The Silent Dead Page 20

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Huh?” Otsuka gasped and looked up in disbelief.

  “I said, what do you want me to do?”

  “You mean you’ll do it?”

  “You need to tell me what it is first.”

  “So when I tell you what it is, you will do it?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Fuck, but you’re one bullheaded bastard. You wore me down.”

  Otsuka couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

  Tatsumi emitted a derisive snort. “It was the same damn thing when you arrested me. I’d have been fine if I’d just stayed put in my hiding place, but you waited me out, staying in the same damn place for three hours. I blinked first. You’re free to think I fell off that wall, if you want, but that isn’t what happened. You wore me out until I climbed down out of that building and I gave myself up.”

  Otsuka got up off the floor and grasped Tatsumi’s hands.

  “Thank you. Thank you.”

  Tatsumi tore his hands away.

  “Hang on. I don’t work for free, you know.”

  “I know. What’s your daily rate?”

  “Like I said, I need to know what the job is first.”

  Otsuka nodded, pulled an envelope out of his briefcase, tipped out several pages of printouts, and pushed them across. Tatsumi flicked through them.

  “Looks like a message board?”

  “That’s right. I need to identify the individuals who are putting up posts. Take this Wicked Wizard guy here. I want you to get his real name and address. Think you can do it?”

  “As long as the guy uses the same handle for all his posts.”

  “Someone told me that people can only be tracked back as far as their proxy server. You think you can identify the individuals?”

  Tatsumi gave an impatient jerk of his head. “Whining about proxies is for amateurs. I’m a pro, man. Identifying individual users—piece of fucking cake. There’s only one snag: I need to be online at the same time as they are. When they’re offline, there’s fuck-all I can do. You need time and patience for a job like this.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem, then. I want you to identify the regular users of the different message boards. They log on nightly.”

  Tatsumi held up his hand to interrupt.

  “Hang on a sec. Did you say regular users? You’re talking about more than one of them?”

  “I was going to ask you to do eight.”

  “Eight? Okay, but like I said before, I don’t come cheap.”

  “How much will it cost me?”

  “For this—fifty thousand yen per person.”

  “Fifty thousand times eight—you mean four hundred thousand?”

  That was impossible. Totally impossible. What he was asking for was illegal, so he wasn’t going to get any funds from the department. He was going to have to pay for it himself, and four hundred thousand wasn’t feasible. His salary was less than three hundred thousand a month. Four hundred was beyond him.

  “Could you see your way to giving me a discount?”

  They spent the next half hour haggling over price.

  3

  SUNDAY, AUGUST 24

  Reiko was visiting empty properties in Shibuya. Yesterday had produced nothing, and they’d drawn a blank at the live music club they’d been to that morning.

  “Maybe we’d be better off trying a new angle, Lieutenant,” suggested Ioka, leading her into an Internet café. “Here’s my idea. If we access the online message boards from the police station, people would only have to check the server to see that we’re cops. But here, it’s a different story. If we use an Internet café, no one will know we’re cops.”

  As far Reiko could tell, Ioka was proposing that they started posting on the bulletin boards. That way, they might be able to establish contact with the regular contributors, some of whom seemed very well informed.

  “Not a bad idea. You think they’ll bite?”

  “No harm in trying.”

  They went online and accessed one of the message boards. No one was talking about Strawberry Night right then, so the topic had been pushed down to the bottom of the list.

  “We’ll need a name to log in with. Hmmmm … everybody else here has a male handle, so maybe female would be better.”

  “Does the name really matter much?”

  “People talk about ‘the scent of a woman,’” said Ioka, snuggling his head into Reiko’s shoulder.

  “You’re telling me I stink.”

  “No, you smell good. You’re fragrant.”

  “And you’re a pervert.”

  “Oh, please. Abuse me some more.”

  Reiko slapped Ioka hard. The sound echoed through the quiet room, and everyone turned to stare.

  You never learn, do you? It’s impressive in its own way.

