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Satou Miwako stared at her phone. A guy who identified himself as Kazami from PSB had asked her—demanded more like—that she meet him before reporting back to anyone about Ran-san’s statement.
With an annoyed flick of her wrist, she dropped the phone back into her purse.
Why would the PSB involve itself with this case?
She started to walk to her car, her usually brisk steps slow.
They had no interest in cases of this kind—as long as there weren’t politicians or terrorists involved, kidnapping wasn’t on their radar. Even if you suspected the Yakuza was involved, it only went to a special group in Division One. So, what in Ran-san’s statement brought along the order to keep it a secret?
And how did they know about it? It’s only been five minutes since she left the hospital room.
Miwako assembled the facts in her mind once again:
It had been a plot to draw out Kudo Shinichi.
She turned right along the long line of cars on the park deck.
Ran-san was just unlucky that people thought of her as Kudo Shinichi’s girlfriend. She scowled.
Why did they, actually? They were childhood friends, sure, but… Sera had acted more like Ran-san was her girlfriend just today than Kudo had in the last two years. She would have to ask Megure-keibu about that.
On the other hand, Ran-san had been ashamed when she told them she went to follow the mysterious text. So she was jealous?
Her steps picked up, her heels clacking an angry rhythm on the concrete.
She reached her car just as she came to Ran’s second to last statement.
“Gin told me to get Kudo Shinichi. Three days until his ultimatum runs out now.“ she had quoted the perp.
“I don’t even know who that is?!?” Ran had thrown at him. And the guy had laughed at her.
She slammed the door and revved the car up unnecessarily, before she tore down the ramp at a much too fast pace.
Even if they got this perp, someone else was after Kudo. Would they try to make her bait again?
She stopped with screeching brakes and impatiently waved her police badge at the guy who controlled the barrier.
A few turns brought her up onto Tokyo Freeway and she let the car out, waving between right and left lane.
==b==
“Don’t bother trying to pull her over,” Yumi, was helping out on traffic control in Ginza for the day. “You might be able to catch her on your bike, Hagiwara-san, but not in a car.”
Hagiwara had hurt her elbow taking down a purse-snatching biker two weeks ago. She was grounded from biking until it healed.
“Who is that?”
“Satou-keiji. She had to take Ran-san’s statement today.” Yumi looked grim.
“Needs to let off steam then.” Hagiwara nodded thoughtfully. “What about that boy that is always around her? Do we have to look out for him doing something stupid again?”
“I think Takagi has been assigned to keep an eye on him.”
“Hope that’s enough.”
==b==
Again and again, Miwako let the few sentences Ran-san had said on the subject replay in her head, her driving automatic.
There was nothing she could gain; Ran didn’t have a clue about this. Wait…
There had been something strange just after she mentioned that name. Gin. What was it? Ran had paused, she had trailed off so often it hadn’t registered before. But this time, she had stopped short. As if something alerted her. Alerted to what?
Getting to her exit, Satou slowed down hard and stopped before the traffic light.
Her mind wandered through the whole hospital room. And then she caught it. Sera had looked utterly horrified for a split-second, masking her reaction immediately. So SHE knew who Gin was.
She had looked ready to kill most of the time, if you knew how to look for the signs. Sera was good at masking her emotions.
Satou knew that if she got the perp that did this to Ran-san, she herself would have trouble keeping it professional. The young detective shouldn’t be allowed to work on this case. It looked like she thought her time better spend in looking after Ran-san, so that was a relief.
But… Horrified.
What could be more horrifying to her than Ran’s torture? One name. Gin. That didn’t make much sense, did it? Was Sera connected to the PSB?
The PSB. Shit, this sounded HUGE.
==b==
“Please wait here.” The uniformed officer showed her into a room. “Do not contact anyone until you talked to K.” His hand moved over the sergeant’s stripes of his uniform in a cutting motion.
The room matched the unvoiced threat to her position: a table, two chairs, no window and one ‘mirror’ just opposite her seat. Great. Miwako was in no mood for this shit. So Kudo got in over his head and was in witness protection or what? But how had he managed to contact them then?
