Remote Control

by Kotaro Isaka

  "Aoyagi, there's no point in running," said a plainclothes officer in front of them. "You can't get away."

  "Don't come any closer or I'll cut his throat," Aoyagi shouted. Iwasaki had assured him that the police would behave reasonably, that they were trained to be cautious—and so far it seemed he was right. "Move back!" he called.

  The ones in uniform glanced at the man in the suit who had spoken earlier, a detective probably. "A cop is just like any other working stiff," Iwasaki had told him. "He can't go shooting people anytime he feels like it; he basically waits around for someone to tell him what to do."

  With obvious reluctance, the detective held up his hand and signaled for the others to retreat a few steps. Still holding on to Iwasaki, Aoyagi edged side-w'ays toward the fence along the road. Then he began slowly backing away. The police follow'ed at a distance. "So far so good," Iwasaki said under his breath.

  "Sorry," Aoyagi muttered.

  "We'll get to those apartments in just a second. You know what to do. T he street doesn't go through the complex, so they'll have to follow on foot. You can run through to the river or head for the j:)ark. You're a driver, you know' the layout."

  "I'm sorry," he said again.

  "No need t(^ apologize," iwasaki whispered. "(Consider us even for my luck w'ith the girls at the club."

  "I'll remember to let your wile know how gratelul you w'ere."

  "When this is over, we'll have you over and you can tell her in |)erson!" Resisting the urge to smile—and ruin their whole show'- Aoycigi looked up iit the row ol stony faces. He began to lose heart. SoimThing told him they were about to shoot.

  Iwasaki had assured him they would never endanger .m innotent byslandei.

  REMOTE CONTROL

  particularly someone who had agreed to cooperate but was now being held hostage. But his assumption was based on the normal code of conduct, and these were anything but normal times. This was a state of emergency. Remember Kobatozawa shooting out the restaurant window, Kazu lying half dead on the floor of his apartment? The rules had changed, or else the police weren't playing by them anymore. They had Masaharu Aoyagi standing in front of them, lined up in their sights, and they weren't about to let him get away. From the giant's point of view, it made no difference whether they shot him alone or with someone else. Absolutely no difference. But it made a difference to him. How could he let Iwasaki get hurt?

  The detective had a cell phone to his ear, and Aoyagi thought he could imagine the exchange. "He's got a hostage. Do I have permission to take the shot?" All he needed was confirmation from someone up the chain of command, perhaps even their old friend Sasaki.

  "Damn rubbernecks," Iwasaki muttered close to his ear, and Aoyagi followed his line of sight up to the apartment block across the way. Here and there, curious faces looked down from the balconies.

  "Don't shoot!" Aoyagi suddenly blurted out. "And smile for the camera!" His hand moved away from Iwasaki's throat to point at the building. Iwasaki, of course, made no move to get away, though the police seemed to be too busy to notice. They turned to look in the direction Aoyagi had indicated: nearly everyone in sight had a video or digital camera trained on them.

  The detective turned back to Aoyagi with a look of open hatred. Too many witnesses. There was resignation in his eyes.

  Keeping the fence at his back and Iwasaki in front of him, Aoyagi retreated the last little stretch down the street. When he reached the corner, he pushed Iwasaki away and fled into the apartment complex.

  Masaharu Aoyagi

  He ran along the bank of the Nanakita River until he found himself under a large bridge. From the moment he released Iwasaki, he had run flat out, and

  THE INCIDENT

  he was gasping for air. Resting in the shadow of a piling, he noticed a plaque that should have told him the name of the bridge, but it was worn and illegible. Iwasaki had been right about running through the apartment buildings: not only did they have to follow him on foot, but they couldn't open fire with so many bystanders around. Still, he had stumbled along feeling certain that a hand would reach out and grab him at any moment.

  He leaned against the piling, sinking down and putting his palms flat on the concrete behind him. If he curled up, made himself small, it might be harder to see him from the bridge. The blind of tall weeds on either side would help. As he sat and waited, the cool of the earth seeped through his jeans. His brain was frozen, overwhelmed by the task of recovering the oxygen it had lost as he ran. His gaze drifted out to the barely rippling surface of the river, lapping along in a gentle, rhythmic motion.

