1.01
February 15th, 1996
Kogoro lifted his head from the desk. His eyes took in the familiar sight of his office bathing in the bright sunlight, including the coffee table holding a bowl of cold pasta and a pair of empty beer cans. He charged the remains of his excuse of a dinner, mainly the beverage, with his headache. Even so, the gears in his head started clicking at the uncharacteristic amount of mess surrounding him. He must have fallen asleep in the middle of something more important. He pushed himself up and forced himself to get the bottom of the mystery. As far as he remembered, he closed his eyes for a moment before dealing with a heavy subject within himself.
He opened the windows wide, shuddering in the cool air as the healthy noise of bustling city hit his ears. He watched the cars and people passing in front of the detective agency with a tint of jealousy towards their nonchalant lifestyle presumably not involving an organisation of criminals commanding trained assassins. That was why he was a detective and they were civilians, there was nothing to be done. He fastened his necktie in a calm manner.
He wondered what time it was.
As it turned out, a shocking revelation was a good remedy for his insomnia.
After propping the windows, mindful of that time a stronger wind shut and cracked them unexpectedly, he started for the door. He walked past the unruliness reigning in the office with a mental note to take care of it later and twisted the key in the lock. He casually strode to the mailbox to check for new letters only to find the usual amount of paper wasted on advertisement falling out of it upon opening. A bicycle flashed past him, causing him to jump back and the brochures to scatter across the sidewalk to his irritation. He swallowed the anger and started gathering the colourful addition to the concrete surface when an unexpected helping hand appeared.
"Lemme help with it, Mouri-san."
A woman in her early twenties wearing an apron snatched a couple of brochures from the sidewalk. Her hazel locks shined in the bright sunlight as her petite figure danced in the café uniform. He was surprised at first, then decided to appreciate the kind gesture.
"Thank you for the help, Azusa-san."
"No problem."
"I wish you a nice day, then."
He nodded goodbye to the waitress and walked up the stairs, dumping the brochures on the shelf meanwhile. His living quarters offered a pleasant tranquillity in comparison to the world outside the walls and the world inside his mind. He walked into the kitchen, grabbed the last portion of ordered pasta, evidence of his lacking skills at cooking, and put it into the microwave. After the plate stopped rotating, he fetched his impromptu breakfast and a pair of chopsticks before making a beeline for the table in the living room. He entertained himself with the thought of reaching the unreachable level of his daughter in domestic competence as he turned on the television.
"Thanks to Hamada, the Tokyo Spirits are leading to—"
He adjusted the volume to a barely audible level as he dug into the pasta.
From a night away, it felt unreal. He felt to lose his grip on reality whenever he thought about the concept of manipulating time and the strings attached. He could not even begin to understand what it would feel like to die, to feel the essence of life slipping away and the link to reality to break, and then find oneself in familiar version of the world, reliving a part of history over and over. He would have lost his sense of reality and possibly his sanity in the place of their teen, and he considered it a miracle that the young detective was not locked up in a mental ward. A chill crawled up his spine at the idea of one bearing such a power going insane.
He was having a hard time coping with this absurd violation of the laws of nature. He had to accept the phenomenon beyond his control so that he would not be left behind in the drifting heavens, even if he would never see the world the same as a result.
He felt a strange type of satisfaction washing over him. He thought it stemmed from his superior insight on the general situation as for the first time, he was a person that mattered in the big picture. He, the resident of a rundown flat and a broke detective agency, was considered important enough to be allowed in a case that would fly over the heads of the best the country could produce. His acquaintances were the main characters behind the scenes.
He remembered the pictures from the newspaper. He was scared too, on behalf of the people he held dear and the many innocent that he could not even keep track of. He was not a stranger to what could happen during this kind of investigations but that did not dissuade him from collaboration. A completely different emotion made his heart beat in his chest faster any time he was thinking about the future cases in tandem with existential fear.
He was, undeniably and shamelessly, excited.
His role drilled into his mind tried to drag him to the ground, showing his responsibilities as a citizen and a father in his face. He was supposed to tell the law enforcement about his findings, like he was supposed to decline his involvement and ensure the safety of his family above everything. He was aware of the standards society invisibly imposed on him and following his possessed state of mind and the example of his daughter, he declined the expected declination without expecting any reassurance from the string of compromises centred around personal safety and gain. He consented to standing out like a sore thumb from the diligent citizens.
And that decision altered the way he looked at his life.
