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

the members of the media for gathering here today,” he began. “On the evening of March twenty-fourth, under unexpected circumstances, Kyosuke Shiroyama, the president and CEO of our company, was abducted from outside of his home and held in confinement by unknown persons, but fortunately today we received word from the police early this morning that Shiroyama was unharmed and had been taken into protective custody in Yamanashi Prefecture. At this time, words cannot express our deepest apologies for the grave concern we have caused our shareholders, our clients and customers, and of course the public as well. To be embroiled in such a bewildering incident, as a company we feel nothing but confusion and embarrassment, but we are hoping for swift progress with the investigation and that the perpetrators will be soon be apprehended.”

That the apology was addressed to their shareholders briefly caught Negoro’s attention, but it was nothing new for this type of press conference. He returned to the draft, adding and pulling out quotes from other industry figures, hastily arranging the character of Kyosuke Shiroyama, president of Hinode Beer, in fifty lines. All the while, voices continued to fly around him, the murmuring tide of reporters looking for comments over the phone ebbed and flowed, and the direct line to the kisha club never stopped ringing. Once the news embargo ended, there had been a constant stream of calls, not only from the reporters at the kisha club but also from those who had fanned out to cover the areas surrounding the incident. What was more, there were related op-ed pieces to tweak before they went to print, articles that came back needing to be proofread, and finally the growing stack of drafts whose usefulness had yet to be determined, and under the mounting pressure Negoro’s hands were moving incessantly. Though he was far from catching up, owing to long years of conditioning his mind managed to focus on each story as much as possible, organizing and grasping the crucial points. Was there a sure way to locate the heart of the matter, which may or may not even have existed somewhere in all this? Negoro didn’t have much confidence.

“The lead on the extortionists doesn’t seem to be turning up anything,” muttered the junior reserve reporter sitting nearby. He held a cigarette in one hand and a paper coffee cup in the other.

Negoro brushed off the ash that had fallen right in front of him as he asked, “Says who?”

“The slot editor said so on the phone with the kisha club.”

Amid the continuous ringing of the phone, someone yelled out, “I got the location! It’s in Jukai, along the prefectural highway between Narusawa and Fujinomiya!”

Immediately, Tanaba began to shout, “Get a map! How far is it from the bypass? You have the location of the on-scene investigation team?”

More reports followed in quick succession. “Call from the club! The on-site team is at a resort. One of two properties located inside Jukai . . .”

“A correction from the Communications Bureau. The first character in the last name of the staff member from the fire station—they had it wrong.”

“Layout! Hold off on the Metro page!” Tabe bellowed.

“Five more minutes!” came the reply from the layout desk. “Tabe-san, for Metro’s headline, we’re going for a horizontal, corporate terrorism bares its teeth. Keep the front-page headline as is!”

In the midst of the hustle and bustle, the rim editor suddenly let out a sound and rushed toward the television, just as the screen switched over to an image of the president’s family standing outside the front door of their home in Sanno Ni-chome. “Better get this down!” Several reporters pulled out notepads and ballpoint pens.

The young man leaning away from the onslaught of cameras and microphones looked nervous and confused, with a dash of anger mixed in. “I am Shiroyama’s son. I apologize for the terrible concern this has caused . . . We have received word that our father is safe, and our family is so relieved . . .”

“Okamura! Cut two quotes and insert quotes from the son instead. Layout! Give me five more minutes for Metro. Negoro, the profile!”

On the television above his head, there was a cacophony of voices. “What word would you use to describe what your family went through during these fifty-six hours?” “There has been an uptick in attacks targeting corporate executives, but has the president ever spoken to your family about such matters?” “What were you doing when you found out that he was unharmed and had been taken into protective custody?” “A word about how your mother is doing?”

Negoro’s red pencil moved mechanically back and forth over the page as he quickly counted the lines of the draft, now riddled with red marks indicating deletions, replacements, and corrections. “Give this to the slot.” He handed the document to the reporter behind him, then looked back at the television screen and gazed upon the face of Shiroyama’s son.

“I, uh, I don’t . . .” The son had reluctantly started speaking, and for a brief second, Negoro saw his temple quiver as he glared sharply at the press corps.

“I don’t want to disturb our neighbors any further, so please, if we could be excused for now . . .” With those words, just as his mouth twisted in a grimace, and perhaps to hide his expression, the son bent forward at a forty-five degree angle and bowed.

合田雄一郎　Yuichiro Goda

The morning sunlight streaming through the train window fell across Goda’s back. Having left Investigation Headquarters behind, the scent of the case quickly receded, and the only thing that lingered was an uncomfortable drowsiness.

“The president should arrive at Omori just after 10:30. I bet it’ll be on TV,” Goda said.

“What will?” asked the inspector from Crime Prevention who was with him.

“They’ll show the face of Hinode Beer’s president,” Goda clarified.

“What about his face?”

“I just want to see his face in its natural state.”

“Why?”

Goda was at somewhat of a loss to explain why. With each passing hour, the victim’s