Good: five bars. All tests okay. Over.’

  ‘Copy. Commander and five more on board. Over.’

  ‘Copy.’

  ‘Mobile Command, over and out.’

  The screens to the left were showing a rush of activity: a succession of car doors closing. The detectives outside were getting back into their cars. Intercept 6. Intercept 7. Intercept 8. Minegishi tested each of their radio responses. They were all part of the Intercept Unit; their role would be to conceal themselves in areas where there was a high likelihood of the
kidnapper showing up, and move in if necessary. If the profiling was based around this being a copycat crime, the cars would have to be positioned near or at the areas designated by the kidnapper fourteen years earlier. They would be points, coming together to form a line. Also . . . right . . . around the area of yesterday’s calls. Mikami took out his notebook, having come up with his first question. He was close enough for Matsuoka to feel his breath.

  ‘Sir, do you know whereabouts in Genbu yesterday’s calls were made?’

  ‘The first was Tokiwamachi. The second was the area between Sumamachi and Nagimachi.’

  ‘Can you give a general description of the areas?’

  ‘They’re west and east of Genbu’s main station. Tokiwamachi is to the west; it’s a downtown area based around an arcade-type shopping street. Bars, cinemas, that sort of thing. Sumamachi and Nagimachi are to the east, both red-light districts. Hostess bars, sex shops, love hotels, game centres. They’ve got it all.’

  Matsuoka’s answer was unguarded, detailed enough to dispel any suspicion that he was holding back. Mikami checked his watch: 10.38. He read through the notes he’d taken. Tokiwamachi. Sumamachi. Nagimachi. The calls, both made from near the station. Details. Exactly what he’d been waiting for. When he called it in, Ochiai would be euphoric. Suwa, the others, too – they would be able to stand tall before the other reporters. The embargo would hold until 10.58. Mikami stared at the second hand of the wall clock, willing time on. Twenty minutes felt different in a place like this. Like sitting on a bed of nails, it felt like a day, an eternity.

  He could get more. If he didn’t wait, he could report it all in one go at 10.58.

  ‘The money – have they got the ransom of 20 million?’

  He became aware of cold looks from Ogata and Minegishi.

  ‘That’s all done. We’ve taken the serial numbers and the notes have been marked.’

  ‘Has the kidnapper been back in touch?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And investigators – have you deployed people to the nine businesses from the Six Four investigation?’

  ‘Naturally.’

  And Minako? The thought came to him, but it wasn’t the time to ask.

  ‘And upstream, the Futago river?’

  ‘Yes. We have officers near the Kotohira bridge, and the Ikkyu fishing lodge.’

  That was as far as he got. The vehicle shuddered as the engine came to life.

  ‘First we go to the house,’ Matsuoka said.

  Minegishi nodded in response. He got into a half-crouch and slid open a panel connecting the hold to the driver’s side. Take us out. Vicinity of Mesaki’s home.

  The vehicle moved slowly forwards.

  ‘This is Mobile Command, moving out.’ Ogata used the radio to relay the information to the Investigative HQ.

  ‘Copy.’

  The speakers were silent again. Case information only. Nothing else was permitted.

  They pulled out on to a main road. The four wall monitors projected the view on each side. Mikami knew the vehicle received yearly upgrades, that the computers and monitor system – which now enabled high-resolution recording and playback – had been added over time, and that the sensitivity of the directional microphones had also seen huge improvements. Using switches at the rear, they were able to cover the full 360-degree radius. Lying among the apparatus were nine mobile phones, all on a small, rimmed desk so they wouldn’t fall. Each phone had a label: S. Investigations, Station G, Home, Intercept, Pursuit, Outdoors, Locations, S. Ops, Kitou. The numbers had been apportioned so the calls didn’t come into a single phone. Kitou was the chief of Violent Crime, Section Two. He would be hiding in the car with Masato Mesaki and the ransom. Mikami had to wonder why they had included Special Operations. Most likely it was because the majority of work carried out during a kidnapping investigation was of a similar nature to theirs.

  Matsuoka had moved Pencil-face to the side and was dividing his attention between two screens. One was a map of the Genbu city limits, the other a map of City D. They were scattered with blinking green and red lights, perhaps marking vehicles or officers in the field. The vast majority were in City D. The two cities were different in terms of size, but even then the distribution was surprising. Mesaki’s home was in Genbu, and the kidnapper’s calls had originated there, too, making it much more likely – under normal circumstances – to be the focus of an initial response than City D. The pattern suggested an emphasis on the Six Four elements of the case, but it felt like a gamble. Mikami wanted to find out the reason, but Matsuoka looked busy.

  The vehicle shook. Perhaps because of bad suspension, the jolting was severe each time they crossed a bump or join in the road.

