Six Four

by Hideo Yokoyama

  ‘Okay, good. Then give me some more. First, I need full names. Let’s start with the victim herself.’

  Suwa fumbled for his memo pad. His pen remained still in his hand.

  ‘I can’t give you their names.’

  ‘What?’ Mikami’s anger spilled over. He’d read the files on the press and kidnapping. There were no precedents for any headquarters giving the press anonymous information. ‘Why not?’

  ‘It can’t be helped.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because . . . there’s a chance this is a hoax. That someone’s just pretending to copy Six Four.’

  ‘A hoax? You think it’s a hoax just because it resembles Six Four?’

  ‘Not just that.’

  ‘Then tell me why. The calls were made from the victim’s mobile, right?’

  Mikami glanced down at the papers. Call made from C’s mobile. No ambiguity. Which meant that the parents’ home phone had caller-display functionality. And that the investigators had already finished confirming the record with the phone companies.

  In which case . . .

  ‘So you’ve got reason to believe that the kidnapper found, maybe stole, the daughter’s phone? You’ve got something that suggests that?’

  Mikura gave a churlish sigh and shook his head.

  ‘No, that’s not what I mean. Just that, at the moment, we can’t dismiss the possibility that this is the girl’s own doing.’

  Her own doing? Mikami drew back. The daughter staging her own kidnapping?

  ‘She has issues, you see. She hardly goes home, only when it’s to ask for money or pick up a change of clothes. She’s registered with the high school, but spends all her time – day and night – hanging around with friends. The truth is, her whereabouts have been unknown since she left home a couple of nights ago. It’s our view that she’s either teamed up with a man she knows, or that someone’s putting her up to this. We don’t know if she’s making a real attempt at getting the 20 million or if she’s just done this as a prank. She’s capable of either.’

  It didn’t sound right.

  ‘The girl’s seventeen. Are you saying this boyfriend looked fourteen years back to research Six Four?’

  ‘With a mobile, she could contact someone in their fifties, even local Yakuza, in just minutes. Even if the guy was younger, it’s easy to find out about Six Four. You only need enter “kidnapping” into your computer . . . it’s all Six Four. And unsolved means successful, so it’s easy to see why they’d choose it as a model.’

  Mikami didn’t agree. The idea didn’t hold together. It sounded made up, a fancy born of hypothesis and conjecture.

  ‘That’s why you can’t give me the girl’s name?’

  ‘It’s cause enough. It will be fatal if we were to announce her name to the public – bearing in mind she’s a juvenile – and then have the case turn out to be a hoax.’

  ‘Publicly? Don’t misunderstand this. We give the press her name in a private capacity. They can’t print a word with a coverage agreement in place, not until the ban is lifted. Even if it did end up as a hoax and the agreement was nullified, they still couldn’t print her name – she would fall under juvenile law. There’s no danger of her name getting out.’

  ‘That’s not what would happen. The press would crowd around her home the moment the agreement was lifted. We’re talking about a high-school student who faked her own kidnapping. There’s money, men, family breakdown. It’s a goldmine for them. The tabloids will come and join the fray, as will the TV. Whether or not her name gets out, the family will become the victims of a media storm.’

  Mikami was tired of hearing this kind of excuse. No – he was tired of reeling it out himself.

  ‘That’s why Media Relations exists, to prevent that from happening. Just let us get on with our job.’

  ‘I can’t, the case is too big. The girl will end up being the focus of all the excitement that gets generated around a kidnapping and ransom – the anger, too, if it’s a hoax.’

  ‘It’s because the case is big that I’m telling you this. What if it turns out not to be a hoax? That’s when the real bloodbath starts, unless you have a coverage agreement in effect.’

  ‘Hence we’re preparing for both eventualities. We keep her identity secret, but we also convey everything we know about the case. Like I just told you.’

  ‘The identity is non-negotiable. Take me to Arakida if you’re not prepared to tell me yourself.’