  He struggled to keep his eyes open. The world around him blurred, and a huge weight seemed to have come to rest on his shoulders. He was suddenly afraid that he could no longer stand—but even that seemed to come to him through a dense cloud.

  A siren wailing in the distance startled him awake. Hungry for news, he extracted the game unit from his backpack, pulled out the antenna, and hit the power button. As the screen lit up, he thought for an instant that he would see himself crouching here by the river, complete with approj:)riate voiceover: "And here we have the suspect, Aoyagi, busy with his computer game." In fact, what appeared was an elaborately produced commercial. l-Tames tlickered up, filling the screen, then died away to reveal what appeared to be the kitchen in a fancy Chinese restaurant. As he watched, though, it became clear that the cuisine was French—a commercial for a packaged sauce marketed by a famous chef.

  I've been there, Aoyagi thought, with Haruko. She had insisted they go to celebrate the anniversary of the start of their relationship—three months before? Something of the sort. Or rather, they'd intended to go on their iinni-versary but they'd been caught in a sudden downpour and had to cancel the reservation and j)ostj)one the visit to another day. In the end, after all the buildup, the food had not lived up to its re|)utati()n aiul the sliitl hatl been rude to them—a j)retty miserable evening. Still, it seemed like a happy meiiKjry compared to the current state of alfairs.

  Wlien tile commercial ended, the screen showed a shot ol an announcer

  REMOTE CONTROL

  witli a microphone, and in the background a place he knew well. "Rocky," he whispered as he recognized Todoroki Pyrotechnics.

  Rocky had told them that he had picked the location for the factory to avoid problems with neighbors—since there weren't any when they'd moved in. But as time went by, houses crept closer and closer and they started hearing complaints about the dangers of living near a fireworks factory. They were even asked to move out. "I was here first," Rocky liked to mutter—and, in fact, from the shot on the TV it seemed he had managed to stay put.

  "We haven't been able to reach Mr. Todoroki for comment." The reporter seemed to be talking to the announcer back in the studio. "It's too early to say whether Aoyagi used the knowledge of explosives he gained here in the current incident, but it has to be considered a possibility."

  Aoyagi no longer had the energy to feel indignant. His only concern was the trouble he must be causing Rocky. He stood up, closing his hand over the miniature TV. "Who made you judge and jury? You don't know shit about me." He felt more determined than ever not to give in.

  As he swung his pack onto his shoulder, an image came into his head: the little yellow car in a clump of bushes where he and Haruko had taken refuge from the storm.

  h

  Haruko Higuchi

  Haruko strapped Nanami into her car seat. "Where are we going. Mommy?" she asked. They had walked back from the restaurant and gone straight to the parking lot next to their building.

  "1 just remembered something we have to do," Haruko told her, closing the rear door. Climbing in the front, she adjusted the mirror and the seat. "Mommy," Nanami called from the back, "are we going to get a cake?" Haruko laughed. "Is that the only reason we get in the car?"

  "To get a toy?" she tried.

  "Not today." As she turned the ignition, she realized how rarely she had driven lately. She backed out of the space and
left the parking lot. Her cell

  THE INCIDENT

  phone in the well next to the handbrake caught her eye; it made her uncomfortable to know they might be listening.

  It had been so long since she'd been this way she wondered whether she could remember the route. "1 wish we'd got that GPS," she murmured. Her husband had wanted one when they bought the car, but she had insisted they would never use it.

  Nanami had heard her. "Don't you know where we're going?"

  "1 do," she said, "but the GPS makes it easier."

  "To go where?"

  "Memory Lane," Haruko laughed.

  "Does it know how to get there?" Nanami asked. Haruko wasn't sure she knew herself; she would simply have to see how it went. She took Route 4 heading west, then turned right onto a narrower street that meandered through blocks of modest houses. The traffic wasn't heavy, but there was a steady stream of cars in both directions. Out of practice and distracted as she was, she found it hard to keep her mind on the road.