  Reiko responded violently to sexual harassment. On the train, with would-be gropers, she had notched up a tally of seventeen broken fingers and two broken arms. At work, her record was more modest: six broken fingers and zero arms—but she had kneed three guys in the balls and concussed a couple by kicking their legs out from under them. Ioka was lucky—he’d not yet suffered any broken bones.

  Reiko wondered briefly if she was starting to like Ioka a little and was unconsciously cutting him slack.

  That, I refuse to accept!

  Ioka was unusually tough, she told herself, and could take any physical punishment she dished out.

  “How about ‘Peaches’?” said Ioka, waggling a finger.

  “What the hell kind of name is that?”

  “It was the name of my pet hamster when I was a kid.”

  “I don’t want to share a name with your stupid hamster.”

  “How about ‘Kasumi,’ then?”

  Reiko’s cell phone buzzed on the edge of the table. She checked the caller ID. It was from task force HQ.

  “Himekawa.”

  “Imaizumi here. I need you to go to Toda Park. Fast.”

  “Toda Park in Saitama? That Toda?”

  “That’s it. They’ve found a body at the Toda Rowing Course, wrapped in a blue plastic sheet. It’s in an advanced state of decay, but it looks like it could be one of ours.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Reiko felt a tingling in her spine.

  * * *

  Toda Park was just this side of the Arakawa River, which marked the border between Tokyo and Saitama. Reiko and Ioka got off the train at Toda Park Station and headed for the rowing course. A minivan with sliding doors—probably Forensics—was parked nearby, along with an unmarked car from the Mobile Unit and a black-and-white patrol car of the prefectural police. Twenty or so curious members of the public were milling around.

  She showed her badge to the uniform on sentry duty. There was a pause, then a “Good afternoon.” He treated her to the usual slightly skeptical look but had the grace to lift up the yellow tape to let her through.

  Advancing down the path, they came to a series of low-slung sheds. All the top universities, from Tokyo University on down, had boathouses here. Beyond the boathouses, they emerged beside a long straight stretch of water—the Toda Rowing Course.

  The police had closed the park to the general public, so there were no civilians on this side of the river. The road on the far side, however, was a crowd of rubberneckers. It was a noisy, heaving scrum over there. Not even the blistering heat could keep people away.

  The crime scene was indeed out of the ordinary. Bundles of blue plastic sheeting lay on the concrete bank—nine of them, all human-sized. As Reiko approached the cluster of middle-aged men gloomily inspecting the line of corpses, she slipped on a Homicide armband and introduced herself with a crisp bow.

  “Reiko Himekawa, TMPD Homicide.”

  “Good to see you. Fumihito Azuma, Homicide, Prefectural Police.”

  The geniality of his smile as he presented her with his card took her aback.

  “You got here fast. I specifically requested you. So, what do you think? Déjà v
u all over again?”

  The police forces outside Tokyo seemed to be staffed by people with a major chip on their shoulder with regard to the Metropolitan Police. But the Saitama Prefectural Police appeared to be the exception to the rule. Not only was Azuma friendly, none of the other detectives were eyeballing her either.

  Azuma’s the same rank as Sata was in the Saitama police.

  It felt like good karma to Reiko.

  “The plastic sheeting’s certainly similar. Can I have a look inside?”

  “Be my guest.”

  Azuma gestured to end of the line.

  “We lined them up in order. Newest to oldest.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  So the nine bodies were all in different states of decay, were they? That would make sense if they’d been dumped in the water at the rate of one per month.

  “We think this one’s the freshest.”

  Azuma peeled back the sheet. Reiko inspected the body, taking care not to breathe through her nose.

  Although the face had disintegrated, it was clear from the body shape that they were looking at a woman. There were two X-shaped cuts where the breasts ought to have been. It looked as if the X had been the leitmotif of her particular torture session; there were around twenty similar-shaped cuts on her upper body. The flesh around them was blanched and puffy, giving her body the appearance of being covered in white flowers. Reiko checked the presence of the incisions to the carotid artery and the abdomen. Assuming this corpse was the one directly before Namekawa, it would be about two and half months old. The state of decomposition looked about right.

