It was before 12:02 a.m. on May 8th, shortly after Kubo had returned from his check-in for the evening session, when he got a heads-up from the First Mobile Investigation Unit. His source, the assistant police inspector, said in a quick whisper, “Lady Joker’s on the move. They’ve demanded six hundred million in cash.”
“Lady—what?” Kubo grabbed a notepad that was nearby.
The assistant inspector repeated the English words. “Lady as in first lady. Then joker as in the trump card. Lady Joker. That’s what the crime group is calling themselves.”
Kubo passed around the notepad on which he had scribbled
Hinode suspects = Lady Joker to his colleagues in the press nook, then resumed firing questions into the receiver. “Was the demand made with a letter or over the phone?”
“A sealed letter. In a business envelope. It was thrown inside the front gate of their Kyoto factory this morning.”
“What time was it discovered?”
“Five-thirty a.m. A guard found it.”
“What did it say? Please!”
“They want six hundred million in used bills. The handoff will take place at eleven p.m. on the ninth. A white station wagon will be used to transport the money. Only one person in the car. Location will be somewhere in Koto district. That’s all I can tell you.”
“Where will the car leave from? The main office? A branch office? A factory? We can tail it.”
“That’s the best I can do, sorry.” His source cut off there, but Kubo could guess that the white station wagon with the payload would leave from either Hinode’s main office, its Tokyo branch, Yokohama branch, or the Kanagawa factory, and they’d know which if they staked out all the possible locations. So long as it took place within the city limits of Tokyo’s twenty-three districts, the driver would only be able to go so fast on local streets or the highway, making it possible for them to tail the vehicle if they knew which one it was.
“Yes, yes!” Kuriyama shouted. Chief Sugano was barking orders, without missing a beat. “I’ll contact the Metro chief. Kubo, you work on the advance articles. Kuriyama and Kondo, you guys assemble the beat reporters, and Kagawa-kun, have a car ready so we can tail them!”
Thus, in the moments before the deadline for the final morning edition, the MPD press nook was suddenly galvanized. Even as they spread the road map of Koto district and began to determine stakeout positions near Hinode’s main office and branch offices, they fixated on the peculiarity of that name, Lady Joker.
“Sounds like what they’d call one of those local race horses.”
“Nah, a video game.”
“No, no, a female pro wrestler.”
Despite these quips, the name boggled their imaginations. A female joker, of all things.
The following morning, the 9th, at the regular press conference, the chief inspector of First Investigation spoke only about developments in their interrogation of leaders of the religious cult and their involvement in the subway poison-gas terror attack, and there was no sign from the rival papers that they had gotten hold of any leads related to Hinode.
Before noon, taking stock of information gathered from their reporters staked out at the various locations, the news crew determined that the highest number of unmarked police cars were deployed in the area around Hinode’s Tokyo branch office in Nishi-Shinjuku, and deduced that it must be the starting point. Working backward from the designated hour of 11 p.m., the time of departure would be shortly after ten, at the earliest. There being no hostage, it was unlikely that Hinode would use real bills, and given that this was the first money exchange, it was possible that the perpetrators themselves would be testing the waters, but it was certain that the police had surrounded the place with a substantial net. After sundown, a number of backup reserve and beat reporters began patrolling the major roads within Koto district on motorcycles or in private cars, searching for unmarked police investigation vehicles or two-wheelers that might be positioned for pursuit of the perpetrators.
Their hunt for police investigation vehicles did not produce any hits, but at 10:25 p.m., as predicted, a reporter on stakeout confirmed that a white station wagon drove out of the parking lot of the Tokyo branch office. Kubo received this call while in a hired vehicle en route to the official residence of the chief inspector of First Investigation in Himonya. The driver was alone. A man. Wearing a sleeveless undershirt. The reporter said there was no way to know whether the man was a detective or not. If the unseasonal sleeveless undershirt had been a directive of the perpetrators, then they must have been on guard against the wireless radio that cops wore beneath their jackets.