  Fortunately, all the turns came back to her as she drove, and she was managing to find her way without going astray. Just then, Nanami began to complain that she needed to stop for the bathroom. "1 think 1 drank too much juice," she said.

  "Looks like they caught him."

  Haruko started. While she was waiting in a convenience store for Nanami to come out of the bathroom, she heard a voice behind her and turned to find two girls reading at the magazine rack. She wanted to j)ush in between them to see what they were looking at.

  "You mean that Aoyagi guy? T he one who killed the j^rime minister?" the other girl asked. T he |)hrase rang in Haruko's ears.

  "SomelxMy in class saw the police around a truck near the subway station at Ya(jt(jme," said the first girl. "She said he came out ot the truck."

  1 laruko pretended to l)rowse in a shell ol cosmetics as she tried to catch what they were saying. It they already had him, it was too late—and maybe he really was guilty. For a second she imagined tlujt getting caught might be |)i()()l ol guilt.

  "I'm done, Mommy," Nanami said, smiling u|) at Ikm now and wiping Ikm wet hands on her mother's jeans. "1 did it all by niysell!"

  REMOTE CONTROL

  The girls from the newsstand were in front of them in line when they went to pay for the candy Nanami had selected. They looked almost like twins, identical hair and makeup and baskets filled with magazines and junk food. A cell phone rang and one of them answered.

  ''Right now? Waiting to pay," she drawled, sounding slightly exasperated. "What? Really? He got away again? Really? Cameras? Think they got you? Really?" Haruko felt grateful for the girl's otherwise annoying habit of repeating everything her friend said on the other end; Then Nanami looked up at her for a moment, smiled, and turned to the girls.

  "He got away?" she asked, tugging on a sleeve. "The bad man?" The girls seemed startled, but when they saw Nanami, they relaxed.

  "That's right," one of them said. "He got away."

  "The bomb man?" Nanami persisted. Her mother took a step closer.

  "That's right. My friend said he had a knife."

  "A knife?" Haruko echoed, but just then a clerk appeared at the next register and she moved over with Nanami to pay.

  As soon as they were back in the car, she picked up the phone. She wanted to know where Aoyagi was, whether he had been arrested or not; but who could she call? She dialed a number and hit "send," though she was almost sure the line would be busy.

  "Who is it?" Todoroki's familiar voice barked.

  "It's me," she said, hurrying to add, "Haruko Higuchi. I used to work for you when I was in school . . . with Morita. . . ."

  Silence. Maybe he didn't remember her, or didn't want to get more involved than he already was. She was beginning to think he'd hung up when he finally answered.

  "Haruko?"

  "You remember me?"

  "How could I forget? Especially with your friend causing such a fuss."

  "I'm sorry," she said, noting that he'd said "your friend."

  "I assume you had nothing to do with it."

  "No, of course not, but I saw the factory on TV and all the reporters. It must be a pain."

  "Tm a pretty popular guy right now," he chuckled.

  THE INCIDENT

  “1 imagine they're making it hard to get anything done."

  "Fortunately, this is our slow season. We've been able to keep the cameras outside, but the guys in the factory are a little unhappy. Only a few of them actually knew Aoyagi, but the reporters seem to want me, and they don't give up easy. Someone's constantly at the door or on the phone."

  "And you always said pyrotechnics was a lonely business."

  "Not anymore. 1 guess this is my fifteen minutes."

  "But what do they want?"

  "To know whether I taught Aoyagi anything about explosives."

  "Did you?"

  "Of course not, absolutely nothing at all. If that kid knows how to make a bomb, then I know how to make a rocket to the moon." Todoroki was laughing now, too. "When the first reporter showed up, 1 heard him out. 1 told him 1 didn't think he did it."

  "But thev cut that out of the interview. It was never on," Haruko said. The media seemed to do little more than reflect public opinion back on itself. Not that they lied exactly, but their truth was highly selective. "1 don't think he did it either."

  "And the part about Morita . . . more lies."

  "1 know."

  "It's not easy to get rid of a nuisance like that," he said, forcing a laugh.