  Reiko got as close to the body as she could stand. She stared at it, as if willing it to speak to her. But like the previous two bodies, it was silent. Strange. Unable to learn anything new from the corpse, Reiko stood up.

  Reiko nodded at Azuma. “Definitely the same MO. Who discovered the bodies?”

  Azuma, who had been squatting down beside her, stood back up. “The sheet around this particular body seems to have been tied especially tight. The decomposition gases, which accumulated around the head, couldn’t get out. That made the string around the feet snap and the whole thing floated up to the surface like a big balloon.”

  He jerked a thumb at the row of boat sheds behind him. “Some Tokyo University students found this one during morning rowing practice. They were merrily rowing away, when this thing bobbed up right next to their boat. Must have given them one hell of a shock. It sank straight back down again. That could have been the end of it, but luckily for us one of the boys had been paying attention to the news and knew something about you lot finding bodies wrapped in blue plastic in a pond in Tokyo. He called it in, and the local precinct got HQ to send in a team of divers. Their search turned up these nine. That’s about it, really. The divers called it a day when they ran out of oxygen. They’ll resume the search tomorrow. It’s funny how after you found your bodies in Tokyo, this lot pops up over here. It’s almost like they’re trying to be found to get back at whoever killed them.”

  Azuma paused, then flicked to the next page of the report in his hand. The second most recent body was already so far gone, he explained, they couldn’t identify its sex. Assuming they’d got the order right, they presumed it dated from three and half months ago. The overall skeletonization process was advanced, and they’d been unable to confirm any wounds to the neck or abdomen.

  Azuma showed Reiko the third and then the fourth body. Both were in a state of almost total skeletonization, and she could see little difference between them. Inspecting the others would be a waste of time. Just as the thought crossed her mind, a most unwelcome voice boomed out behind her.

  “I’m impressed, Lieutenant Himekawa. Working so hard in this heat.”

  She spun around. Lieutenant Katsumata was standing directly behind her, his florid face gleaming with sweat. Had the task force HQ sent him here, or had he sniffed out the crime scene on his own? Whichever it was, Reiko knew that his presence could only make things harder.

  “Hi, all. The name’s Katsumata, Metropolitan Police, Homicide,” he said. “Damn, this heat.”

  “Hi, I’m Azuma, Prefectural Homicide.”

  The sight of Azuma handing his business card to Katsumata, as he had just done to her, made Reiko irrationally angry. She cleared her throat loudly to get everyone’s attention.

  “Lieutenant Katsumata, why are you here?”

  “Are you so up your own ass that you think you’re the only one to hear about this crime scene? You think a fool like you knows anything I don’t? You’re too damn arrogant, you dumb hick.”

  Azuma, who was standing next to Katsumata, looked utterly mystified.

  “I’m not arrogant.”

  “Yes, you fucking are. Anyway, everything’s turned out roses for you. This parade of stiffs will give a nice credibility boost to that murder show theory that you and your sidekick floated.”

  “Hey, wait a—” exclaimed Reiko.

  “What are you talking about?” broke in Azuma. “What’s this about a murder show?”

  Katsumata turned to him, his face beaming. “We’ve got some unusual information I can’t really tell you about, but the fact is—”

  “Lieutenant Katsumata!” Reiko grabbed Katsumata’s shoulder to make him shut him up. His beady little insect eyes slid back to her, and he glowered furiously. Reiko was past caring. She shoved him off to the side.

  “Lieutenant Azuma, we will provide you with a full written report only when this is officially designated as a joint investigation. Katsumata, I need a word with you.”

  As she dragged Katsumata into the bleachers behind them, his middle-aged cop partner attempted to follow them. Reiko glared at him and he retreated.

  “What’s going on here? Why’re you manhandling me?”

  Every word he said only stoked her rage.