Inside the car tailing the white station wagon was Kubo’s colleague Kuriyama, wearing glasses that he normally did not wear. They needed someone with at least a passing knowledge of the police investigation, who would be able to distinguish the vehicles and motorcycles of the recently deployed SIT teams, as well as recognize the faces of members of the Mobile Investigation Unit deployed to the first and second lines.
At 10:48 p.m., Kubo received word that the station wagon had been steadily making its way toward, then had crossed, the Shin-Ohashi Bridge over the Sumida River. Once across that bridge, the landscape shifted. They were now in Koto district—a jumble of cheap wooden apartments, decrepit buildings, ryokans barely discernible from residential houses, small steel factories, warehouses, stores, and the like intersected by layers of industrial roads running north, south, east, and west. During the day, rows of desolate grey homes seemingly frozen in time could be seen along the industrial roads clogged with trucks and commercial traffic headed toward Chiba, but in the depths of night, aside from the scant roadside illumination from convenience stores, family restaurants, and vending machines, the entire area would be steeped in darkness, as if awash with ink. Kubo was able to imagine the scene there now, and the parade of headlights, by reeling in his memories of the locales he had scrounged around in his ten years as a reporter. He knew just what kind of place the station wagon carrying the payload was moving through now.
Twelve minutes left until the time specified by the perpetrators. At this time of night, it would take less than ten minutes to drive straight through Koto district. Where was the station wagon headed? Kubo’s hired car had just turned into a sidestreet off Meguro-Dori Avenue, but before making his way toward the official residence, Kubo at least wanted to figure out the station wagon’s destination, so he remained inside the car, awaiting word.
At 11:02 p.m., Chief Sugano called from the press nook. “The station wagon has entered the parking lot of the Skylark Restaurant just in front of Nishi-Ojima Station. What appear to be two unmarked MPD motorcycles are nearby . . .” It only took four, five minutes to go straight from Shin-Ohashi Bridge to Nishi-Ojima. The station wagon had apparently adjusted for time along the way, and had then pulled into the Skylark parking lot.
As family restaurants in industrial areas far from nightlife centers always tended to be, the Skylark Restaurant would no doubt be crowded with young local couples, and inside, SIT detectives posing as some of those couples must now have their eyes trained on the parking lot. Where would the SIT and Mobile Unit’s riders—specially trained in pursuit—be waiting astride their 400cc bikes? The parking lot? The shoulder of the road? Or in a nearby alley? There was no way that the perpetrators would suddenly appear, so undoubtedly they’d have the station wagon move on to yet another spot.
Where will the next destination be? Feeling his blood pressure creeping up, Kubo told the chief, “I’ve got to see Kanzaki now, so I’ll leave you to it,” and dashed out of his hired car.
These last four days of the Golden Week holiday, the chief of First Investigation had received reporters for the regular evening interview sessions seemingly out of stubbornness, and again tonight he had returned to his official residence, feigning nonchalance to deflect the media’s attention. Yet by the time Kubo rushed up to join the reporters, the line that normally assembled by company along the alley in front of the official residence after 10 p.m. had already dispersed, save for the reporters from two commercial broadcasting companies.
“You’re awful late tonight,” the network reporter at the end of the line said, throwing a skeptical look at Kubo.
“My car got into a fender bender,” Kubo replied with forced sulkiness as he stood in the alley darkness. He had to keep his head down to hide the excitement that was no doubt evident on his face.
Ten minutes later, Kubo was the last person to enter the drawing room of the official residence, where he came face to face with the chief inspector of First Investigation. Kanzaki appeared without his suit jacket on, and was not even seated in his usual armchair.
He came right out with it. “The accident with your hired car is a lie, isn’t it?”
“Well, sure.” Kubo let the question go and instead got quickly to the point. “More importantly, about the Lady Joker case.”
Kanzaki cast a withering glance as he sat down in his chair. “You have five minutes.”
“Chief Inspector. The crime group after Hinode is calling themselves Lady Joker, are they not?”
“We haven’t confirmed whether that is their name.”
“I heard that a letter demanding six hundred million was delivered to the Kyoto factory yesterday morning.”
“I neither deny nor confirm that.”
