Authors: Hideo Yokoyama
Evident in the communications between the Investigative HQ, Station G and the front-line vehicles, confusion and panic
were rife. The officers had been caught off guard. Was that why the kidnapper had decided to bring the deadline forward? Or had something gone wrong with the plan?
‘I want green lights, the whole way.’
It had been Matsuoka’s first detailed instruction: fix the lights to make sure Mesaki’s car makes it in time. They needed him to hurry. Mesaki had left his home at eleven fifteen, immediately after the kidnapper had ended the call. He’d had thirty-five minutes until the designated time. Getting to City D and Aoi-machi took forty minutes even without traffic; with traffic, the trip could last more than an hour. One of the screens inside the command vehicle was broadcasting information from Traffic Management. While there were no jams, the whole of the prefectural highway was flagged as having medium-to-heavy traffic. Matsuoka had given the order the moment Pencil-face had performed the calculation: Mesaki would be late by twelve or thirteen minutes. They already had people in place to manage the lights. Officers from Traffic were posted at every intersection en route, all in Tokyo Electric Power outfits. They would be notified by radio when Mesaki’s car was approaching; then, taking care not to stand out, they would flip open the control box and fix the lights to green, returning them to normal once Mesaki was through. Like a game of Chinese whispers, the green lights would transmit down the line, preventing any major disruption of normal traffic.
‘Mobile Command, this is Pursuit 1.’
‘This is Mobile Command, go ahead.’
‘We have a green at the Kuwabara intersection. Mesaki’s through.’
‘Copy.’
Kuwabara was three intersections behind the Mobile Command Centre. They’d passed it only two minutes earlier. The gap was closing. Around here, the road was a dual carriageway. Mesaki would be picking up speed. He would be on them in no time.
Mikami’s notebook was permanently open. Whenever new information came in, he would take a note and mark the time. He would then add twenty minutes to the number and write the time the embargo lifted next to it. At 11.51, he could tell the press that Mesaki had passed the Kuwabara intersection. By that time, he would have probably already arrived at the Aoi Café. Still, as far as the press were concerned Mesaki was still at home. There were five minutes until the embargo lifted on the kidnapper’s call. Mikami felt restless. He’d never thought twenty minutes could stretch out for so long.
They entered City D. The buildings were growing taller.
‘We’ve got the area of the call.’ Burly spoke up, after getting off the phone with DoCoMo. ‘Yuasa Radio Tower. Genbu. Districts: Yuasa-cho and Asahimachi.’
‘Genbu again,’ Mikami muttered, taking the details down. The kidnapper was still in Genbu. What was the plan, having already sent Mesaki to City D? There was no way they could get to the Aoi Café ahead of him, not with Mesaki racing through green lights all the way. Besides, using the prefectural highway would mean passing twice through the N-system of automatic numberplate recognition. Maybe the kidnapper had no intention of going to City D and was instead planning to aim directly for another destination, somewhere already decided as the final handover point. A second possibility was that there was an accomplice, watching from somewhere near the Aoi Café.
It didn’t feel right. It was sloppy, whether the kidnapper was working alone or as part of a group. They’d made two calls from Genbu City. Then, despite having a mobile that could be used anywhere, they’d made another call from inside the city limits. It didn’t make sense. The calls would be traced to the general area. The circle would narrow.
What if the kidnapper didn’t realize the danger? It was possible, if it was Kasumi. She hated her father and now she had him in a panic. She would be enjoying every minute of it. She would
have no intention of taking the money – to her it wasn’t even a hoax . . . just some practical joke.
No . . .
The kidnapper isn’t female
. That was what Mikami’s intuition had told him the moment he’d heard the helium-altered voice. He hadn’t been able to tell the gender outright, but it had been clear from the kidnapper’s way of speaking, from the aggressive but not overstated tone, the mix of threat and restraint, that the speaker wasn’t a seventeen-year-old girl. If it was a joke, an act she was putting on, she would have to be in it with an experienced, and male, accomplice.
‘Let me see that.’
Mikami glanced at one of the screens over Matsuoka’s shoulder. Brought up on the display was a map of the general area of the call, centred around Yuasa-cho and Asahimachi. At Matsuoka’s request, Pencil-face zoomed in on the image. Yuasa-cho appeared mostly residential. The surprise was Asahimachi. It was located right next to Nagimachi, the area of the second call from the day before. Not part of the red-light district but crowded all the same. Lining the city road as it crossed the district were large out-of-town supermarkets, home-appliance stores, bowling alleys, outlet stores and a few of the large national chains selling business suits and shoes.