He looked at the trivial actions of daily life as fleeting, transient treasures of peace. He felt stupid for finding entertainment in watching people on the streets or checking the mail or exchanging a couple of kind words with the waitress from the café or warming the pasta for himself, but the fact that their presence was heart-warming did not change. He only wished for his daughter to be there, to share these overlooked moments with her and make her genuinely happy.
He was surprisingly optimistic about the future. He did not chase unreal expectations about a confrontation with an organisation of that scale but for some reason, he believed that it was possible for them to win. He could envision a future where the other two teens would sit around the table together with him to discuss school or soccer or the latest episode of their favourite serials—that brought him back to that evening that tasted like true happiness. His heart ached for the three of them to gather again like in that envisioned future, to watch a movie and talk. He never thought that he would carve for anything in his life so strongly.
His house panging with silence apart from the noises of him eating and the barely audible sounds of the sport commentary slapped him in the face. He realised that reaching that aim would be more mental challenge and hard work than he had done in his life altogether.
He was about to victimise the last bite of pasta when his cell phone buzzed.
He swallowed fast.
"Hallo, Mouri Kogoro speaking."
A familiar voice boomed through the connection.
"I understand. You can count on me."
A new call from the prophet and the whatever the police could pull out of their favourite detective. He was not surprised that that was enough to issue a task force meeting merely days after the previous one. He was looking forward with bottled anxiety to have a peak at the art of deceit.
And he would finally get the name of the person to look for.
Sato was, unbeknownst to many, a rather private person. While she appeared as friendly and approachable on the outside, she preferred to keep her deep insights to a handful on confidants. However, even with her skills at keeping personal opinions at bay honed to a professional level, skimming through the file towering on her desk without a stray thought commenting on the contents prodding the natural curiosity of the human mind was a near impossible task.
Normalcy turning upside down was nothing unusual in her books, however, an entire island returning to dust in front of her eyes was on another magnitude. Not even the finest of details slipped her memory for the nature of the incident. As she was calming the people with improvised confidence after the police reinforcements, including her, had reached the ship distancing from the site of catastrophe, she did not fail to observe the pure destruction laid out in the open. Not even being a mile away from the incident made her wiser than the next detective on the spot, which, while irritating her to no end, was not an unusual phenomenon.
As if wrapping oneself up in an incident out of normal comfort zone was a strange kind of initiation in the division. A good portion of their ranks had unexpectedly found themselves in the crossfire since the prophet had appeared, which had gained a new member in her person.
And some of the others had earned more than an unpleasant memory.
Her mind found distraction in the endless complaining a detective had done the week after the debut of the prophet, demanding his transfer after a flopping car nearly had clopped his head off by flying over him within inches. His valid opinion had been complaining compared to the detectives accidentally hit by a stray bullet in the same incident or the rookies led to the lair of a mafia group without time to prepare or call for reinforcements. Even though field work had been condensed into less time and more hazard and paperwork was through the roof, no police detective of her division valuing their profession quitted over occasional difficulties.
And they even had a new recruit—a cute enthusiast, if she added.
A sip from the cup of steaming coffee was a good excuse to take a break from the menace reduced into carefully crafted words and watch the new guy trying to make the printer work with a tint of amusement. He looked at the piece of electronics with unexperienced eyes, he could have hardly brought that kind of competence from a police box, trying to find the odd part. He seemed to catch on that the source of trouble might be internal and scratched his head cluelessly—he looked even more like a lost puppy when left alone with a problem over his head. He replaced the document he was trying to copy, tapped the machine on the side, then—
"Sato-san, what are you looking at?"
Miyazaki appeared as an entity observing each of her steps.
"Nothing, nothing. Takagi-kun seems to need help with the printer."
"Sato-san, your papers—"
She looked horrified at the important paperwork sporting a stain of brown from the capsized cup. Her mind was creating scenarios of the different ways the inspector could bonnet her as she snatched the papers and tried to clean them fruitlessly. She had to print them again.
"Miyazaki-kun, could you get the file ready for me?"
"Of course, Sato-san."
Dismissing his all too eager reaction to her request of assistance, she promptly stood up and walked up to the new guy. He stuck at the problematic part of determining the problem, not noticing that the wire disconnected from the plug. A common error that had caused a number of headaches before a person with an inkling to technology realised the problem under the neat coating of the wire and swept all other theories off the table. He was surprised when she approached him, clearly not expecting a single person in the room to stand up and help him, and that the printer came to life after some fumbling with the wiring.
"And done. This one act up sometimes."
He looked embarrassed. He thought that knowing office secrets was a must.
"What did you want to copy earlier?"
"Ah, nothing."
