‘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.
61
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.’
62
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.