The Name of the Game Is a Kidnapping

by Keigo Higashino

  It was odd, come to think of it. No reason existed for the kidnappers to grant the victim’s family’s request. The kidnapper only needed to keep making demands. If the deal were canceled, the victim’s side had everything to lose. Hence, even in this case, I could just ignore the request. You can confirm the hostage’s safety by paying the money because she will be returned unharmed—I could even tell them that. I thought about sending an email using those exact words. The “Julie” who wrote to the bulletin board came with an email address. Undoubtedly it was because they thought our side might email them.

  “We can’t call them, can we?” Juri said.

  “That’d probably be fatal.”

  “Right.”

  “Do you want to call?”

  She shook her head, “That’s not it.”

  “Nowadays, I don’t think even a complete idiot of a criminal would. Well, that’s what I think, but actually doing something that idiotic might be fun.”

  “Fun…”

  “Because this is a game. If it’s not fun, it’s not worth it. But simply making a call would be reckless.”

  If I were going to, I wanted it to aid us. What I wanted was to mess with the investigation. How might I do that?

  “Um,” Juri’s lips moved slightly as I tried to puzzle it out.

  “What?”

  “I remembered because of the phone, but I may have done something terrible.”

  She sounded uncharac​teristically apprehensive and timid. It gave me a bad feeling. I watched her, aware that my own gaze was sharpening.

  “Yesterday, you asked me, right? After I ran away from home, whether I talked to anyone over the phone.”

  “Yeah. Hey, don’t tell me you did.” I couldn’t help lifting myself from the sofa.

  “I didn’t talk. But I did make a call.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I have a friend named Yuki. Anyway, I thought I might be able to stay at her place and called her. Don’t stare at me with that face. At the time, I didn’t think that something like this would happen.”

  “All right. Keep going.” My head was beginning to hurt. Young women were always like this.

  “But she wasn’t home. Then I remembered. Yuki was going to America starting this month. So no one came to the phone, and the answering machine message came on.”

  “You didn’t speak into that answering machine, did you?”

  Juri turned her face down with a pout at my question. I clutched my head.

  “What did you say?”

  “This is Juri, but I called forgetting you were in America.”

  “And then?”

  “That’s it. I hung up immediately.”

  I sat back down on the sofa. I frowned and stretched hard. “Why now…”

  “We didn’t talk. And until now I’d completely forgotten it.”

  “Listen, the time and date you leave a message gets recorded. When that Yuki girl gets home from America, it’s a matter of time before she finds out about the kidnapping. She might look into it in detail—since it was her friend who was kidnapped. And when she hears that message on top of that? Wouldn’t she wonder why you could make such a call when you were kidnapped?”

  “I think it’ll be okay. She’s fairly easygoing, so I don’t think she’d notice the time discrepancy.”

  I rocked my head back and forth even as she spoke. “I want to play this game perfectly. You think it’s okay—do you think I can go on with nothing but vague words like that to support me?”

  “Then what should we do?” Juri asked angrily.

  I massaged my eyes from over my eyelids with my index finger and thumb. I was starting to feel a bit nauseous, too. “What else? We abort. This is as far as the game goes.”

  “But—”

  “There’s nothing we can do. If, by some chance, Yuki notices the time discrepancy and tells someone, what do you think will happen? The helpful someone she talks to might tell the police. The police would suspect that the kidnapping had been faked and demand an explanation from you. If that happens, that’s it.”

  “I won’t ever talk. I won’t talk even if I die,” Juri declared. Then she pressed her lips into a straight line as though to convey her resolution.

  “Being interrogated by the police is no walk in the park. Well, it’s not like I would know, but a little missy’s stubbornness would be a joke to them.”

  Perhaps objecting to the “little missy” bit, Juri made a sour face. But I was in no state to mind her mood, either. I drained my beer dry and crumpled the empty can.

  If we were aborting, then the sooner I sent her home, the better. But I couldn’t just return Juri. We’d sent the ransom letter. The police had to be on the case already. My only resort would be the story that she’d talked me into playing along with her. The question was how to get her to consent to the prank narrative.

  “Hey, I have a proposal,” the girl offered.

  “Before I listen to yours, I have a proposal myself.”

  “If it’s a proposal to quit, then I won’t listen.”

  I looked up at the ceiling and, like an actor in a movie, put my hands up as if surrendering.

  “I was thinking of going there to erase it,” Juri said, ignoring my gesture.

  “Erase it? Erase what?”

  “The answering machine message. If I erase that, then there’s no problem, right?”

  “How will you erase it? It’s someone else’s phone.”

  “She told me I could go to her room whenever I like while she’s in America. She told me where she hides her key, too.”

  “Where does she live?”

  “Yokosuka.”

  “Yokosuka? Why does it have to be so far away…”

  “It’s just a little over an hour if you go by car. We can just go there really quick and get home really fast.”

  “You make it sound easy. If a shady couple entered an absent resident’s room, the superintendent and neighbors would definitely wonder what’s going on.”

  “We won’t be so clumsy as to be noticed. But it’s better if you don’t come. Because it’s a women-only condo. You could just chill at Yokosuka harbor and gaze at the passing ships.”