“About forty minutes ago, a white station wagon left Hinode’s Tokyo branch office in Shinjuku. And just now, the station wagon arrived at a certain place in the middle of Koto district.”
“As far as the police force is concerned, to print such things in a newspaper would amount to a malicious obstruction of our investigation. Besides, no matter how you were to write about it, there would be no way to avoid its having a negative impact on Hinode’s business activities. Freedom of the press only reaches so far.”
“If a cash demand has been made, it would dispel rumors of any backroom deals, and so writing about it might not seem like negative press for Hinode.”
“Backroom deals and whatnot are concerns of the investigation and the media. The fact that the case has not come to an end is what causes an overreaction by the consumers and in the share price.”
“You mean the case will not end with tonight’s money exchange?”
“I’m not saying that at all. Hinode is fully cooperating with the police investigation now, and supposing that a cash demand were to be made, apprehending the crime group would be our highest priority. I do not condone any act that would interfere with such efforts.”
“There would be no obstruction if I wrote about it after the money exchange took place. Both consumers and investors have a right to know the facts as soon as possible. I’m putting it in the morning edition.”
“Reporting it in the paper could trigger an unexpected reaction from the suspects. Knowing that, would you still write about it?” Kanzaki asked and glanced at the clock, confirming that it was 11:19 p.m. “In any case, in order to provide for any contingencies, I would like for you to wait until after midnight,” he murmured. In that moment, Kubo became utterly convinced that the money exchange was still in progress, that the transport vehicle was headed elsewhere from Skylark, and that the perpetrators had not yet appeared.
“By ‘unexpected reaction,’ do you mean a development that could affect more human lives is anticipated?”
“It means I cannot speak about a situation that hasn’t produced an outcome. How about we call your press nook after midnight and say whether or not it’s O.K.? That’ll be all for tonight.”
As Kanzaki broke off the conversation and rose from his chair, he looked distracted, without even the presence to look Kubo in the face. Kubo surmised that now Kanzaki would either head back to Sakuradamon or pay a visit to Special Investigation headquarters.
At 11:24 p.m., Kubo called the MPD press nook as soon as he jumped back into his hired car. He was told that, on the scene in Koto district, the cash transport vehicle was on the move. After arriving at Skylark at precisely 11 p.m., the station wagon had not moved at all until 11:15 p.m. when it left the parking lot, getting back on Shin-Ohashi-Dori Avenue and traveling six hundred meters east. The vehicle appeared to stop in front of the Ojima Roku-chome intersection, then the driver got out of the car and went into a telephone booth on the sidewalk.
Apparently it was impossible to see the driver’s detailed movements from a distance, but he came out of the booth within less than a minute, got back in the station wagon, and then turned right at the intersection. The vehicle continued south for 1.2 kilometers, this time turning left onto Kiyosu-Bashi-Dori Avenue. After going about 200 meters, the station wagon stopped again in front of the Kitasuna Nana-chome overpass. Turned left into a blind alley. The unmarked MPD motorcycle that had been tailing the station wagon came to a stop in front of the overpass without turning left. This kept Kuriyama and those with him from getting any closer—a plainclothes detective ordered them to stop just as they pulled onto the shoulder of the road. This was at 11:21 p.m.
Next, there had been another call, saying that at 11:22 p.m., just as Kuriyama and his men were about to leave the scene following the detective’s orders, they saw the man in the sleeveless undershirt driving a navy van that pulled out from the alley in front of the overpass. It seemed the perpetrators had made them load the cash into a different vehicle. If the perpetrators were checking whether the police were tailing them by successively switching up the transport vehicle, then Kubo sensed that there was a fifty-fifty chance they would actually show up for the cash-grab, but the end result no longer mattered to him. There was not much they would be able to write about for the final morning edition anyway, but the name alone—Lady Joker—was sufficiently newsworthy to be splashed in a banner headline across the top of the front page. It was sensational enough and the article would build anticipation for further developments.
Copyright © 2022 by Kaoru Takamura; Translated by Allison Markin Powell and Marie Iida. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
