Free Less Than Human by Maxine McArthur Page A

he ran through the list of things to do in his mind, he could feel a knot of tension in his chest dissolve. Whenever he
     bent over a body, he was always afraid it would be his son.
    “Assistant Inspector Ishihara.” A cheerful voice called him from the entrance hall, and young Kusatsu from Forensics came
     in, bringing an atmosphere of healthy bustle and a handcom. Kusatsu was fresh and smart and knew his computers backward; for
     some reason Ishihara became irritated after five minutes in his company.
    “I’ve ID’d them all.” He grinned triumphantly.
    Ishihara nodded acknowledgment. The Emergency Access Act could be helpful. Kusatsu could quote the case number, then input
     any information about an individual—in this case, probably photographs—and the National Data Network would find all other
     information on that individual. It could include everything from birth certificate to credit card status.
    “All four were students, the two girls at Ohara Women’s College, the boys at Osaka Engineering University.”
    Both elite universities, and expensive. Kusatsu offered the handcom, but Ishihara shook his head. “I’ll look at the details
     later,” he said. “How did they know each other?”
    “Apparently they’re all members of a local geography club. They go for walks around Osaka, find neat places nobody’s noticed
     before, that kind of thing.”
    “Uh-huh. We’ll talk to some of the other members of this club, I think. Did any of the kids know the owner of this apartment?”
    “Not according to him.” Beppu appeared in the kitchen doorway, filling it almost completely. “I ran the photos past him. He’s
     never seen any of them.”
    “So how did they know when he was going away?” said Ishihara.
    “The manager?” Kusatsu looked at Beppu.
    Beppu shook his head. “Don’t think so, although we’ll have to do a proper background check.”
    “We’ll have to do that with all of them,” said Ishihara.
    “I’ve got a constable going through the camera logs,” said Beppu.
    “Good.” Ishihara looked at Kusatsu. “What’s in those computers?”
    Kusatsu shook his head. “We’re waiting for the doc to finish. My boys don’t want to turn anything on until they’ve got the
     whole lot back to our labs. Don’t want to risk wiping anything by mistake.”
    “I can guess what’s in the computers,” said a female voice behind Beppu.
    Beppu stepped hurriedly into the kitchen, and a youngish woman wearing a trouser suit entered from the hall. She held up an
     ID that flashed more gold than a gangster’s watch. Her heart-shaped face was youthful, but her eyes were hard and calculating.
     She looked surprisingly like that stock character of police manga, the young and attractive female officer who shows up the
     older male characters.
    “Inspector Funo, Prefectural Office Religious Affairs.”
    Ishihara knew most of the prefecturals in his area, and female inspectors were too rare to forget. She must be a recent arrival
     from the National Police Authority in Tokyo.
    “We’ve been watching some of these young people,” said Funo. She shifted her handbag on her shoulder.
    “Not close enough,” muttered Beppu.
    Funo ignored him. “They may have been involved with a particularly difficult group called the Silver Angels.”
    Ishihara thought of the paint can.
    “Which of the kids did you follow, and how did you know they were involved with the group?” said Ishihara.
    “Let’s say one of the boys was indiscreet with his e-mail,” said Funo. “I can’t say more.”
    The kitchen felt uncomfortably warm and crowded. His imagination suggested that the smell from the bodies was getting stronger,
     and he was conscious of Dr. Matobe shifting from one foot to the other beside him.
    “Let’s go outside,” he said. “The morgue boys are waiting. We’ve all seen enough here, I think.” He’d have liked to look around
     a bit more, but he could check the videos later.
    The career