The Lying Detective

Prologue #1

2nd December

Two days before the ICPO meeting

The room was silent, made cavernous and dark and foreboding by the high ceiling, hardwood floor and blackout curtains. Although warm with heat effusing throughout the cavern from the wooden floor, many of the few individuals who knew of the room did their very best to avoid it. In the centre of the room lay a silent and lifeless monitor with a meagre selection of allies connected, like itself, to the dormant computer. Suddenly, noise perforated the silence as the door swung open smoothly on its hinges and projected a satisfied hum. Light flooded in from the corridor, bathing the floor and walls and curtains, exposing their dull colours. A shadow cut through the light and moved forward excitedly before the door shut abruptly and the room plunged into darkness once more.

Brief, but rhythmic padding echoed violently around the room accompanied by discordant, persistent tapping. The introduction was bought to a swift end as a click sounded, signalling the roar about to permeate the room as the computer sprung into life. Electrical, mechanical whirring filled the almost empty space as the monitor turned on, blindingly bright in its enthusiasm to display the computer's interface. The electronic symphony was interrupted briefly by the ruffling of clothes: the distinctive scratch of denim on denim flitted around the room as the intruder took a seat on the floor directly in front of the monitor's optimistic light.

Four days, pondered the intruder as he tapped his index finger lightly against his bottom lip. Even before calls had started coming in from some of the more astute members of various institutions and governments, it was obvious that something was off. Not so much a thread loose in the world, but a valuable item of clothing torn asunder by threads surgically removed. He paused. Perhaps that was somewhat of an exaggeration, but drama was in his blood; should it come as any surprise that such drama might also suffuse into his thoughts? Regardless, something was afoot and what was afoot seemed to be rather gleefully refusing to comply with current human understanding.

310 deaths in four days isn't unusual. The world will never be free of war, crime and corruption. No. There's nothing unusual about 310 deaths in four days. But, 310 people dying from heart attacks in four days? That alone is suspicious. No one just drops dead from a heart attack, not instantaneously at least. They might develop arrhythmia, go into cardiogenic shock or experience heart rupture, but to die of the heart attack itself? Unlikely.

Sudden cardiac arrest would be another story: you have just minutes to live unless urgent medical treatment is immediately available. That's not what's happening. I've received rushed autopsies from three countries and all have confirmed one impossible, but present truth. Victims suffered a heart attack and then immediately died. The valves of the heart appeared to have simply slammed closed, preventing the heart from pumping blood out or in and the victim then died immediately. No amount of CPR or surgical intervention had helped any of the 90 individuals where it had been attempted. 310 people dying of medically inexplicable heart attacks within four days? It could, of course, be a bizarre coincidence, but what do we say about coincidence?

"The universe is rarely so lazy," mused a deep, monotone voice before humming off into further contemplative silence.

Now, currently, the number of people on the planet suspecting – like myself – that something more nefarious is going on is less than ten. Of those ten individuals, five are in positions that allow them to investigate without provoking attention – I wouldn't have got those autopsy reports if this wasn't the case. Two of those have notified their respective police forces that will no doubt have started investigating on their own. They are likely to notice the pattern soon. The reason they're so likely to notice soon is that a significant proportion of these deaths have taken place within an institution. It didn't particularly matter where. A hospital, a government, a bank, a business: any of these could have been targeted and it would arouse suspicion equally as quickly. No. It didn't matter that so many of these deaths had happened within prisons, although that detail did provide some interesting hints.

No. There was no doubt. 310 deaths in prisons globally from heart attacks? These weren't deaths; they were too unusual, there was too much of a pattern. No, somehow these were murders, he paused, smiling to himself. This was undoubtedly the most significant and wide-reaching case of mass murder the world had ever seen and, in his musings on the case, he had already devised 50 ways in which the murders could have been performed.

The issue is, he considered, running his thumb across the seam of his lips, That all of these methods require accomplices, networks, quite simply: other individuals in the know. No amount of digging has uncovered even the barest hint that more than one person might be involved and it matters not how well hidden they may be, there are always traces or scents, paths to be followed. No, all of this points to one individual, an unparalleled killer.

A sudden crackling and crunching sounded within the room, deafeningly loud against the silence. Fingers audibly fumbled against something plastic and mass-produced before neatly tearing off the seal and letting it glide down to the floor. More noise crackled throughout the room as hands fumbled further, penetrating the package and grabbing a handful of sugar-coated chocolate goodness. Funnelling the sweets into his mouth with a pale, cupped hand, the young man pondered this new case further.

Serial killers, spree killers and mass murderers don't start out that way. Like any craft, becoming a successful killer takes practice. There is a period of learning, when the technique originally conceived and played out exclusively in the mind is put into practice for the first time and then altered and developed as appropriate. Additionally, most do not start with their plans. The first kill is usually accidental or, sometimes, intentional, but no serial killer starts with 24 victims and a perfect MO. Yet this case, it just defies the norm at every possible turn. They appear to have just started suddenly and out of the blue, but there must have been a build-up. There must have been guinea pigs, experiments. There must be traces somewhere. The question: where to look?

Oh, he sighed, bringing his train of thoughts to an abrupt and sudden stop. His dark, tired eyes drifted downwards before the truth hit him, There are no M&Ms left. Well, that's disappointing.

Now free of the chemical, but sugary goodness, his hand glided down towards the mouse on the floor, a single index finger resting on the graceful curve of the mouse. A second finger landed seconds after, shortly before the mouse was propelled forward, guiding its on-screen avatar towards various files and documents. Rapid clicking sounded throughout the room, precise and controlled like military gunfire. The noise ceased as abruptly as it began and the fingers were dragged from the mouse, floating gently upwards until they landed on lips, pulling downwards as the detective pondered the information before him.