10 minutes. If they took much longer, Megure-keibu would ask again why she hadn’t reported back yet.
The man who walked in without knocking wore a green suit. Glasses, short brown hair, a bit above medium height. The glasses were the most remarkable thing about him, and that wasn’t saying a lot.
“We could identify the car you were looking for,” he said without any preamble, “and identified the owner.” He put down three things on the table and took a step back, hovering between her and the ‘mirror’.
A photograph of a car with a missing hubcap, the number a bit too clear to read. The traffic control report on the car’s owner. An address in Ota City—near the city incineration plant, she realized after a moment.
Her name was filled in the box of who requested the report.
Miwako felt cold. How could they know all this already, just an hour after Ran told her about the car with the missing hub cab? Had they known who the perp was all along?
Her icy stare didn’t faze the man standing before her. But he shook his head minutely, as if he had heard her questions.
A handwritten note was the last sheet on the table:
Keep the fact this was a hit gone wrong
and THE CUSTOMER out of ALL files!
Do not mention me to anyone.
Lives are on the line.
Miwako grabbed the photo to study it and give herself some time to think. Before she thought of anything to say, the door bust open again. The uniformed sergeant from before:
“Your perp’s home address is on fire!” he shouted.
Miwako jumped up. The man that was probably Kazami grabbed the stuff from the table, handing her the report while palming the note.
“Proceed to the address.” He ran out, Miwako following.
From her car, she phoned Megure-keibu. “Identified the holder of the car Ran-san was abducted with. His place seems to be on fire. Proceeding to the address.” She rattled it off without taking a breath, ending the call before her boss could get a word in. He would be furious.
==b==
Gin watched the TV report in foreboding silence. A group of police detectives were conferring in front of the smoking ruins of a small two-story warehouse surrounded by firefighters.
“The police haven’t issued an official statement yet,” Kir’s voice came slightly distorted from his mobile. She coughed and a cut in sound indicated she must have cursed the smoke and been censored by her station. Unusual for her, he noted absently. “The police came to this building to speak to the owner. Rumor has it a bomb went off when an officer knocked.”
Someone from outside the camera’s sight passed her a paper. She glanced at it; her eyes widened. “It seems like the owner confessed to the abduction of Mouri Ran on social media. Nichiuri TV will check…”
Gin’s hand went to his gun and Vodka beside him sat up and turned the ignition key.
“Relax,” Vermouth drawled from the back seat. “Bourbon planted evidence he’d had a crush on that one starlet Kudo sent to prison. The one who was denied parole a few weeks ago because she always gets into fights.”
Gin slowly turned to look at her. Her eyes were cold.
How the hell had she known…?
“Bugged registration inquiries. Your number comes up in connection with a high-profile case, I take immediate action.” She smiled—if a rattlesnake could smile. “The boss wants us out of the media.”
“Why did you think I would be interested?” He tried to stare her down. She stared right back.
How he hated that woman.
“Though you could order a hit without anyone knowing?” She took out her cigarette case with one hand and flipped it open.
The snap startled Vodka who seemed to stared out of the windscreen, both hands on the wheel. He sent Gin a fleeting look, his eyes signaling Vermouth had backup.
Vermouth ignored him, her eyes never leaving Gin’s.
“I don’t like cleaning up you messes, Gin.” Languidly, she took out a cigarette and put it between her lips. Took it out again.
“You should have taken him down when he posted the first video.”
Gin shrugged. “I thought it would clear up the question if that guy was still around once and for all. Damage was already done.“ His stare intensified, few people looked him in the eyes for long. “Told me he planned that rescue and was watching the hospital. He still had a day.”
Vermouth laughed. “Looks like he planted that bomb in his home for you then.” She pursed her lips, put the cigarette in again. Gin didn’t move.
She raised an eyebrow. After 30 seconds, Vermouth took out a box of matches, and lit her cigarette. The first deep inhale was followed by a pointed exhale, directly into Gin’s face.
He coughed, blinking against the smoke’s burn.
She smirked.
“Until next time, Gin.” The door closed behind her with barely a sound. The match smoldered on the foot mat, leaving an acrid stink behind.