  “Ridiculous.” I snorted, and then remembered the time I’d visited Yokosuka.

  Unexpectedly, an idea came to me.

  8

  Living in the metropolis, you don’t really need a car. I rarely drove mine even on dates. I didn’t care to abstain from drinking during the meal or for traffic jam-laced drives. What’s more, my car was an MR-S. You needed to fold up the top and feel the breeze for it to shine.

  In order to make a stealth round trip to Yokosuka, we couldn’t take a taxi. I had Juri get in the passenger seat and left the condo’s parking lot. Naturally, I left the hood up. Although the air was pretty clean outside of Tokyo, I had no intention of opening the hood this evening.

  “Do you like these cars?” Juri asked right after we started driving.

  “What do you mean?”

  “A two-person sports car.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “It’s not that it’s bad.”

  “It’s because I have no need for three or more people to ride in it. I’m not interested in driving with men at all, and one woman at a time suits me fine.”

  “Where do you put your stuff?”

  “There’s enough room in the space behind your seat to put a Kelly bag.”

  “But sometimes you need to move a lot of stuff, don’t you?”

  “I bought this car because I wanted a mobile space. I didn’t want a truck.”

  Juri didn’t say anything to that. She may have shrugged her shoulders, but I wasn’t looking at her.

  “Can I listen to a CD?” she asked.

  “If you like.”

  Just as I thought, she was narrow-minded about the music that played. “What is this? I’ve never heard it.”

  “A jazz pianist performing a Bach arrangement.”

  �
��Huh.” She clearly seemed dissatisfied but didn’t try to turn off the stereo.

  The MR-S had no clutch. I grasped the gleaming silver lever, changed gears, and accelerated.

  Just as Juri had said, about an hour after going on the Metropolitan Expressway from Hakozaki, we were getting off the Yokohama-Yokosuka Road. Past the Yokosuka Interchange, we continued onto the Honcho Yamanaka Road. A few minutes later, we were in front of Shioiri station.

  “Go into that restaurant’s parking lot.”

  Following Juri’s directions, I parked the MR-S.

  “Wait here. I’ll go over there alone.”

  “Is it close?”

  “It might be a short walk. But getting too close to the condo in such a flashy car is dangerous.”

  It was exactly as she said. I saw her off, giving her my cellphone number and telling her to call me if something happened. She crossed the wide highway and disappeared down a narrow side street.

  Drinking some terrible coffee at the restaurant, I thought about how to proceed. Juri leaving a message with her friend had been a miscalculation. However, as long as we could safely erase it, there would be no problems in continuing the plan.

  The biggest challenge was how to collect the cash. Three hundred million yen would be pretty bulky and heavy. In order to move it, we’d naturally need a car. But it was easy to track down a car. In the first place, going on the run with the cash was just too primitive.

  If I had them change the three hundred million yen into something else with that value, I could turn it into money after getting it. For instance, I had the option of having them prepare three hundred million yen in diamonds. That way, moving it would be easy. It would be bad if someone became suspicious when I redeemed them, so I would probably need to limit each one to being worth less than one million yen. With each diamond at one million yen, that would be three hundred of them—

  I shook my head. One or two, I could probably exchange, but three hundred was impossible. I could sell two at a time at different shops, but I would still have to visit a hundred fifty. Shops like that networked, so rumors of a suspicious man selling diamonds of unknown origin would probably spread quickly. I could see the detectives waiting to ambush me as I went to the fifth store.

  I’d use a bank transfer then. Of course, for that I would need an account with a fictitious name, but preparing one wasn’t hard. The internet is full of vendors dealing with those kinds of accounts. However, the problem was how to withdraw the money. I couldn’t go to a teller, so I’d have to use an ATM. The amount I could withdraw in one day would be limited, so it would take days to extract three hundred million yen even if I made multiple accounts. The police would naturally request cooperation from banks and monitor the designated account. After using my card over a dozen times, I might get caught in the net they set. Leaving evidence on the security cameras was another worry.

  It was around when I had thought up to that point. Near the register, a phone rang. A young waiter wearing a uniform picked up.

  He looked surprised for some reason and went outside still holding the cordless receiver. After some time, he came back and quickly disappeared behind the counter.

  Eventually, a fat man who looked to be the store’s manager came out with the waiter from earlier and ran outside together. When they returned, they both looked bewildered.

  After consulting with each other about something, they approached the customers’ tables separately. They were talking to each group of guests. In time, the young waiter came to me, too.

  “Excuse me,” he opened his mouth timidly.

  “What is it?”

  “Did you come here by car today?”

  “I did, actually.”

  “What kind of car was it?”

  “Well, it’s an MR-S.”

  “Em-ar…” It seemed he didn’t know.

  “It’s a navy sports car. It has a convertible hood.”

  The waiter’s expression changed. “Um…with the Shinagawa number?”

  “That’s it.” I had a bad feeling. I was on the edge of my seat. “Did something happen?”

  “Well, it got sprayed…”

  Before the waiter could finish, I ran outside.

  Beholding my car, I was appalled. One of the headlights had fallen prey to red spray paint. I clucked my tongue.