Out for a good time.
The three areas seemed at first to shore up the idea of the kidnapping being a hoax. There were, of course, other explanations. The kidnapper was using the bustle to hide. Keeping near a train station to ensure an easy getaway should the need arise. Mikami couldn’t decide. Was it a hoax? A genuine kidnapping? It was impossible to draw a conclusion either way.
‘Sir, he’s passing us now,’ Ogata said. His finger was pointing towards one of the rear monitors. A white coupé, listing slightly towards the centre of the road. Fifty metres back. Still too far to make out the driver’s face.
‘Put us in the right-hand lane,’ Minegishi instructed the driver over the radio.
A moment later, the vehicle drew smoothly towards the central division. The reason for the change became immediately clear. With the fast lane blocked, Mesaki had pulled left; he was overtaking on the inside. The driver’s side was next to the command vehicle – they’d be able to see him close up.
All eyes turned to the monitors showing the left side of the vehicle. The moment they saw the white coupé pull up alongside them, it was gone.
But . . .
They’d had enough time to get a clear view of Mesaki’s profile.
He’d been bent forwards, bunched over the steering column, his face all but pressed against the windscreen.
Forwards. Forwards.
His eyes had been glaring at something in the far distance. His teeth were bared, clenched tight, his gums bright red. He was a man on a warpath, a fire that was out of control. The expression had contrasted starkly with that of Yoshio Amamiya, who had looked as though his blood had frozen over.
Mikami shivered, feeling the tangible connection to the case. Mesaki was a fireball heading to a single destination. The Aoi Café.
‘Sir . . .’
Matsuoka’s eyes were still focused on the monitor. Pursuit 1 and Pursuit 2 were next to overtake the command vehicle. The camera picked up their fleeting eye contact.
‘. . . is Minako at the Aoi Café?’
‘No.’
‘Where is she posted?’
‘I can’t tell you.’
‘Mobile Command, this is Pursuit 1.’
‘Why not?’
‘This is Mobile Command, go ahead.’
‘She’s working with Special Operations.’
Mikami pulled back slightly. Minako, with Special Operations?
‘We have a green at the Katayama-cho 3-chome intersection. Mesaki’s through.’
‘Copy.’
‘What’s she doing?’
‘It’s Special Ops. I can’t tell you.’
‘I’m her husband.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Is it dangerous?’
‘No, she’ll be fine.’
Mikami regretted asking. Matsuoka had cooled since he’d said Kasumi’s name. Although . . . maybe it wasn’t just with him. The man’s responses were increasingly terse, even with the others. And he hadn’t issued any instructions since the lights. He was thinking in silence, looking almost lethargic, most of the time keeping his eyes closed. Was he sick? Mikami realized Matsuoka was starting to worry.
He jumped when he saw the time. 11.35. As it took a while to get past Burly, he should start towards the rear of the hold. He moved quickly, pushing forwards and past the man blocking the walkway. He opened his mobile; the moment the display switched to 11.36 he hit the button to dial Suwa’s mobile. Probably already waiting, Suwa answered before the phone had a chance to ring.
The background was still noisy, but this time they were able to talk normally.
‘The kidnapper made a third call to Mesaki’s home,’ Mikami said without pausing.
‘Right! What time?’
‘Twenty minutes ago. Wait . . . hang on. No. The call was at 11.13.’
Checking the numbers in his notebook, Mikami felt a rush of blood to his head.
Damn it. Idiot. Why didn’t I use the time the call actually came in?
‘Sir? Hello . . .?’
‘Sorry. I’ll give you the details. Take this down.’
‘Go ahead.’
Mikami related the details of the call.
Helium. Money and a phone. Aoi Café by 11.50.
‘But . . . 11.50? It’s almost 11.50 now. It’s already thirty-seven minutes past.’
‘I know.’
‘So Mesaki’s already on his way?’
‘That’s right. He left the house at eleven fifteen.’
‘Where is he now? Is he in City D?’
Mikami managed to catch himself. ‘I can’t say. I’ve got to wait twenty minutes.’
‘Twenty minutes? I don’t . . .’
‘There has to be a time lag. I got in here on that condition.’
‘Right, of course . . . okay. But you can tell me first, can’t you?’
‘Incoming call. Mesaki’s mobile.’ Burly spoke up again. ‘The caller is . . . using Kasumi’s mobile. Patching it through.’
‘Sir?’
