Status Updates From Six Four

‘Do you understand what you’ve done? A high-school girl is missing. Her parents received calls from someone purporting to be her kidnapper. Yet your mind was on something other than the case. This is a sham. You let an internal struggle influence the investigation of a kidnapping. No – you used the kidnapping . . . as retaliation against Tokyo? As a warning? Insurance? How could you support something

Six Four. They would drag the kidnapper back into the sixty-fourth year of Showa, put him in cuffs. A pledge, unfulfilled even though they were fourteen years into Heisei – now a voice from Showa had emerged to call them back. Sato. 20 million yen.
Was it a copycat? Someone out for a kick? Or was it . . .

If anyone was capable of opening a window to the outside, it was Mikumo. While he’d felt discouraged by her missionary zeal, like sun shining through a biting wind, another part of his mind had caught sight of a fleeting but welcome hope. And not just because she was uncontaminated, or a woman. She had grown wings in the course of a single night, and he’d seen in that a limitless potential.

Menos mal que alguien le ha hecho ver lo machista que está siendo

Koda had been with Violent Crime in First Division when the Six Four kidnapping had occurred, and he’d been one of four officers assigned to the Home Unit stationed in Amamiya’s house during the kidnapping. Something had gone wrong while he was there. Something that had resulted in Amamiya losing confidence in the police. The Koda memo contained the details of what had happened.

On 10 January three days after the police had retrieved the suitcase, Shoko Amamiya’s dead body was found at a car dump in the city’s Satamachi district. A scrap metal merchant had opened the trunk of a rusty sedan after noticing some stray dogs making a noise nearby. The body was in a pitiful state. The girl’s hands had been forced behind her back, tied up with washing line; her mouth and eyes had been covered

The fifth of January, in the sixty-fourth year of the Showa period. I’m going to get my New Year presents. Shoko Amamiya had headed out saying these words a little after midday, only to disappear on her way to the house of a nearby relative. Two hours later, her kidnapper had called the Amamiyas, demanding ransom. The voice of a man in his thirties or forties, slightly hoarse, with no trace of an accent.

The Press Room was a unique environment. As rivals in the same industry, the reporters sought to keep tabs on each other; at the same time, they had the solidarity of co-workers in a single workplace. When they came up against the police, this solidarity could grow into a sense of joint struggle. Sometimes–as they had just now–they were able to put up a monolithic front that could put even the police to shame.