Six Four (70 page)

Shoplifting. Arrested. A lost phone.
Mikami let out a deep exhalation. The truth had revealed itself, like the inside of a cross-sectioned watermelon. Not a hoax. Not a kidnapping. Just a plan to obtain the ransom, hatched in the wake of Kasumi’s disappearance.

The ‘kidnapper’ had played off the fact that Kasumi hardly ever showed up at home. He had stolen her phone, made the calls
demanding the ransom, convinced her parents that he’d abducted her. All the while, he’d been following Kasumi around. If she reported her lost property to a
koban
. . . If she went home . . . In either case, he’d have had to call off his plan. That was why he’d had to stick around the busy areas near the main station – because he’d been following her from one place to the next. Then, earlier this morning, his fears had come true, unexpectedly so. Kasumi had been stealing from an outlet store in Asahimachi. He’d seen her do it, realized the staff would probably pick up on what she was doing. That was why he’d tried to bring the schedule forwards. He’d rushed into the store toilets and, having checked that no one was coming or going, had sucked in some of the helium already concealed in his bag and made the call to Mesaki’s home phone. Deciding it was all or nothing, he’d set his ransom plan in motion. As he’d feared, Kasumi had been caught shoplifting. She’d probably been escorted to a back office. Seeing this, the kidnapper had told Mesaki to take a shortcut. He’d sent Mesaki from the ring road to the state road, abandoning his intention to trace the whole Six Four route starting from the Aoi Café. Following the initial change in plan, he would have given the remaining instructions from his car in the store’s parking area. That explained the disappearance of the echo. It had to be from the car, to ensure no one overheard his helium-altered voice. And there was another reason why he’d had to wait in the parking area . . .

He’d been keeping watch on the store entrance. If the store reported Kasumi’s theft, the police would arrive. Trying to calm himself, he’d placed all his hopes on Kasumi’s will to fight. She was a delinquent who hardly ever went home. She wouldn’t just admit to having done it. She’d play dumb, lie, burst into tears. Even with the goods held out before her, she’d insist she planned to buy them, that she’d forgotten to go to the counter. They wouldn’t learn her identity if she chose not to tell them. Her phone, with all her personal information, had been stolen. And
she wasn’t the type to walk around with a school ID card. The kidnapper had been staring at the store entrance, hoping, all the time he had been giving Mesaki instructions on the phone. Kasumi had, in fact, put up a struggle. She’d secured enough time for Mesaki to travel ten kilometres.

Eventually, however, a uniformed officer from a nearby
koban
had shown up at the store. Even then the kidnapper had refused to give up hope. The store had probably only reported it because Kasumi had refused point-blank to give them her name. And it was only a shoplifting; the police wouldn’t waste much effort investigating it. Her identity would come out, it was only a matter of time, but – Mikami thought of the command vehicle’s own embargo – there was always an administrative lag in information like that percolating out to the necessary places. The kidnapper had entrusted everything to that one hope. Hoping to end everything while the time lag was still in play, he’d decided to go through with the plan. That explained why he was urging Mesaki to hurry. The final handover point had to be close. But . . .

It was already over.

Fair enough, he hadn’t kidnapped or killed anyone, but he’d caused far too much distress and frenzy.

‘Mobile Command, this is Pursuit 1. Mesaki has passed the Ishida-cho intersection. Approaching Café Cherry in five hundred metres.’

Mikami flipped open his phone. He was about to press Suwa’s speed dial when a voice stopped him. It was Matsuoka. He was glaring right at him.

‘Who are you calling?’

‘I need to call off the coverage agreement.’

‘Remember the condition.’

‘I don’t think it applies any more . . .’

‘Uh-huh, and is that something you decide?’

‘The case is over.’

‘Not yet.’

Maybe he meant the investigation. It was true, but it was Matsuoka who had told Mikami to do his job when he’d joined them in the command vehicle.

Mikami got to his feet.

‘This is a matter of good faith. The coverage agreement was put in place to protect someone in potential jeopardy. I can’t prolong it for the sake of the investigation.’

‘I’d agree with you if Kasumi had turned up dead. But she’s safe – waiting twenty minutes to tell that to the press won’t change a thing. It’s not going to make a corpse of her.’