  ‘I’m in charge of this. Nobody else will respond to you,’ Mikura said, matter-of-fact.

  He’d left Mikami with no room for leverage. When dealing with a big case, it seemed even someone with ‘ant’s balls’ was able to step up their game.

  Mikami checked his watch, his restlessness trumping anger and frustration. The situation was worsening with each passing moment. The reporters didn’t even know the kidnapping had occurred. Three hours and twenty-four minutes since the report. Already dangerously close to cover-up territory. Mikami pulled off the clip fastening the two sheets and pressed the one containing the details into Suwa’s hands.

  ‘Copy that down.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘When you’re done, notify the Press Club.’

  There was sudden fear in his eyes. ‘Sir, like this? Without the names?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  Suwa was staring into empty space, no doubt having glimpsed the maelstrom of anger that would ensue. This was yesterday’s today. They were trying to resurrect anonymous reporting despite the promise they had just made – and for a kidnapping and ransom, a case the press would unanimously deem of the utmost importance.

  ‘Suwa.’

  ‘But . . . sir . . .’ Suwa’s expression was the same as that of yesterday.

  It would be close to impossible to repeal the right, once we’ve given it to them. The resistance would be many, many times that of if they hadn’t had it in the first place.

  That’s why we won’t take it away. We’ll see it through.

  They would be closing the window.

  But the situation was too pressing to hold off. And there were other reasons to notify the press as fast as possible. Their tentacles were not to be underestimated. Each of the papers had its own unique web of contacts, covering the entirety of the prefecture. If one was to notice something unusual in Genbu . . . If they started to sniff around, not knowing it was a kidnapping . . . And if the kidnapper was to notice their activity . . .

  An image of Ayumi flashed into being under closed eyelids, her face puffy with tears. There was nothing to guarantee the kidnapping was a hoax. No reason to assume it was. The life of a seventeen-year-old girl hung in the balance – every moment counted.

  ‘Copy it down, now! I want the press notified – and the provisional agreement in effect – in the next five minutes.’

  ‘They’ll never sign the official agreement, not without names. They’ll riot. We won’t even be able to hold a discussion.’

  ‘Tell them we’re working on a second and a third announcement to follow. Do what you can to get the foundations in place.’

  ‘I can’t do that, not in—’

  ‘You will. I’ll get the names. All I’m asking you to do is keep the peace until then. You’ll be press director one day – you’ve got to do it.’

  Everything went quiet. Suwa’s eyes were distracted when he looked at Mikami. Finally, he collapsed into a chair, bit down on his lip and opened his memo pad, holding the report in one hand.

  Mikami’s eyes came back up.

  ‘I can’t give you their names,’ Mikura said, anticipating Mikami’s question.

  But Mikami had something else in mind when he pulled out his notebook and pen. ‘Do you know if the kidnapper is male or female?’

  ‘Sorry, what?’

  ‘The helium. What did the girl’s mother think?’

  ‘Uh . . .’

  ‘I don’t have time to mess around, Mikura.’

  The man wanted to object, but
nodded. ‘She couldn’t tell whether the voice was male or female.’

  Mikami was still writing when he asked his next question. ‘What about an accent?’

  ‘She wasn’t sure. I don’t think it would stand out either way, not with the helium, not unless the accent was particularly strong.’

  ‘The kidnapper didn’t give a name during the first call?’

  ‘According to the girl’s mother, no. But she was pretty distraught.’

  ‘She dies if you talk to the police. Did they say anything like that?’

  The kidnapper had during Six Four, on the first call.

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  Mikami’s eyes travelled to Suwa’s hands.

  ‘Yet it still took her parents twenty-five minutes to report it in. What were they doing?’

  ‘Trying to call their daughter on her mobile. And they were worried about reporting it. The kidnapper hadn’t made it explicit, but they were still afraid their daughter might be killed if they involved us. They’d had to discuss it first.’