  “What idiot did this?”

  While I stood staring at the headlight, which looked like a bloodshot eyeball, the waiter ran up to me holding something. “Um, for the time being, I brought this.”

  It was benzene and a towel. I didn’t even feel like thanking him, but taking them, I put the benzene on the towel and tried to wipe the light. It seemed not much time had passed since it had been sprayed, and the part on the glass came off easily. However, I couldn’t bring myself to scrub the painted coat. Fortunately, the damage on the body was minimal.

  “Um, well.” At some point the fat man who seemed to be the manager had come to stand behind me. “The restaurant is unable to take responsibility for any damages incurred in our parking lot.”

  “I know. I don’t intend to ask for reimbursement or anything.” I handed the towel and benzene to the waiter. “Thank you very much.”

  “Would you like to contact the police?” the waiter asked.

  “No, I don’t feel like making a fuss.” Police presence was the last thing I wanted. “It’s okay. Please go back inside.” I couldn’t help looking around, but there was no way the culprit would be nearby.

  “Nothing like this has happened before,” the fat man said by way of an excuse. I gave no reply.

  I came back into the restaurant, but I didn’t feel like taking my time drinking coffee, so I paid my bill and went outside. I got into the car to wait for Juri, but seeing the paint mark, I felt irritated. It was still the same new MR-S, but my affection for it was already diminished.

  After about ten minutes, Juri came back. She was about to go into the restaurant, so I honked the horn once to get her attention.

  When I told her about the spray paint after she got in, she looked surprised. She bothered to get back out to check on the damage.

  “How terrible. I wonder if it was a motorcycle gang,” she said after sitting next to me again.

  “A gang these days wouldn’t do something so silly. It’s most likely the work of local grade school or middle school kids.”

  “Maybe.”

  “By the way, how did it go with you? Did you pull it off?”

  “Perfectly.” Juri made an okay sign with her fingers. “The key’s hiding place hadn’t changed, so getting inside was easy. And erasing the recording on the answering machine went well, too.”

  “And you weren’t seen by anyone?”

  “Do you think I’d make a mistake like that?”

  “Who knows. Until just now, you’d forgotten the answering machine itself. I’d think that’s a pretty big mistake.”

  “I remembered it and cleaned up after myself.”

  “After coming all the way to Yokosuka.” I turned on the car engine.

  After getting out of the parking lot, instead of immediately heading back, I went in the opposite direction.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Just stay quiet and leave it to me.”

  I’d come to Yokosuka in the past. Relying on those memories, I turned the steering wheel. Remembering a good portion of routes I’d taken before was something I bragged about.

  I left the well-traveled highway and drove on a narrow road heading to the mountains. The houses thinned and the forest loomed closer. Finally, I saw a building illuminated by a green light diagonally in front of me. There was a parking lot sign. I slowed down.

  “Wait, what are you doing?” Her tone was sharp.

  “Just be quiet.”

  “I can’t stay quiet. You never told me I’d have to go into a place like that.”

  I ignored Juri and parked the car on the side of the road. I put on the handbrake and cut the engine.
r />   “Well, let’s go then.”

  “Where?”

  “Where do you think? Into that stylish building.”

  But Juri didn’t even take off her seatbelt. She sat stiffly, facing forward, and her expression was like stone.

  “You’re being weird,” I said, guffawing. “You’ve been staying with me at my place all this time. You’re fine with that, but you have reservations about going into a love hotel with me?”

  “But this place…”

  “It’s meant for a specific purpose?”

  Juri didn’t answer. I laughed again.

  “Don’t get the wrong idea. We have a lot of work to do. We need a private room.”

  “What work?”

  “As part of our game, I mean. You thought we came all the way here just to erase a message on an answering machine?”

  Relief and comprehension softened her expression. Even so, she drew her chin in distrustfully. “Then why aren’t you putting the car in the parking lot?”

  “Hotels like this have security cameras in the parking space that can even make out plate numbers. Considering what we’re about to do, we can’t leave a record of my car.”

  “Hmm.” With an ambiguous nod, she looked at me. “You know these places well.”

  “I’ve done consulting for hotels like this in the past.”

  The two of us walked side by side and entered the hotel, mindful of the cameras. The room we secured had a brusque monotone interior. The first thing I did was to open the window. I’d come to the mountains, but the sea looked surprisingly close by. Occasionally, I could hear a ship whistling.

  “What are you going to do here?”

  “You’ll understand soon. For now, could you wait over on that stylish sofa?”

  But Juri didn’t sit on the sofa; she took a seat on the sheeted bed. With great interest, she looked around the room, possibly because it was her first time at such a place or because it was so different from similar rooms she’d been in—I couldn’t say.

  I sat on the sofa and took out my notebook. With a ballpoint pen, I started writing.

  “What are you writing?”

  “Just wait a little.”

  After she bounced on the bed to get a feel for it, she used the remote on top of the table to turn on the TV. After several channels, an adult video showed up on the screen. A male actor was parting a young, naked woman’s thighs and practicing some sort of mischief. Of course, the scene was censored with pixelated blurs and the crucial part wasn’t visible.