Lady Joker, Volume 1 Kaoru Takamura (ereader ebook .TXT) 📖

all the materials from the archives” and “We sent you the articles related to Hinode that we pulled from our database”—and haranguing them for a story: “Did you get anything?” and “Any movement?”

In due time, Chief Sugano finished his phone call. “Listen, everyone.” His voice carried through the entire nook, and Kubo and the rest of the reporters pricked up their ears at once. “We’ll prepare two advance articles: one in the event that the president is safely rescued, and the other in the event that things take a turn for the worse. If a criminal profile or motive is not clear at the point when the president is in protective custody, the first draft will cover everything chronologically from abduction to rescue, and then let’s plan on steadily spotlighting the unresolved issues, one by one. First and foremost, I want it made clear that this is a heinous crime. Your team can handle that, Kubo.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Maki, Kanai, and Momoi will track the movements of the extortionists and the ultranationalists. Tazawa and Ogawa will focus on any issues related to roadblocks and checkpoints, and also check whether any of the vehicles come from a car rental company. The beat reporters will work in three shifts, and take turns staking out Hinode’s main office, their Tokyo branch, and the Hinode Club until the embargo is lifted. Observe the comings and goings of the executives and any unmarked cars. I’m sure Hinode will put up a formidable defense—they’ll have strong corporate security and protection in place—so don’t overdo it. Kagawa, you make the assignment chart for the beat reporters.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Once the chart is worked up I need the beat reporters to go out to their assigned posts. Everyone, make sure you look over the materials on Hinode. Finally, this case may take a while to crack, so we need all hands on deck. That’s all from me.”

Sugano always gave such specific instructions, and as far as Kubo knew, he had never erred in his judgment.

And Sugano, who took out his comb again, held in his arsenal a vast network of sources the likes of which Kubo could only dream about. Whenever Kubo marveled at the technique, time, and toil that must have been required for Sugano to build such a tremendous wealth of information—which awed one and all alike—a tangle of jealousy and suspicion came over him, and he was forced to question his own capabilities as a journalist.

Even now, as he repeated Sugano’s speech in his mind, Kubo imagined that, ultimately, MPD’s Public Security Bureau would be moving with a suspicious eye on the actions of ultranationalist groups embroiled in underground banking, and Sugano himself must have information on the bureau within his grasp. If ultranationalist groups were involved, there would be politicians on the outside, with crime syndicates and extortionists underneath. Kubo quickly ran through his own dossier of sources, but he could not come up with a single person who might provide the kernel of a story from that angle.

As Kubo thought all this through, a can of oolong tea appeared before him.

“Have some Hinode Oolong Tea,” Kuriyama spoke up beside him.

Kubo pondered it for another two seconds before noticing with surprise the moon cake in his left hand. He had apparently been eating the round pastry without even realizing it—all that remained now was a crescent moon. He must have found it on his desk, but he could not remember picking it up. He had no memory of his stomach conveying hunger. Resigned to sabotaging his earlier efforts at healthy eating—he had made do with a small meal of simmered fish at lunch—he washed down the rest of the moon cake with the oolong tea and hurriedly turned on his computer. Kuriyama immediately handed him a memo from the press conference.

“Here’s a rundown of the first briefing. From the chief’s notes,” he said.

Solicitous and with a breezy air about him, Kuriyama was thirty years old and still in his first year on the First Investigation beat. With his lustrous complexion and bright smile, he was a model of that new type of investigative reporter who proved that even the so-called “penal servitude” of the MPD track could be handled with ease with the right attitude and a certain knack. What’s more, Kuriyama had a fair number of sources and wrote good articles, and even if Kubo thought that the diligence of his reporting left something to be desired, it still fell within a tolerable range. As he thanked Kuriyama for the memo, Kubo realized he was measuring himself against one of his colleagues yet again.

The subject matter of the first press conference, held at 12:15 a.m., was as follows:

Kyosuke Shiroyama (58), residing at 2-16 Sanno / 22:05: Returns home in company car. Driver Tatsuo Yamazaki (60), residing at 2-13 Zoshigaya / Yamazaki departs after watching Shiroyama go through the front gate / 22:50: Police receive 110 emergency call—husband hasn’t come home / 23:16: Confirmed as incident. Victim taken hostage and abducted between front gate and front door / Note found in shrubs by path to front door. Balled up letter. White paper. Handwritten. Katakana letters: “We have your president” / Deemed abduction and unlawful confinement / Details unknown / Next briefing, 2 a.m.

“They say the CI director’s hands were trembling,” Kuriyama said.

“Really?”

“And a little while ago Hiroda-san from Criminal Administration was screaming his head off.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Kubo could not imagine what Hiroda—a mild-mannered man who had managed to remain calm even when he learned of the poison gas terror attack the other day—might have sounded like earlier. Kubo glared at the memo again and after checking the time—1:25 a.m.—he started writing down questions in preparation for the second press conference that would take place in thirty-five minutes.

Had the president taken his usual route home? Exactly how far past the gate had the driver seen him go? Had anyone at home heard anything? Why had it taken his family forty-five minutes to call the police? How were the family members