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.