Ogata nodded, this time using a radio to relay the instructions to the driver.
The command vehicle was going to City D? Was the lead commander, the head of the army, really planning to leave Genbu? Genbu was where Mesaki’s home was. It was also where the kidnapper’s calls had originated – from the east and west sides of the main station. The east stood out, with its hostess bars, sex shops, love hotels, gaming centres. Wasn’t that exactly the kind of place a kidnapper might use as a base of operations?
Something about that thought snagged. Of course. Lowlifes weren’t the only kind of people who liked to hang out in the red-light districts. Out-of-control teenagers did, too, whatever their gender. What had happened to the idea of a hoax? Mikami’s unexpected ticket into the investigation’s central hub had, combined with the fact that no one had mentioned the possibility since, caused it to slip his mind completely.
But . . .
Mikami checked the clock. Two and a half minutes left. Matsuoka had leaned back from the screens and was watching the front monitor with a look that suggested the hunt was about to begin.
‘Sir.’
‘Uh-huh. What is it?’
‘Have you begun the search for Kasumi Mesaki?’
Matsuoka looked unhappy with the question, which took Mikami by surprise. Had he offended him? Right. He’d used Kasumi’s name, even though it was yet to be disclosed.
‘Have you dismissed the possibility of this being a hoax?’ Mikami asked, making sure not to repeat the offence.
‘No, definitely not.’
‘Are you searching the red-light district?’
‘We’re in the middle of a kidnapping; we can’t do anything that might get us seen.’
Coming from Matsuoka, the answer sounded evasive. One of the hallmarks of modern policing, for Public Security and Criminal Investigations alike, was the ability to deploy large-scale investigations in the shadows.
‘Do you know where she tended to go?’
‘No.’
‘Both calls originated in commercial districts, areas where lots of people go to hang out. Assuming this isn’t a hoax, isn’t there a strong possibility she’s still in Genbu?’
‘Mikami,’ Ogata said, his eyes warning. Minegishi folded his arms, displeased.
Mikami nodded, but he couldn’t stop the question.
‘Why are we heading for City D?’
‘Focus on your job,’ Matsuoka said wearily. He jerked his chin up towards the clock on the wall.
The second hand was at the top of the dial: 10.58. Mikami was amazed. Was the timing coincidence, or had Matsuoka kept count of the twenty minutes, too?
‘Excuse me.’
Mikami repositioned himself at the rear of the container, stumbling each time the vehicle rocked. Burly’s wide back was in the way. Mikami pulled out his mobile and opened it; he dialled Suwa’s number, crouching forwards to hide some of the background noise.
The phone rang for a long time. When Suwa finally answered, the wave of sound was like a hammer on Mikami’s eardrums. He was transported immediately back to the conference room. The volume was incredible, enough to make him physically recoil. Suwa was all but inaudible, his voice coming only in short bursts. He was making his way through the crowd, heading for the corridor. The line went dead even as Mikami pictured the image. He redialled straight away, but no one answered. He was left with nothing to do but wait for Suwa to call back once he’d found somewhere he could talk.
It was five minutes later when the mobile, gripped tight, started to vibrate.
‘Sorry about that. I had to deal with something.’
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?