Her surprise took her words when she fished out and took a better look at the papers stuffed into the scanner. Her own work found its way into her hands again, the documentation of the incident having the taste of true obscurity at the hands of an unknown entity that she had typed into report format back then. Tropical Land was one of the greatest mysteries to date, which everyone knew to hold the key to the truth that nobody had been able to crack.
Her accusatory gaze technically destroyed the rookie from a police box getting the hang of detective work amongst their highly esteemed midst. He was wordlessly fidgeting waiting for her judgement without an ounce of resistance. While she had no idea for what reason did a rookie without any connection to the task force need the documentation of that case of all things, she lightened the pressure on his person with trying to appear tolerant towards him.
"Takagi-kun, this is restricted material. Even though our division wrote the report, only the task force is allowed to multiple it without handing in a request before. As a member of the first division, you might have access if you apply for it with the inspector or one of the superintendents. However, you're not allowed to make copies without asking anyone. If you have questions, ask me or the other detectives. Even if they don't seem like that, they'll help."
"If you say so..."
He looked around nervously to meet the judgemental gazes of the other detectives. A sigh left her mouth at the insufferable excuse of dedication the male population of the division showed towards her in the most cringey way possible. For the better or the worse, he had not earned the respect of the other detectives and followed the general stay-away-from-the-only-woman-in-the-division rule as much as possible yet—or worse, join the fanclub himself.
Before she switched the topic completely, she wanted to ask a question of interest.
"What were you planning to do with this?"
He stood from one leg to the other.
"I had a feeling that something was odd, I thought I should—never mind. I should have asked someone for permission to copy the files and use the printer. I always did everything by myself in the police box and had the authority to do anything with the papers we held onto—I know that I should let go of those habits but my premonitions bug me sometimes and my hands are faster than my mind thinking through what I'm doing—point is, I am truly sorry—"
"Hey, take a breath. I scolded you so that you won't have problems from that in the future. I find your opinion worthy of a good talk. None of the first division trying to tackle that one could get further than the task force. Who knows, maybe a fresh start is what we need."
He froze. No reaction apart from mindless staring.
A couple of seconds needed to pass for him to point a shaky finger at himself.
"You mean, you would actually listen to me—as in, the unexperienced rookie me who—"
"Yes, I would. You have proven yourself a competent detective. You just have to bulk on the confidence." A smile crossed her face, feeling like a mentor for the first time in many years. Not that she understood herself trying to make connection with other people. A lot of good had that done every single time. "I would rather steal the printer for now though, I happened to spill some coffee on my paperwork. We can talk later, let's say—"
She was too caught up in her thoughts to notice the swarm of detectives surrounding her and the poor rookie, who looked like to have been surrounded feral wolves ready to chew and spit him out. Even if they looked human on the outside and towards her, for the most part.
"Guilty as charged."
A cuff clicked on his wrist. Oh boy, this was bad.
"Truly shameless. How dare you to seduce our Miwako-chan?"
A sweat drop hung from her head at the usual radicalism showcased in her sight, thought to be appealing. Watching his desperate attempts to fight his way out of the number of detectives overpowering him because of a comment she dropped, she was about to prevent a kidnapping taking place right in the fort of law, his ultimate saviour and the enforcer of the paperwork she lagged behind with thanks to her daydreaming and wandering curiosity appeared.
"What is this baboonery? Get back to work immediately!"
The inspector was the only person who held power above this flock.
"Sato-kun, are the papers ready?"
Kogoro was a tad bit surprised that the meeting was scheduled so late. A pale shade of settling sunlight enlightened the corridor in a line behind him upon opening the door he had been intimidated to open a month ago. He had been shocked at the nonchalant attitude of the teen back then, acting totally at ease in face of people way over his position. He was doing the same after a month of practise and an unforeseen revelation. His mind brushed off the pressure weighting him as simply as he had used to bow to it as he leisurely found his seat. All people surrounding him had gone from omnipotent beings to regular detectives trying to crack a case together with him.
Or, mindful of the current change of tides, under his nose.
Kuroda stood up. "I open today's discussion with the schedule. As we were lacking information on the previous occasion, we have to talk about the incident of Tsukikage-jima again and the new phone call from the prophet and its odd properties before deciding on our course of actions in the following period of time."
He made himself comfortable for the upcoming conversation that he knew more about than the rest combined. He thought that the first point had been discussed on the occasion he had been absent, it seemed that he was mistaken. He listened with half an ear, should any detail surface that was worthy to remember and mention to the teen at his next visit due the next day. And he was also curious about the police heads' opinions on the events.
