Six Four (57 page)

Their identities were being kept anonymous. Mikami felt his cheek twitch.

Mikami checked his watch. Two thirty-five. Already three hours since the kidnapping was reported. Mikami’s eyes bored into the page as he continued.

Mikami was speechless. He was horrified. The similarities to Six Four were unbearable:
midday tomorrow, 20 million yen, Sato, used bills, Marukoshi, the largest suitcase, come alone.
Even the detail of the kidnapper not giving his name during the first call then calling himself Sato was the same.
The voice of a man in his thirties or forties, slightly hoarse, with no trace of an accent.
That was the only difference. No – even that was unclear, because the kidnapper had altered his voice.

The same man . . . a repeat offence. Nothing in the details refuted the possibility. Even so, Mikami had a gut feeling that that wasn’t it. During Six Four, nothing had happened to suggest the kidnapper was doing it out of enjoyment. The crime was desperate, urgent, executed to obtain the large sum of money to be paid out for the ransom. It didn’t make sense that the same person would show off by staging a repeat performance. Even supposing it was him, he would surely have made every effort to strip away any resemblance to Six Four, made sure that there was nothing to suggest a link between the two cases.

Mikami felt like he was coming back up for air.

This wasn’t Showa calling them back. The case belonged to Heisei. It was new, unrelated to Six Four. And the kidnapping had taken place only moments – no, it was already three hours – earlier.

‘You need to make sure the agreement is signed, without delay.’

Mikura’s voice sounded from above, completely lacking any self-awareness.
Without delay
. Mikami looked at him through upturned eyes.

‘How dare you.’

‘Hmm?’

‘It’s been three hours since the kidnapping was reported. After this long, and with a flimsy sheet like this, do you really think they’re going to just smile and play along?’

‘I don’t see why not. Besides, it’s my understanding that a
provisional agreement comes into effect automatically, the moment we notify them of a kidnapping.’

‘That’s right.’ It was a safety measure, to stop the press from taking advantage of the time between notification and the signing of the agreement. ‘But what do you propose if they decide not to sign? If they refuse after having discussed the terms, the provisional agreement ends and they get a free reign on reporting. What you need to understand is that they only agree to our terms because we promise to give them detailed intel from the investigation, and at the earliest opportunity.’

‘And you have it now.’

Mikami struck the papers in his hand. ‘This is barely even an outline. I need all the details covering the last three hours – on the progress of the investigation, and everything you know about the kidnapping. The moment the press hear of this you’ll have hundreds of reporters and camera units charging in from Tokyo. You won’t be able to control them with this kind of attitude.’

‘Well, of course not,’ Mikura answered, sounding offended. ‘If necessary, I am able to supply extra information myself, to the extent of my knowledge.’

‘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.