Mikami couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Had Matsuoka really just said that?

The screeching of brakes echoed through the hold. The sound had come through the wall-mounted speakers.

– I’m here. Cherry Café. That was the place? What should I do now? Do you want me inside . . .?

– Pull . . . out again.

– What?

– Pull out . . . unless you want your daughter to die.

– Ahhhhhh!

‘What about the girl’s parents?’ Mikami pointed at one of the speakers. ‘Are you telling me they need to wait twenty minutes, too?’

‘It’s too early to let them celebrate.’

‘Sorry?’

‘The girl who stole the cosmetic products only
said
her name was Kasumi Mesaki. That’s all we know. We don’t have confirmation it’s actually her.’

‘Does that really matter?’

‘Mobile Command, this is Pursuit 1. Mesaki’s picking up speed. He’s going way too fast.’

Mikami looked at Ogata. He looked at Minegishi.

‘What, are you two planning to stand by, too? What if he crashes? Weren’t you worried about that happening just now?’

Neither would meet Mikami’s gaze. At the same time, neither looked particularly guilty.

‘I see. You were talking about him as
bait
, right? You didn’t want to loose the
bait
. Not before you’d hooked the bastard kidnapper.’

–
Wh— . . . where next?

– Doesn’t matter . . . just hurry.

‘You fucking idiots. You’re still waiting for someone to take a good bite? The investigation’s not going to come to a standstill if the
bait
twitches for a second. Just bring that helium-infused fucker in first. You don’t have to worry about the girl being killed any more. What happened to the intercept car we left at the driving school? Dispatch it to the outlet store! The guy’s in a car. He’s got his hand on his throat. He’s talking on a mobile. Swat him down and get him to spit out the location of his accomplice!’

– Please, just tell me! Where do you want me to go . . .?

– Go straight . . . three . . . kilometres.

– Go straight?

– Ahead . . . there’s a hairdresser’s up ahead . . . the Ai’ai Hair Salon. Get there in ten minutes or . . . your daughter’s dead.

– B— . . . but . . .

‘Call Kitou right now. Tell him Kasumi’s safe. Put a bloody end to the man’s torture – stop wasting time!’

‘Incoming call to Mesaki’s phone. Routed to call waiting. The caller is . . .’ Burly’s voice grew louder. ‘. . . it’s Mesaki’s wife. Mutsuko. Her mobile. Patching it through now.’

Finally.
Mikami made a fist in front of his chest.
Of course . . . of course.
Mutsuko was phoning to let Mesaki know. To tell him Kasumi was safe.

The phone was still ringing.

He wasn’t switching calls. Why wasn’t he switching calls?

Mikami breathed in sharply.

Of course he wasn’t. He was still on the line with the kidnapper. He couldn’t leave the call, not for a split second. It was
obvious. The kidnapper had anticipated this. That was why he’d stayed on the phone – to prevent Mesaki from talking to his wife.

Mikami gritted his back teeth. His arm extended forwards, picked up one of the mobiles.
Kitou
. He accessed the call history and dialled the last number. He held the phone to his ear . . .

Someone grabbed his wrist. Matsuoka’s face came up to fill his vision. His eyes were burning, stretched wide open, the eyebrows terrifying arched ridges.

Matsuoka had rendered him unable to move.

He had to say it.
Say it!

‘The investigation is a sham – this is heresy!’

‘Do
not
interfere.’

‘Mobile Command, this is Pursuit 1. Mesaki has taken a right. Repeat, a right at the Usami crossroads.’

An incredible force weighed down on Mikami’s arm. He tried to fight but it was no good.
Hello? Hello? This is Kitou.
The voice grew distant as his arm was pressed down on to his leg. Ogata prised open his fingers. Minegishi reclaimed the phone. Mikami felt humiliated. Powerless. He collapsed on to his knees.

‘Don’t you understand?’ The shout came from his heart. ‘How long every moment feels when your daughter’s missing? Every second, every single minute . . . You’re desperate for her to come back. You need to see her face. To hold her in your arms . . . as soon as you possibly can. Don’t you understand? How can you call yourselves detectives if you don’t get that?’

