Six Four

by Hideo Yokoyama

  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.’

  74

  ‘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.

  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 inte
rsection. 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.’