Authors: Hideo Yokoyama
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.’
Mikami didn’t know what to say. Suwa had no doubt moved, but the background commotion could have been the worst he’d heard – if not for their last call.
‘Anything wrong?’
He said the words then realized the phrase was Minako’s. She had probably felt like he did now for a long time. The irritation that came from wanting to help, to take someone’s place but be unable to do so. With no other way out, the emotion had become a stock question.
Suwa reported that Ochiai was still holding out.
The rest in Medical helped, I think; he’s surprisingly resilient.
There was admiration in Suwa’s voice as he spoke. At the same time, he said the situation was getting worse. The press had lost control when Matsuoka had failed to turn up at the eight o’clock announcement. They had taken the issue to the NPA, demanded that the Criminal Investigations Bureau send an executive in. Tokyo had refused outright. They’d taken the same position they had with
the commissioner. There was no reason to expose themselves to the risk of another Dallas. Besides, they had no justification. Apart from its treatment of the press, Criminal Investigations had shown no deficiencies in its response to the kidnapping.
‘. . . that really pushed them over the edge. They didn’t like being snubbed like that. They’ve pushed Ochiai into fifty trips now, and the Investigative HQ still refuses to give him anything to help.’
Having listened to this point, Mikami opened his notebook. ‘Listen. I’m inside the Mobile Command Centre. I can relay information to you as it comes in. Here’s some for now. Take this down.’
Mikami relayed everything Matsuoka had given him. It was evident from Suwa’s acknowledgements that he was already brightening. He was regaining his voice after a night of being beaten into submission. Mikami wanted to hear Kuramae and Mikumo’s voices. He asked how they were.
‘They’re okay. Tougher than me, that’s for sure,’ Suwa said. ‘There’s no need to worry, we’re getting used to things here,’ he added, his voice rising an octave.
They both paused.
No one gets used to something like that.
Mikami looked at his scribbled-down notes. The information he’d given him wouldn’t last long. He had to feed the press more, feed them until they were full, keep the information flowing until they couldn’t take any more. It was the only way to put an end to the hell of the conference room.
‘Suwa, listen . . .’
Take turns to get some sleep. Even if it’s just fifteen minutes, half an hour.
Mikami was just getting ready to speak when he was interrupted.
‘Incoming call. Mesaki’s home phone.’
The voice had come from inside the hold. Mikami couldn’t process what was happening.
‘Patching it through, standby.’
One of Burly’s hairy hands reached for a switch.
Mikami was now sitting bolt upright. Was it the kidnapper? Surely it was too early. It was 11.13. They had close to fifty minutes left until the deadline for getting together the ransom.
Ogata and Minegishi were on their feet behind Burly. Matsuoka was hidden in their shadow. A muffled sound emerged from the wall speakers. A phone, ringing. Once, twice . . . Pencil-face pulled his headphones half off and turned around.
‘We’ve got a number. It’s Kasumi Mesaki’s mobile.’
The kidnapper
. No one moved. No one breathed.
Three rings. Four.
Click
. Someone had picked up.
–
H . . . hello? This is Mesaki. Hello . . .?
It was Masato Mesaki’s voice. He sounded terrified.
–
Hello? Can you hear me? H . . . hello?
– Do you have the money?
Mikami felt himself shiver. The kidnapper’s voice, alien-sounding from the helium, echoed crushingly through the hold.
– Yes . . . I’ve got it. It’s all ready. Please, let me hear my daughter’s voice. I’m begging you. Just for a moment . . .
– Leave now, bring the money and a phone. I want it at the Aoi Café in Aoi-machi, City D. Make sure you’re there by 11.50.
The Aoi Café. The kidnapper really was planning to trace the Six Four route.
– Okay . . . 11.50. The Aoi Café. I think I know it. Right . . . yes . . . I think I’ve seen a billboard advertising it. Next to the main road . . . and a bookstore. I’m leaving right now. I’m bringing the money. If you could just let me—
Beep beep beep beep.
The line went dead.
Nobody moved. They were waiting. Matsuoka’s eyes were locked shut. He looked like he was meditating.
‘Sir, what is it?’
The voice leaked from the phone in Mikami’s hand, hanging now by his side. It pulled him out of the reverie; he put the phone back to his ear.
‘Sir, what is it? Has something happened?’
It’s started.
Mikami came close to saying it. For a moment he thought it would be okay. Suwa just had to keep it to himself for twenty minutes . . .
But . . .
Get out.
It would all be over if Matsuoka said the words.
Mikami made a note of the time: 11.16.
‘I’ll call back in exactly twenty minutes. Until then, try to get some sleep.’
‘Pick it up.’ Ogata issued the instruction through the panel leading to the front. The engine roared into life and the vehicle began to accelerate rapidly. They were on the verge of crossing into the city. Information was flying back and forth. Ogata was on the radio, Minegishi mostly on the mobiles. Both maintained constant communication with the Investigative HQ and the vehicles already mobilized.
‘Get Forensics on to the background noise. ASAP.’
‘Hold your position! Do not move in until we know the origin of the call. Repeat, standby.’
‘Mesaki sounds like he’s losing control. Tell him he needs to stop the car before he answers any more calls. We can’t have him causing an accident.’
They were impressive, living up to their reputation as the future leaders of the department. They seemed able to read Matsuoka’s thoughts, relaying his wishes with precise instructions, efficient and faultless as they dealt with the information coming in. More than anything, they were in tune with each other. They never repeated themselves, never got in the other’s way, made sure always to seek confirmation before acting. It was like watching a two-headed dragon weave a dance through the hemmed-in container.
It was a different story outside the vehicle.