Free Six Four by Hideo Yokoyama

only a week. The fanfare welcoming Heisei had swept it away, as though it had been an apparition. It had most certainly existed. It was during that final year of Showa that a man kidnapped and murdered a seven-year-old girl, before disappearing into Heisei. The code name ‘Six Four’ was a pledge that the case didn’t belong to the first year of Heisei, that they would drag the kidnapper right back into the sixty-fourth year of Showa . . .
    Mikami gave the altar a hesitant glance. Toshiko was smiling in her photo. Her youth caught him by surprise. The shot was probably one from a time when she’d still been carefree, from before she could even have imagined that her daughter might be kidnapped. The relaxed smile wasn’t that of a mother who had lost her daughter.
    Amamiya had fallen silent again. He still hadn’t asked Mikami why he was visiting. The emotion was draining from his eyes.
    Somewhere else . . .
    Mikami cleared his throat. He had no choice but to take theinitiative. He couldn’t let Amamiya retreat back into his shell, not before he’d outlined the reason for his visit.
    ‘There’s something I have to tell you – that’s the reason I’m visiting today.’
    Ask, not tell. He should have phrased it like that. He carried on, hurrying as he sensed a shift in Amamiya’s mood.
    ‘The truth is, our top executive has expressed a wish to visit you next week. Commissioner General Kozuka, from the National Police Agency in Tokyo. We know a long time has passed since the kidnapping, but it still goes without saying that we want to bring the perpetrator to justice by whatever means we can. The commissioner wishes to encourage the officers working on the case by attending the scene of the crime; he also wishes to visit you here and pay his respects to your daughter.’
    It was hard to breathe. The more he spoke, the more his chest seemed to fill with a pungent gas. Amamiya’s eyes were on the floor. That he was disappointed was obvious. It was hardly surprising. Mikami wondered if anyone in his position would take what he had said at face value – to be told only now, fourteen years later, that the commissioner general wanted to inject new life into the investigation.
Police politics. PR
. Had he perhaps seen through to the man’s true motivation?
    Having no other choice, Mikami continued.
    ‘I won’t deny that the case has been in limbo. But that’s exactly why the commissioner wants to visit. With enough press coverage, there’s a chance it might help new leads come to light.’
    There was a pause before Amamiya dropped his head in a bow.
    ‘You have my gratitude.’
    His voice was relaxed. Mikami breathed out silently, but his relief was tempered by his discomfort at having prevailed on the man. In the end, they always did as the police said. With no other means of exacting revenge, victims were dependent on the force to bring the perpetrator to justice. Mikami understood it now. His hands were tied because his daughter had run away fromhome, and now he was here, stringing empty words together for the sake of a PR exercise.
    Mikami took out his notebook. He flipped to the page with his notes from Akama’s office.
    ‘The commissioner’s visit is scheduled for Thursday, 12—’
    Before he could finish his sentence, he heard the muffled sound of Amamiya’s voice. Mikami tilted his head to one side.
    But it won’t be necessary
.
    It had sounded like that.
    ‘Amamiya-san?’
    ‘I appreciate the offer, but it won’t be necessary. There’s no need for someone as important as that to come all this way.’
    No need?
    Mikami pulled back a little. Amamiya had turned them down. His look was as distant as before, but there had been an unmistakable force to his words.
    ‘But . . . can I ask why?’
    ‘I don’t have any specific reason.’
    Mikami swallowed spit. Something had happened. He knew it intuitively.
    ‘Have we been amiss, in our—’
    ‘No, that’s not it.’
    ‘Then, why . .