Six Four (55 page)

His team were sitting in the guest area when he got back to the office. They were going through some last-minute checks, huddled over photos and a map marked with the route planned for the next day’s inspection.
What do we do if someone turns up with a new cameraman? Do we need a signal for when they need to leave the site where the body was found? Do we have enough spaces for the press during the visit to the Investigative HQ in Central Station? Any more notifications of roadworks scheduled along the commissioner’s route?
With the ease of a seasoned professional, Suwa was relaying a list of points to confirm. Kuramae was scribbling them down as fast as he could, but failing to keep up. Mikumo seemed like an elder sister, providing the relevant details and more whenever one of the men asked her a question.

Mikami felt his tension subside. What he saw before him now was no different to anything he’d seen before, but it felt new and welcoming. At his desk, he ran through the day’s schedule.

It’s really happening
.

Mikami lit a cigarette and closed his eyes. What were Criminal Investigations doing? He didn’t think for a moment they’d get through the day without something happening. Arakida had spread word of what Tokyo intended to do to every detective in the prefecture. He’d put everything in place to transform Prefecture D into another Dallas. What was he planning for his next –
no, his last
– move?

Time moved irritatingly slowly for the rest of the morning. Nobody called, and the reporters were mostly absent. ‘Everything’s good and ready,’ Suwa had said. ‘As long as nothing unexpected happens.’ He hadn’t forgotten to add that final part. Yet the office remained tranquil, and no news came in to suggest anything had happened in Tokyo.

Mikami joined the others when they ordered food for lunch. Gulping down the warm soba noodles, he found himself worrying whether Minako had eaten. What had she been feeling the night before? It was difficult to untangle the threads of the conversation they’d had in bed. It felt as if it might have been a critical juncture; at the same time, it felt as though they’d wandered into some sort of fable-like other world.

I just wonder . . . whether Ayumi just needs somebody else. Someone other than us.

I should have bought a bento and taken it back.
He came seriously to
regret not having done so, with too much time on his hands even as late as the afternoon. No plays from Arakida. No calls from Akama. The calm before the storm, maybe. Perhaps the storm had already passed, the decisive battle won on a scale he wasn’t even aware of.

It was after 2 p.m.
I should go back to Amamiya’s.
Mikami was just getting to his feet when Suwa, who had been checking on the next room, came back in. He looked puzzled.

‘I’m going to take a quick look at the fourth floor.’

‘Why?’

‘One of the
Yomiuri
reporters was trying to get hold of First Division for some stats on breaking and entering . . . he was complaining about the lines being busy.’

‘Investigative Planning?’

‘Right. He thought he’d try out Assistant Chief Mikura’s desk, but again no one answered.’

Under normal circumstances, Mikami wouldn’t have paid it any more attention.

‘Go check it out.’

It didn’t feel right. Having sent Suwa on his way, he pulled over the internal line and pushed the number for Investigative Planning. The line was busy. He tried again, this time opting for Mikura’s desk.
No answer, the same as the
Yomiuri. He kept trying, but the result was the same.

Something’s wrong.

Even if Mikura
was
out of office, a nearby member of staff would surely pick up instead. Mikami took a chance and tried First Division Chief Matsuoka’s number. Nothing. No answer. Taking the next step, he called Director Arakida’s phone. The line rang uselessly. Matsuoka and Arakida, both out of office. Mikami let the ringing continue, ten, fifteen times, but there was no one running to answer it.

Calm down
, he told himself, then tried the number of the assistant chief of Second Division.
I can ask Itokawa
. The two divisions
were next to each other, straddling Forensics. If something major was happening in First Division, he’d notice whether he wanted to or not.

He couldn’t believe it. Itokawa wasn’t answering.
Second Division, too . . .?

Mikami lifted his head.

‘Go check Second Division and Forensics. And the Mobile Investigation Unit.’

Kuramae and Mikumo were on their feet before he finished, forgetting even to salute as they dashed from the room. Mikami’s fingers were unsteady as he dialled Forensics.
Here, too?
Nobody picked up. He flicked through his directory and dialled Mobile Investigation’s main unit. They were located just across from Second Division. The line was busy.

The external line started to ring in front of him. It was Suwa. He sounded out of breath.

‘Something’s definitely up. There’s only one guy up here manning First Division.’

‘One?’

‘A desk worker, youngish. He’s fielding all the calls.’

‘Did you check the detective area?’

‘I did. Completely deserted.’

‘Ask where everyone went.’

‘But . . . he’s busy with the calls.’

‘Wait for a gap, and ask.’

Mikami ended the call and picked up the internal line again. Mobile Investigation, West Dispatch Unit.
No answer
. He had just clucked his tongue in annoyance when someone picked up.

‘Mobile Investigation, West Dispatch.’

Whoever it was was almost shouting. And young.

‘This is Mikami, from Media Relations in headquarters. Is your captain there?’

There was a short pause. ‘I can’t put him on.’

‘Why not?’

‘He’s gone out.’

‘Where to?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know?’

‘Sorry, I’ve got another call—’

The external line was ringing again. Mikami picked up after slamming down the internal line. He heard Mikumo speaking in a subdued voice.

‘There’s no one here except for Satake, from Fingerprinting. He’s on the phone.’

Kuramae was the next to call.

‘Sir . . . Chief Ochiai is the only person in the Second Division office . . . he looks panicked. He’s shouting to someone on the phone, saying all his staff are gone, asking where they went.’

They had all vanished, leaving their career-officer chief by himself.

Abandoning their posts? No, some kind of insurrection.

Mikami shuddered.

Criminal Investigations had disappeared. First and Second Division. Mobile Investigations. Forensics. They had all vanished without trace.

It didn’t seem real.

Mikami charged up the stairwell. He ran into Ishii, who was coming down, on one of the landings.

