He was on his way to visit Mochizuki, an old contemporary of his. Mochizuki had been part of the Close Pursuit Unit, as had Mikami himself, and had driven the second car during Six Four’s initial investigation. Afterwards, he had remained part of the Investigative HQ, working on the case as part of the team looking into suspects who had debts. When his father collapsed, three years ago, he had retired from the force and returned home to take over the family horticultural business. As was common with the regional police, his official record cited ‘personal reasons’. While his retirement did not free him of his oath to confidentiality, he was likely to talk more freely than someone still in the force.
Mikami felt vaguely anxious. Perhaps it was Shoko’s name; it had cropped up so many times when he was reading through the press cuttings in the office. And even without that, there were too many things that acted as reminders of Six Four in the area. He was approaching the Aoi-machi junction. His eyes drifted naturally to the blue billboard next to the bookstore. The Aoi Café. It looked the same as it had fourteen years earlier. It had been the first stop in the pursuit of Amamiya’s car during the ransom handover.
January the 5th. The Amamiya household.
Mikami had spent the night unable to sleep. It was after 4 p.m. on the following day that the kidnapper’s third call had finally come in. The police had been caught off guard: instead of Amamiya’s home, the call had come in to the office next to the pickle factory. Having slipped through the net, bypassing the tracking and recording apparatus, the kidnapper had introduced himself as ‘Sato’ and asked to speak to the company president. Knowing he was at home all day, the female receptionist had simply told him he was out for the day. The kidnapper had asked her to give him a message. That he would collect the ransom at the Aoi Café in Aoi-machi. He would be there at four thirty.
The caller’s voice had matched the description of the voice Amamiya had heard the previous day. A man in his thirties or forties, slightly hoarse, with no trace of an accent. Because she had happened to answer the call that day, Motoko Yoshida, Amamiya’s thirty-two-year-old receptionist, had later ended up having to listen to the voices of hundreds of suspects.
Having no idea what was happening, Motoko had called the company president at home to relay the kidnapper’s message. Shoko’s parents, and the investigators with them, fell into a state of panic. They had less than twenty minutes until the designated time. They had already prepared a large suitcase and 20 million in cash. To track it, they had concealed a micro-transmitter inside. They had also fitted a pin-size microphone under the collar of Amamiya’s jacket, and had finished briefing him to repeat whatever the kidnapper said on the phone. But they didn’t have enough time. Even going as fast as they could, they knew it would take at least thirty minutes by car from Amamiya’s house to the café.
Amamiya had staggered out of the house, rammed the suitcase into his Cedric and left for the city at a breakneck speed. Katsutoshi Matsuoka, the chief of the Pursuit Unit, had hidden in the back of the vehicle under a blanket between the front and back seats, prepared for whatever might happen.
The four remaining members of the Pursuit Unit split up into two cars and tailed the Cedric, each keeping a distance of around ten metres. Mikami had been in the passenger seat of Pursuit 1. The signal from the pin-sized microphone in Amamiya’s jacket had been weak, transmission limited to a few dozen metres in a built-up area. Mikami’s job had been to stay close and listen in to the kidnapper’s instructions, as repeated by Amamiya, and relay the details to the Investigative HQ through the wireless set installed in his car.
They had arrived at the Aoi Café just six minutes late, at 4.36. Amamiya had charged inside. The owner had been scanning the customers, holding a pink phone in his hand and calling Amamiya’s name. It’s for me! His voice was tight as he snatched the receiver. Minako had been there, too, seated at the window just metres away, paired with a detective. A few of the female officers, who had left work to marry within the force, had been summoned to assist with the investigation as part of the Undercover Unit, each masquerading as one half of a couple. Minako had been in a conference room inside the Prefectural HQ since first light that morning. When word had come in detailing the location of the exchange, she had rushed out of the station with the detective posing as her husband. They had installed themselves there just minutes before Amamiya’s arrival. In the end, he’d been in the corner of her eye for under ten seconds. The moment he’d hung up, Amamiya had sped back out of the café.
As expected, the kidnapper had led Amamiya from one place to another. He told Amamiya a succession of times and places designed to keep him on the road. At first the kidnapper instructed him to take the state road north. Four Seasons Fruits. Atari Mahjong. With the next destination – the Cherry Café – Amamiya crossed into the municipal district of Yasugi. From there he took a right one kilometre on at a set of lights and followed the city road to the Ai’ai Hair Salon. After this, he’d taken a left to join the prefectural highway and continue north.
After leaving Yasugi, he’d entered the rural district of Ozatomura, only to stop soon afterwards at the vegetable wholesaler Furusato Foods. Then, after another five kilometres, the Ozato Grill. Miyasaka Folding Crafts.
By that point, they were already deep in the mountains. Amamiya kept driving, tracing the Futago river as it wound up a steep road, almost too narrow for cars to overtake. It was getting close to dusk. It was already after six. That was when the instruction came in for Pursuit 2, the second car in the Close Pursuit Unit, to break off its chase. The same instruction was relayed to a further five cars from the Intercept Unit, which had joined at various points along the state road and the prefectural highway.
At that point, nobody had known if Shoko was still alive, or if the kidnapper was working alone or as part of a group. They couldn’t risk the kidnapper seeing a chain of seven or eight cars on a mountain road usually empty of traffic. Pursuit 1, with Mikami on the wireless, was the sole vehicle left to follow Amamiya’s Cedric. It hung back, opening up the space between them; Mikami pushed his seat all the way down to conceal himself from the outside.
They followed the uneven road for a long time. The last place the kidnapper named was the Ikkyu, a fishing lodge close to the Neyuki mountain, which lay on the border of the prefecture. Amamiya had been at the end of his tether. His feet were unsteady as he approached the phone in the lodge. The kidnapper issued more instructions into the man’s ear.
You crossed a bridge half a kilometre back. One of the lights there has a plastic cord on it. Throw the suitcase into the river from there. Do it in five minutes if you value your daughter’s life.