The engine was the only sound.

The four monitors showed midwinter fields, reddish brown, a section of residential homes with striking cobalt roofs.

Matsuoka swung his head upwards. He stayed like that for a while before looking down again. His eyes briefly caught Mikami’s. Then he turned away, plunging his hands into his pockets.

‘This isn’t an investigation into a faked kidnapping.’

What?

Matsuoka started to pull his hands out, then sunk them back into his pockets. Even deeper this time.

‘It all started with information we got from you. Right here: this is the command hub of the Six Four investigation.’

Mikami felt as though someone had draped him in a large, soft sheet.

His world was spinning. He was stunned, but he didn’t understand why.

The Six Four investigation . . .? Information from you . . .?

Something was vibrating on his shoes. His open phone was edging over his feet, faintly buzzing. Right. After he’d called Suwa, he’d tried to call . . .

Getting to his feet, he took up the phone, hearing the man’s voice as he held it to his ear.

‘Sorry you had to call so many times . . .’

It was Mochizuki.

‘. . . is something going on?’

‘Why?’

‘Last night, I had a call from Matsuoka. He wanted to know if I’d had any silent calls recently. I was a little bewildered, so I just said I hadn’t and ended the call. But, you know, something like that . . . it makes you think. A direct call from Chief Adviser Matsuoka. Do you have any idea what he might have been calling about?’

No
.

None at all.

Mikami ended the call and collapsed on to one of the stools.

In that instant, the large, soft sheet seemed to slip away, crumpling at his feet before it vanished completely.

He’d woken up.

He could see something . . .

Information from you
. That was it. When he’d visited Matsuoka’s home, he’d talked about the silent calls with his wife. He’d found out afterwards that their family home had also received a silent
call. As had Mizuki Murakushi. Concerned about Minako, Mizuki had spoken with Matsuoka’s wife, Ikue, on the phone, and that was when they’d remembered that Mikumo’s family home had had a silent call, too. All of the calls had been recent. And Minako had been obsessive about noting the dates, so they would have had a timeline. Matsuoka’s family home. Mikami’s home. Mikumo’s family home. Mizuki’s apartment. The calls had come in in that order. Mikami knew of more still. Mesaki had received a number of calls before the kidnapping. Mikami supposed the call left on Ryoji Meikawa’s answer machine had been the same.

Everything seemed to fall into place. As he recited the names, they came together in a line. Like watching planets come into alignment.

Ma, Mi, Mu, Me, Me . . .

It was the ‘M’ row of the Japanese syllabary. Only the last of the syllables was missing –
Mo
.

Mikami raised his head. He looked at Minegishi.

‘Your parents, your relatives, did they receive any silent calls?’

Minegishi’s eyes conveyed the answer.
Yes.

Mikami turned to Burly.

‘And you? What’s your family name?’

‘Shi . . . Shiratori.’

Mikami couldn’t help but chuckle. But the reaction was only surface deep. He forced it down and turned to Pencil-face.

‘And yours?’

‘Morita.’

‘Did you receive any silent calls?’

‘No.’

‘Did Matsuoka call you to confirm that?’

‘I can’t . . .’

‘Yes. I did,’ Matsuoka answered. As though to stop the questions, to put an end to the torment.

Mikami saw a single, blackened finger.

Ahh—

It hadn’t been Ayumi, after all . . .

He saw everything, the moment he accepted that one fact. He’d fought the truth for so long. The clarity brought with it an immeasurable feeling of loss. He held his hands to his face, balling them into fists. He pressed them hard into his forehead.

It was right there . . .

He saw it now . . .

It was beyond belief. Incredible. 580,000 households. 1.82 million people. And he’d done it all alone. One man, behind all the silent calls. He’d started with ‘A’, and it was only now, after all this time, that he’d finally reached ‘M’.

When must he have started? Three, five years ago? Further back still? Every day and all day – morning, noon and night – his fingers had paged through the phone directory, drummed the buttons on his phone. Even after his index finger had swollen and blackened into a blister, even after the skin and nail had cracked, he’d been relentless in striking the buttons.