‘I have to hang up. Just bear with me on this.’
The kidnapper’s fourth call. The sound of the ringing resonated through the hold. Mesaki answered immediately.
– This is Mesaki. What is it?
His voice was close to a shriek.
– Turn right at the Katayama-cho 3-chome intersection, join the ring road.
Mikami couldn’t believe it. They’d just passed the intersection at 3-chome. Which meant Mesaki’s car had . . .
– The 3-chome intersection? But I’m . . . I’ve already passed it!
A pause followed.
– Make a u-turn, right now.
– You want me to turn around? Okay, yes . . .
Was the kidnapper hoping to throw them off course, moving
to an original script now the police were convinced it was a copycat crime? Or had something happened to force the kidnapper into making a quick revision of the plan? Whatever the case, Mesaki speeding through all the lights had been unexpected. The brief silence that followed Mesaki’s answer had highlighted the kidnapper’s surprise and disbelief.
‘Urgent, urgent! Mobile Command, this is Pursuit 1. Mesaki has just made a u-turn. Continuing pursuit.’
‘Pursuit 1, do not follow. Take the next two right turns, then turn left at the next intersection to join the ring road. Pursuit 2, left for three turns to follow.’ Once he’d finished, Ogata turned to look at Matsuoka. ‘Sir, what do you want us to do?’
‘We follow Pursuit 1.’
‘Affirmative.’
Ogata used the radio to relay this to the driver. To his side, Minegishi had the mobile labelled Kitou pressed to his ear. Burly was fixing various wires into the monitors, moving with a speed at odds with his size.
‘Make sure Mesaki remains calm.’
‘I can’t.’ The voice that came back was muffled. Kitou was speaking from under a blanket on the floor behind the front seats. ‘He’s still on the phone. I can’t talk to him.’
‘How fast is he going now?’
‘Hold on. Eighty . . . no, closer to eighty-five.’
‘Use your nightstick to give him a jab. Softly though, like he’s a peach.’
– Have you turned around?
They were interrupted by the helium voice.
– Yes! I just need to join the ring road, yes?
– That’s right. Turn left at the intersection you passed: 3-chome.
‘Mesaki approaching now!’ Pencil-face yelled.
The front-facing monitor. The white coupé was racing towards them in the opposite lane. Mesaki had his phone to his ear. He and the car flashed by. He was rocking violently backwards and
forwards, like a kid having a tantrum behind the wheel of a broken pedal car.
‘All Intercept Units in City D, this is Mobile Command. Intercept 1, hold position. Intercept 2, 3, 4 and 5, bring the back line forwards. Ogata! Mesaki’s going to crash if he continues like this.’
‘. . . cancel the green lights on the prefectural highway . . . cancel all green lights on the prefectural highway. Mesaki should be fine . . . he used to sell imported cars.’
‘. . . we can’t bring the line forwards. Three kilometres south . . . that’s where we need the intercept cars. And Mesaki’s doing eighty-five, with one hand!’
‘This is Mobile Command. Copy. Okay, let’s get him below seventy. Use two units to block his path – can you do that?’
Mikami was on edge. As if to suggest they couldn’t work seated down, Ogata and Minegishi were both on their feet, backs pressed together. It was the best way of keeping balance. The command vehicle swung roughly to one side then the other, switching lanes before making a right. The road was bad, making the vertical jolting worse.
‘Incoming call. DoCoMo. The origin of the call is . . . unchanged. Yuasa Radio Tower. Genbu. Districts: Yuasa-cho and Asahimachi.’
The kidnapper was still there. Perhaps moving, but still in the same general area.
‘Can they narrow the area at all?’ Mikami asked Pencil-face.
‘Not possible. Not without more radio towers. Or the phone having GPS.’
‘The phone having GPS?’
‘Right. Some of the new models come with GPS antennas. KDDI put a few on sale last year. Fantastic phones, but they didn’t catch on . . .’
Pencil-face looked for a moment like he’d forgotten everything else. He had long eyelashes, attractive eyes. Mikami sighed. It felt like he’d been treated as a guest. He
was
a guest, that much
was true. But Matsuoka was showing no signs of hospitality, despite having invited him in. Instead of cushions, he’d been given a hard, mushroom-like stool. He’d had to bear witness to Ogata and Minegishi’s impressive swordsmanship. It wasn’t humiliation he felt, but it certainly wasn’t comfortable. At the same time, he had to reflect on his luck, that he had managed to go with them in the command vehicle . . . To reflect on his luck . . .