  “Katsumata.” Reiko glared at him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, shooting your mouth off before a joint investigation’s been authorized?”

  Katsumata raised an eyebrow. “Are you really that stupid? The two crime scenes are almost identical. Of course we’re going to join forces with these guys. And since when did you become the poster girl for doing things by the book? I know what this is all about—you wanting to take all the credit and not share your leads with anyone else,” Katsumata said. He spat in the direction of Reiko’s feet.

  Me, a credit hog? That’s pretty damn rich, coming from you, Stubby.

  Reiko was seething inside. The way he kept needling her like this whenever their paths crossed was unbearable. Reiko decided to have it out with him then and there.

  “Lieutenant Katsumata, why are you always barging in and getting in my way? Have I done something to antagonize you?”

  “Barging in?” sneered Katsumata. “That’s not very nice. You only think I get in the way, because you’re too much of a slowpoke to know which way this thing is going in the first place. If you were willing to take a back seat, you wouldn’t need to throw a hissy fit at me.”

  “I got here first.”

  “Bravo, wonder woman. Only because Captain Zoomzoom tipped you off.”

  “How did you hear about it, Lieutenant?”

  “None of your business.”

  “What about Kasumi Shiratori then? I was supposed to interview her.”

  “You were assing around doing something else, so I stepped in and dealt with her. Welcome to the big leagues, slowpoke. Things move fast here. You’re not in Hicksville anymore.”

  “What’s with this ‘hick’ crap you keep throwing at me?”

  “If Urawa isn’t Hicksville, then where the fuck is? I’m a Tokyo man, born and fucking bred. You—you’re an ignorant potato-eating slut from the boonies. That’s why you like to screw behind park toilets.”

  “What the—” Before the words were even out of her mouth, Reiko’s right hand had reflexively shot back.

  I’ve had it with this filthy bastard! I’m going to punch his lights out
!

  Someone gently took hold of her wrist. “Probably better not, Lieutenant.”

  She suddenly noticed Ioka standing right behind her.

  “Do it and they’ll take you off the investigation.”

  Good old Ioka. He’s right, of course.

  Katsumata would have no qualms about presenting himself as a victim. Even if the charges ultimately failed to stick, he could kick up an almighty stink—which would be enough to get Reiko pulled off the case.

  Why? Why does he treat me like this?

  Reiko gritted her teeth and forced herself back under control. She turned around and began to walk away.

  “Your whole approach. It’s too damn dangerous.”

  She knew that Katsumata was still talking to her, but she kept right on going.

  4

  SUNDAY, AUGUST 24, 7:30 P.M.

  Otsuka was at the evening meeting.

  “The autopsy report and forensic test results for the bodies found at the Toda Rowing Course in Saitama this morning have come in, so I will start there. There were nine bodies in total, all of which were wrapped in plastic sheeting manufactured by Minowa Building Materials—just like the two bodies found earlier. In what is believed to be the most recent of the bodies, there was an incision severing the carotid artery and another large vertical incision slicing open the abdomen. The state of decay of the nine bodies suggests that they were dumped in the water at one-month intervals. This matches the interval between the Namekawa and the Kanebara murders. The evidence leads us to conclude that the same perpetrator is responsible for the bodies found at Toda and Mizumoto. We have therefore decided that we should cooperate fully with the prefectural task force handling the Toda case and investigate the two cases jointly.

  “It’s not yet an official joint investigation, but I still want you to think of our two task forces as a single unit and act accordingly. The ground rules are as follows. On our side, we share all the information we have unearthed so far with the prefectural police; they, in turn, share anything new they find with us.

  “I don’t want to see any territorial rivalry about which task force can crack the case first. This isn’t about us versus them. Our priority here is to catch this brutal murdering freak. With eleven victims to his credit already, media interest can only grow, and the longer the investigation continues, the worse we—the police—will look. Starting tomorrow, I need you to redouble your efforts. Be tough, be smart, and make me proud.”