  "I hope not," said Haruko, wanting to believe it. Her fist tightened around the phone when she remembered the police might be listening. She knew they were keeping track of her calls, and they would no doubt be curious when they saw she was getting in touch with the owner of the fireworks factory. But maybe if they heard the two of them say that they didn't believe Aoyagi was guilty, they might consider the possibility. She liked the idea of planting a seed of doubt in their minds.

  "So to what d(j 1 owe the j)leasure?" Todoroki said.

  Haruko wasn't sure herself why she had called. "1 just wantetl to tell you how sorry 1 am lor all the trouble."

  "Very thoughtful ot you. But 1 suj)j)ose we should both he more worried about Aoyagi. He's still out there somewhere. T hey said he took a truck driver hostage and then got away. 1 wonder where he's headeil."

  ".Maybe your way," she joked, before reali/hig it wasn't out of the c|uesti()n.

  REMOTE CONTROL

  She suspected Aoyagi might not have a lot of close friends he could count on in a pinch. But did anyone? How many people in a lifetime do we really come to trust? ''So have you come up with any great new fireworks?" she asked, feeling the need to change the subject.

  "One or two. But we still have all the old standbys. That's what brings them out on a summer night." Haruko remembered the displays she'd watched from Todoroki's staging area.

  "Let's talk again soon," she said, and then started to give him her number.

  "It's right here on my phone," he interrupted. "Even I know that."

  "Very up to date," she said.

  "Like my fireworks."

  "But there was one thing I wanted to ask you," she said before he could hang up.

  "How to make a bomb?"

  Haruko frowned, wondering again who might be listening. "No, I want to know where I can get a car battery."

  "A battery? Is yours dead?"

  "Almost," she said, rubbing her hands along the steering wheel. "My husband told me to get a new one when I had time."

  "So you're married, too?" Todoroki said.

  "Life goes on."

  "Well, you could get a battery at an auto parts store, and most gas stations carry them, though they're more expensive. I've got some guys around here with nothing to do. Should I send one over to give you a hand?"

  "Nothing to do?" she said.

  "With all this ruckus, I can't get them to settle down to work. My son went off to play pachinko and hasn't come back."
>
  "But he came back from Aomori to work with you?" Haruko said. They had known how upset he was that his only son had gone off to live in another city without making it clear whether he intended to take over the factory.

  "For the time being anyway. Ichiro has the skills for this business, but his personality's all wrong. He's too impetuous, a bit of a rebel. This morning he got so worked up we had to stop him from throwing a firecracker at the reporters outside."

  "They would have loved that."

  THE INCIDENT

  'That's why 1 made him go and play pachinko. But I think 1 can get in touch with him. Should 1 send him to help you with the battery?"

  "No, I can manage." She thanked him and pressed "end." "Sorry that took so long," she said over her shoulder to Nanami. She pulled out of the parking lot and stepped on the accelerator.

  A few minutes later, she turned onto the Sendai Kita Loop Road. It sloped gently downhill; traffic was sluggish. Perhaps people had decided to escape the confusion in the aftermath of the assassination, or maybe it was just a reaction to the lockdown yesterday. Soon she was sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic. A sign for an auto parts store caught her eye on the left and she turned into the parking lot. "Is this Memory Lane?" Nanami asked. Ha-ruko laughed and shook her head.

  Helping Nanami out of her car seat, she locked the doors and headed into the store. On the way, she studied the traffic on the Loop: with so little space between cars, she should be able to tell immediately if someone was following her.

  When she told the girl behind the counter that she wanted a car battery, her reply was curt: "What kind?" Haruko supposed she meant what kind of car.

  "The normal kind," she said, matching the girl's tone.

  "Compact? Mid-size?"

  "1 don't think it was a compact," she murmured. She had a vague recollection that it was yellow. "Can you buy a battery without knowing what kind of car it's for?"

  A look of disdain showed in the girl's eyes. "T here's all kinds of batteries. Lven the same maker uses different ones depending on the model and the year. If you don't have the part number, there's no way to tell."