  Suwa had flipped his pad shut and was getting to his feet. Mikami finished writing and tore the page from his notebook. He handed this and the first sheet of the proposal over.

  ‘I’m counting on you.’

  Suwa made a deep nod, looking determined. ‘I’ll be waiting for the follow-up,’ he said quietly, before jogging out of the room.

  Mikami knew he couldn’t return without the names. His mind made up, he turned back towards Mikura. Just then, his phone went off in his jacket pocket. It was Ishii.

  ‘Mikami, were you able to—’

  ‘There’s been a kidnapping.’

  ‘A kidnapping?’

  ‘I’m getting more details. Suwa is en route to Media Relations. Get in touch with him,’ Mikami dictated. He ended the call. As he did, Ishii’s voice had rattled, shrill against his eardrums.

  But, that means the commissioner can’t—

  Mikami folded his phone shut and placed it on the desk. The commissioner’s visit. He had forgotten all about it. The shock and mystery evoked by the kidnapping had had no effect on Ishii. His position as an office worker, a police officer in title alone, had let him forge an instant connection between the case and what was happening the following day.

  Ishii was right. Exactly right. There was no way Commissioner Kozuka could come, not now.

  They were in the midst of a brand-new kidnapping. To imagine the commissioner walking into this chaos to inspect a kidnapping from fourteen years earlier . . . Mikami couldn’t think of anything more absurd. What would he do, then? Would he force through the inspection, anyway, but reframe it as a visit to the front lines? Or would he use the kidnapping as an excuse to seize control? Would he arrive with a team from the bureau to lead the Investigative HQ, parade NPA leadership as established fact? No, it was too risky. If the kidnapper were to escape, it would be the same as entering into a suicide pact with the Prefectural HQ. They would lose face before the nation and never be able to bring up sequestration again. The visit would be postponed or cancelled outright. As of now – unless the kidnapping was solved straight away – the visit would not be going ahead.

  There was no great impact. Mikami’s emotional dial registered no disappointment, no sense of comfort; no exhilaration. All he was left to do was contemplate the irony, almost predestined, of the outcome. The spectre of Six Four ending the Six Four inspection. The prefecture had become Dallas after all, but because of Sato, not because of the Prefectural HQ or Criminal Investigations.

  ‘Is that enough for now?’ Mikura sounded impatient.

  Mikami examined the man again. He looked into his eyes, trying to see right through them. Still an ant, but a confident ant. That had been the impression from the start. Mikura’s composure made it hard to imagine that he had, only three and a half hours earlier, been appointed as one of the lead investigators in a kidnapping case, even though it might turn out to be a hoax. They saw it as a lucky break – the idea was repugnant but it was there, regardless. The kidnapping had saved Criminal Investigations from the commissioner’s visit.

  ‘Well, if you don’t have any more questions, I’ll—’

  ‘Of course I’ve got more bloody questions. My information is three and a half hours out of date,’ Mikami said, abandoning decorum as he opened his notebook again. ‘Come on, then . . . the girl’s mother tried calling her daughter on her mobile. What happened next?’

  ‘She couldn’t get through.’

  ‘That’s still the case?’

  ‘Yes. There’s no signal from the phone at all; the battery’s probably been taken out.’

  ‘Who’s the provider?’

  ‘DoCoMo.’

  ‘Have you been able to contact any of her friends?’

  ‘Her parents don’t even know their surnames, so . . .’

  Mikami flipped a page. ‘So they did a bad job of raising her?’

  ‘They smothered her. It seems her delinquency probably resulted from their excessive interference, when she was in primary and secondary school.’

  ‘Whose opinion is that?’

  ‘A city counsellor. One her parents took her to see once.’

  Mikami felt a throbbing in his ear.

  ‘Why did she go home two nights ago?’

  ‘To pick up some clothes.’

  ‘How was she acting? Anything out of the ordinary?’

  ‘She didn’t say anything, although for her that’s apparently normal.’

  Mikami turned to a new page.

  ‘What about warnings, of the kidnapping?’