It's already possible to start constructing a profile of this serial killer, he began mentally, pulling up files sent by the few individuals who had noticed something significant and world-changing was underway, First, they're probably male. It's not impossible they're female and, of course, if the case progresses and there are no immediately suspect characters, it's worth revising this point, but I'd bet serious money on them being male. Second, they're probably young. They've been killing convicted killers, rapists, criminals, many of whom were awaiting the death penalty anyway, but not all convicted criminals are in fact guilty. This is a simple fact and yet the killer does not seem to particularly care, or if they do, this isn't a point they've considered. This all suggests someone young with an underdeveloped understanding of right and wrong, or perhaps someone sheltered in some way – secured in a bubble of similarly-minded individuals.

Third, it is very likely they live and were raised in a country with capital punishment: statistically, individuals raised in countries operating the death penalty are more likely to view it is as justified, and even right. Whilst it's not entirely implausible that this isn't the case, this killer believes and supports the death penalty, and they more than likely believe that countries lacking it sorely require it. Additionally, if they're not Japanese, then they are Japanese-speaking. This is by far the biggest tell, the greatest certainty. The killer's victims are from various countries around the world but there are two distinctive and limiting factors: language and technology. Of the 310 victims I've uncovered so far, those that were not Japanese were from countries with significant English-language press or English-language news coverage. So clearly, as well as Japanese, the killer is fluent in English.

Now, the mindset, he continued, hesitating for a second as he regretted eating the M&Ms as quickly as he had. They were the crispy ones too. He should have rationed them more efficiently. Making a mental note to do just that next time, his thoughts returned to the case at hand, The killer is young, believing firmly and rather naïvely in a very black-and-white sense of justice, likely believing that it is not only just to kill criminals, but also that this is necessary. More significantly, this person has killed 310 people in four days. No single individual should be capable of this, not without consequences to their mental health, so somehow, the methods for killing allow significant distance from the victim.

This isn't someone pulling a trigger or someone telling someone to pull a trigger, but someone far enough removed from the action and its consequences that they feel no guilt at all. Couple this with their belief in their own righteousness and the facts all point towards one simple truth. This killer is the most dangerous individual to have ever lived: a man believing himself to be a god with the ability to kill anyone, anywhere without any accomplices or allies to hold him back or hold him to account.

He's not a god though. A god wouldn't need to test their method first and test this person did. It was simply a question of where and when to look, the detective thought to himself briefly, running through his ideas again. He acknowledged faults in his theories and deductions where he found them and marked those he found to be particularly solid or feasible. After performing this process twice, he nodded once to himself before taking hold of the mouse once more and beginning his search online, Assuming the killer is in Japan and Japanese first makes the most sense: the population of Japanese speakers is highly concentrated in one area and otherwise, the whole process will be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

Now, the killer is using new sources to find his victims – every single victim had been named by a news website or channel, he considered, before he limited his search to Japanese new sources, Two days are most likely to present the information needed – the first day of the killings and the day preceding it. This is, of course, reliant on the assumption that the culprit is indeed young and righteous. If they are, they would have been recklessly eager to begin and would have committed fully and quickly to the idea.

Regardless of how much he had managed to narrow down his search, the information to be sifted through was still significant and, unlikely though it was, a false deduction would mean the whole process was a wild goose chase. However, you do not take the top three spots of any ranking without being excellent at what you do and he had found what he was looking for within 10 minutes. Had anyone been there in the room with him, they would have known the exact moment he had found what he was looking for. His face suddenly brightened with an expression that was halfway between a smile and a smirk. As time progressed, the smile faded and the smirk became more prominent before gradually falling away as he considered what his findings meant.

Kuro Otoharada, a suspect in Shinjuku who had taken eight people hostage in a daycare centre the day after attacking six people in a shopping district, the detective paused from his thoughts long enough to issue a sigh and a heart-felt eye-roll, Within an hour of this story hitting the news, he died suddenly. The hostages claimed he had collapsed but these later articles confirm that Kuro Otoharada died of a heart attack. One day before the killings began. Even more interestingly, this story made national news in Japan, but was not reported anywhere else.

"How very interesting," mumbled the detective to himself. Although his face was expressionless, the apparently lifeless eyes were positive glistening and would likely continue to do so whether the monitor was on or off.

Somewhere out there, probably in Japan, is a deluded young man with a very naive sense of justice and a frankly unnerving weapon who has already killed 311 people. Questions remain of course, chief among them being: How? How are these murders taking place? How is this man killing people this quickly when the victims are thousands of miles apart? How?

"Watari," began L, "Interpol will be having a meeting very soon. You'll need to make your way over to Lyon."

"I see," replied the soft, familiar voice, "I'll begin making preparations right away."

"Oh," L declared, knowing all too well that Watari would cut off the connection and begin immediately, "And Watari?"

"Yes?" smiled Watari in response, already predicting – entirely accurately – the next words he was going to hear.

"Could you buy me some macaroons while you're there?" demanded L politely with an answering, though unseen, smile, "You know the ones. A tray or two if you could."

"Of course," Watari replied before pausing for an uncharacteristically long time, continuing with a delicate, careful tone, "MH called."

"He did," said L, unsure whether he was asking or stating. L's pause was not uncharacteristically long, but it was indeed long enough to betray the volume of his feelings to Watari. L could almost hear Watari's silent nod over the connection before it cut out. Gracefully rising to his feet, L headed towards the door. There was little doubt in his mind.

I need more M&Ms.