  Minegishi was busy talking to the Home Unit on one of the mobiles; they were going through the details of the handover. The kidnapper would have Mesaki’s mobile number from his daughter’s phone. If the plan was to lead Mesaki and the money from point to point, as it had been with Six Four, it was likely he would call directly instead of using the businesses en route. Expecting this, they had attached a wireless microphone to his phone . . .

  ‘Patching call to speakers,’ Burly said to Minegishi. The voice of the man from the Home Unit echoed through the hold.

  ‘Testing. Testing. Testing. Connection with target mobile. Repeat. Connection with target mobile.’

  Loud and clear, Minegishi said, holding the mobile close to his mouth.

  They had fitted a similar device to Mesaki’s home phone. If a call came in, they would be able to monitor it in real time from the command vehicle. It was a different era. They no longer needed anyone on a radio to relay calls, as Mikami had done fourteen years earlier from the passenger seat of Pursuit 1.

  He felt no regret. Just as he felt no need to compete with the present. Surrounded by real detectives, he’d have been lying to say he wasn’t interested in their actions, their skills – but he still didn’t feel like he was part of the hunt. His battle was with time. There were six minutes until the embargo lifted . . .

  ‘Sir, we’re almost there,’ Ogata said. He was pointing at the corner of one of the monitors. His finger traversed away from the front monitor towards the one on the right. A normal-looking detached house on two floors, mortar and wood, behind a smallish area for children to play in. The Mesaki family home.

  ‘Okay, good,’ Matsuoka said, studying the image. ‘All we need to do is keep the house’s relative position in mind. Take us on to the prefectural highway, towards City D.’

  Ogata nodded, this time using a radio to relay the instructions to the driver.

  The command vehicle was going to City D? Was the lead commander, the head of the army, really planning to leave Genbu? Genbu was where Mesaki’s home was. It was also where the kidnapper’s calls had originated – from the east and west sides of the main station. The east stood out, with its hostess bars, sex shops, love hotels, gaming centres. Wasn’t that exactly the kind of place a kidnapper might use as a base of operations?

  Something about that thought snagged. Of course. Lowlifes weren’t the only kind of people who liked to hang out in the red-light districts. Out-of-control teenagers did, too, whatever their gender. What had happened to the idea of a hoax? Mikami’s unexpected ticket into the investigation’s central hub had, combined with the fact that no one had mentioned the possibility since, caused it to slip his mind completely.

  But . . .

  Mikami checked the clock. Two and a half minutes left. Matsuoka had leaned back from the screens and was watching the front monitor with a look that suggested the hunt was about to begin.

  ‘Sir.’

  ‘Uh-huh. What is it?’

  ‘Have you begun the search for Kasumi Mesaki?’

  Matsuoka looked unhappy with the question, which took Mikami by surprise. Had he offended him? Right. He’d used Kasumi’s name, even though it was yet to be disclosed.

  ‘Have you dismissed the possibility of this being a hoax?’ Mikami asked, making sure not
to repeat the offence.

  ‘No, definitely not.’

  ‘Are you searching the red-light district?’

  ‘We’re in the middle of a kidnapping; we can’t do anything that might get us seen.’

  Coming from Matsuoka, the answer sounded evasive. One of the hallmarks of modern policing, for Public Security and Criminal Investigations alike, was the ability to deploy large-scale investigations in the shadows.

  ‘Do you know where she tended to go?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Both calls originated in commercial districts, areas where lots of people go to hang out. Assuming this isn’t a hoax, isn’t there a strong possibility she’s still in Genbu?’

  ‘Mikami,’ Ogata said, his eyes warning. Minegishi folded his arms, displeased.

  Mikami nodded, but he couldn’t stop the question.

  ‘Why are we heading for City D?’

  ‘Focus on your job,’ Matsuoka said wearily. He jerked his chin up towards the clock on the wall.

  The second hand was at the top of the dial: 10.58. Mikami was amazed. Was the timing coincidence, or had Matsuoka kept count of the twenty minutes, too?

  ‘Excuse me.’

  Mikami repositioned himself at the rear of the container, stumbling each time the vehicle rocked. Burly’s wide back was in the way. Mikami pulled out his mobile and opened it; he dialled Suwa’s number, crouching forwards to hide some of the background noise.

  The phone rang for a long time. When Suwa finally answered, the wave of sound was like a hammer on Mikami’s eardrums. He was transported immediately back to the conference room. The volume was incredible, enough to make him physically recoil. Suwa was all but inaudible, his voice coming only in short bursts. He was making his way through the crowd, heading for the corridor. The line went dead even as Mikami pictured the image. He redialled straight away, but no one answered. He was left with nothing to do but wait for Suwa to call back once he’d found somewhere he could talk.

  It was five minutes later when the mobile, gripped tight, started to vibrate.

  ‘Sorry about that. I had to deal with something.’