  ‘They had some silent calls.’

  The throbbing again.

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Not sure. We’re still getting information from the parents.’

  ‘When did they get the calls?’

  ‘Around ten days ago.’

  ‘And the number?’

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘They’ve got caller display, right?’

  ‘Ah, yes. They said the call was made from a phone box.’

  Mikami felt a door creak open in his mind. He was letting his emotions get in the way.

  ‘Anything else of note?’

  ‘The girl’s mother said she saw a black van she didn’t recognize parked near the house.’

  ‘When was that?’

  ‘Three, maybe four days ago.’

  ‘Could they think of anyone who might bear them a grudge?’

  ‘They didn’t think so.’

  ‘What about the phone? Were there any reports of it being lost?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘From the girl. Maybe at a koban?’

  ‘Oh, we haven’t asked that. Still, if she had, this wouldn’t be a kidnapping—’

  ‘Have you asked the koban to report in?’

  ‘Well, no, we—’

  ‘You need to do that. Not just for phones – there’s a chance it came in as a bag.’

  Mikura gave him a perfunctory, uninterested nod.

  Mikami turned a page and continued.

  ‘When did the Home Unit get there? How many officers?’

  ‘I don’t know the exact time. Five officers.’

  ‘Did you get the second call on tape?’

  ‘We didn’t get there in time.’

  ‘What area was the kidnapper calling from?’

  ‘Uh . . .?’

  ‘I’m asking which base station picked up the outgoing signal? You have a three-kilometre radius around the station. You have checked with DoCoMo, right?’

  ‘All I know is that the call originated inside the prefecture.’

  He’d dodged the answer. Was he hiding something?

  ‘Find out and let me know.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll ask.’

  ‘Her father is self-employed; what kind of business is it?’

  ‘Telling you that would give away their identity.’

  ‘Okay, so a business with few competitors. Some kind of store?’

  ‘I
suppose, yes, that’s right.’

  ‘Based?’

  ‘In Genbu, in the city.’

  ‘Are they well off?’

  ‘They said they could just about put the ransom together.’

  ‘Does the girl have any other siblings?’

  ‘Yes, a younger sister.’

  ‘How old?’

  ‘Eleven. Year six in primary school.’

  ‘Year six . . .’

  Mikami stopped writing. The kidnapper had chosen the elder, not the younger of the two.

  ‘Exactly – that’s one of the reasons we thought it might be the girl’s own doing.’ There was something like pride in his voice.

  ‘Maybe the kidnapper was poorly organized. Maybe the crime was sexually motivated at first. Maybe the kidnapper was someone she knew. Surely there are lots of possible interpretations?’

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose.’

  Mikura was acting disinterested, just as he had when Mikami had asked about the lost-property reports. Something was wrong. The kidnapping had only just taken place. In light of that, weren’t they putting far too much emphasis on the idea that it was a hoax? Was that why Mikura’s statements lacked any sense of urgency?

  Maybe there was more. Maybe they had evidence, something decisive enough to convince the Investigative HQ that the case was a hoax. It would make sense then. It was possible Mikura’s self-possession stemmed not from the cancellation of the commissioner’s visit but from the optimism he had regarding the case.

  Mikami closed his notebook.

  ‘Why are you keeping Admin out of this?’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘In the assembly hall I saw management from Security, Community Safety, even Transport. Why were you so quick to bring them in, yet kept us out for three and a half hours?’

  ‘It’s just a matter of priority,’ Mikura answered, with no hesitation. ‘We would need to dispatch the riot squad for the search if any of the girl’s things were found. Transport can pretend to be pest control while carrying out number plate checks, collecting fingerprints. Community Safety can—’

  ‘What about Logistics?’ Mikami asked, cutting him off. ‘I’m pretty sure the first thing you need to establish an Investigative HQ is a budget and equipment.’

  ‘We didn’t think of it straight away. But that can be fixed retrospectively, unlike the investigation.’