‘Mikami! Is it true? That no one’s in Second Division?’

Mikami didn’t stop. Bringing up an arm, he knocked Ishii to one side and continued up. He was out of breath as he walked along the fourth-floor corridor. The sound of ringing echoed from each of the division offices. Kuramae and Mikumo were both standing in the corridor, looking anxious; most likely, they’d been shut out. They hurried over as soon as they saw him.

‘Go and check the department garages. I want to know whose cars are here and whose are missing.’

Mikami gave his instructions as he walked by; picking up speed, he pushed open the doors to First Division. Two heads in the whole office. Suwa’s looked around in surprise. He was standing next to the island of desks that made up Investigative Planning but was clearly hesitating, somehow diminished by being in enemy territory. The young desk worker was on the phone. He had another in his right hand; another was off the hook on a desk a little further off.

‘Sorry, the phones haven’t stopped ringing,’ Suwa whispered.

From what he could gather, they were all regular business calls. Mikami nodded, standing in front of the man, where he’d have no choice but to acknowledge his presence. Hashimoto. Mikami knew his surname, but that was all. He failed to conceal
his fright. He looked away, then turned his back.
Hey.
He didn’t respond. Mikami pressed firmly down on the cradle of the phone Hashimoto was using.

‘Huh . . . what the . . .’

Hashimoto wheeled around, eyes wide. Mikami depressed the cradle on the second phone, then brought his head in close.

‘Where is Arakida?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘What about Matsuoka?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘And everyone else?’

‘Out, work . . .’

Another phone started to ring on a nearby desk. Hashimoto made a move to go over, but Mikami side-stepped to block the way.

‘Please move. I can’t do my job with you here.’

‘I don’t think
anyone’s
doing their job. Not Arakida, not any of you.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘Where are they?’

‘I already told you, I don’t know.’

‘Someone must have given you a number to call if something important came in.’

‘No.’

‘You think you can do your job without one?’

‘You don’t need to worry.’

‘Think for a moment. Even minding the office, you’re an accessory to this.’

‘Accessory?’ Hashimoto wailed. ‘If anyone’s an accessory to anything, it’s Admin, and the NPA.’

‘Good. You should be taking out your frustration on
us
. What the hell are you doing taking it to the outside? Criminal Investigations, vacant. You’re turning a blind eye on crime, on murder. You think you’re still officers of the law?’

‘You’re in no position to lecture us.’

‘I need to talk with Arakida. Tell me where he is.’

‘Right, sure.’

When hell freezes over
. It was written on his face. A phone rang on a desk towards the back of the room. This time, Mikami stood aside, letting Hashimoto dash over. He couldn’t afford to waste time wrestling with an underling. He caught Suwa by the shoulder.

‘Stay on him. He’ll let something slip eventually. And call me the moment anyone higher than inspector turns up.’

His mobile started to buzz. Kuramae.

‘I just finished checking the garages. So . . . all the cars from Mobile Investigations are missing, as are most of the enforcement vehicles. The Forensics mini-van is gone, too.’

That much was standard.

‘What about management?’

‘Right . . . uh, hang on.’

Mikumo replaced him on the line.

‘Director Arakida and Chief Adviser Matsuoka’s cars are still here, as is the Mobile Command Centre’s. The same for the chief of Forensics’, and the captain of Mobile Investigations’.’

Which meant they were still inside the headquarters.

‘Hold the line.’

Keeping the phone line open, Mikami stepped out of First Division. He walked the length of the corridor and pushed against the wind to open the steel door leading to the emergency staircase. Directly ahead was the north building, beyond a connecting passageway. Off to the right, the three-storey annexe housing Transport and the red-brown roof of the archive warehouse. Mikami leaned over the guardrail and peered straight down. Two small figures stood in the courtyard outside the garages – Kuramae and Mikumo.

‘What about people?’

He spoke into his mobile; Mikumo’s answer was immediate.

‘We didn’t see anyone in the area.’

There
.

Three heads, closer to the annexe than the garages. Making their way across the courtyard. Carrying something on their shoulders. It looked cylindrical. A carpet? A roll of paper? A large map? They entered a blind spot and disappeared around the back of the building. The route led to a wall. A dead end; there wasn’t anything there. Except . . . an emergency staircase, outside the back of the building. Transport only took up the lower couple of floors. The second floor housed the station’s assembly hall.

Mikami held his mobile to his ear.

‘Mikumo, go back to the office. Act as though nothing’s happening. Tell Kuramae he’s to report in to First Division.’

He called Suwa after hanging up.

‘I’ve sent Kuramae your way. Get him to take over what you’re doing – I want you in the assembly hall.’

‘The assembly hall? You think that’s where—’

‘Yeah, I do.’

Under siege . . .

Mikami thundered down the emergency stairs, the metallic noise of each step reverberating through his skull. Each jolt pulsed up his legs, drumming so hard it felt like he might come apart.

He jogged through the courtyard and entered the annexe via the main entrance. He stopped to listen. Footsteps, coming from above. He took the goods lift to bypass the stairs. He didn’t even have time to catch his breath. The bell rang as the floor indicator switched to ‘2’. The doors opened to the double doors of the assembly hall, a large notice reading
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
, and two men, both of whom turned to glare in his direction. The one with the beard, fierce-looking with goggle eyes, was Section Chief Ashida from Organized Crime. The other, Mikami had never seen before; younger, with a crew-cut and an abnormally large upper body. He was getting ready to salute when Ashida said something, halting him midway.

Bingo.

Certain he’d found the right place, Mikami started to walk, maintaining eye contact with the two guards. Ashida took a lazy step forwards to head him off. His scowl deepened as the distance between them continued to close; finally, he raised both hands in a
stop
gesture.