Matsumoto took the word. "I agree with the schedule and think that the rest of the present consider it reasonable too. I would like to clarify the assumed connection between the prophet and the Tsukikage-jima incident. So far, we established a connection between a case and the prophet if there was a distinct and unmistakable involvement from the side of that person, usually in form of a phone call towards one of the involved parties or the law enforcement. His character would dictate a clear intervention in the cases he attempts to prevent. As far as we know, there was no such intervention this time, which probably allowed the incident to escalate."
Kuroda, as always, picked at the wording. "Are you suggesting that we worth nothing without the prophet?"
"No. I still stand behind that the prophet wasn't actually involved this time."
Odagiri, a new addition to the task force, spoke up for the first time. "Instead of chopping the words meaninglessly, we should probe at whatever made us think the prophet might be involved. Is it a detail in the testimonies of the locals, or in the finery of other events?"
The inspector stood up. "I assume that all of the present are familiar with the bases of the incident. After Nishimoto-san was discovered dead at his house, it was assumed that the other two affiliated people would be targeted and given the lack of opportunities to call the police, a group of six took the perilous task of preventing further deaths upon themselves. According to the testimonies of those six spending the night in the community centre, a young man not likely to have the qualification and experience in handling trained assassins led them to victory and successfully contained the threat."
Kuroda sneered. "Kudo Shinichi, again."
The inspector nodded. "Kudo-kun admitted to his actions and named the prophet as the source of information. He claimed to have received ideas about taking care of the situation during that night at the community centre. Mouri-kun here questioned his resources but he avoided to answer directly."
Everyone was suddenly looking at him. He had to pick up the story.
"I did question him, though the first assailant breaking in during the conversation stopped me from pursuing the truth."
That seemed to satisfy the others.
Matsumoto sighed. "I take back my pervious statement. I was unaware of whatever the interrogation of the young detective revealed. We agree on the point that the prophet has a direct connection to that incident, however, the problem stays the same. Alike many of the present, I was active during the shadow decade. I have been involved in investigations on crime organisations willing to go lengths to cover their tracks, potentially silencing innocent people in their way. Rendering an entire island inhabitable has to be the most radical step any organisation has ever done. This is unheard of and has to be treated with the respective seriousness."
He hesitated whether to clear this topic or not, before deciding so.
"Due all respect, I think the arson was not a premedicated action on their side. After their attempt at finishing off their targets failed during the night, they made up on that during the morning when the people in question were about to be handed over to the police."
The inspector supported him. "I happened to witness that."
"Kudo pinpointed the location of the sniper committing the assassination and the four of me, him, my daughter and the inspector here rushed off in that direction. As the fire started after we went after the assassin, I think that setting the forest on fire might have been for slowing us down until they fled, presumably by the motorboat we encountered later on. Because of a trunk falling due to the fire, we were separated from the two teenagers."
Odagiri looked serious. "As long as their aims are met, they care little about collateral damage. It was truly fortunate that you two managed to evacuate the locals from the island in time, otherwise the incident would have ended in tragedy without a doubt."
Matsumoto chimed in. "May I ask how the children ended up in their dire conditions?"
The inspector was, fortunately for him, ready to answer that one. "Kudo-kun said that the two of them immediately tried to distance from the fire, as much as that was possible in their situation. They intended to wait for help on the shore, however, the fire was spreading too fast and help was nowhere in sight. They found the escape vehicle of the assassin on the shore and given their predicament, they tried to leave the island with that. What ended badly for them was failing to realise that the assassin was already on the motorboat when they approached it. He tried to kill them and we found them during their attempted escape."
He remembered what he was told in the hospital. He remembered how securely the unconscious teen was holding his daughter, ready to lay down his own life in protection of hers. Kudo was a magnificent liar, however, he knew that this was true.
He felt touched again.
Matsumoto digested the implications. "I assume the sketch on the board is of the assassin in question."
He looked at the drawing of a man with unruly hair falling into his face here and there, hiding the malice lingering behind his eyes. Even though police sketch artists were top notch at creating portraits alike photographs, the man had to be exceptionally intimidating to produce that look through second-hand experience.
The inspector nodded. "Kudo-kun has given a description of the man who attacked them. His information was found in no database despite being a rather conspicuous phenomenon, which is why we assume that the man is part of the underground society."
Odagiri folded his arms. "That is expected. A crime organisation of this kind employs all sort of people to do their dirty work. As evading police is part of their livelihood, professional assassins value their secrecy above all. I remember the Satsuki-goto, those killed more people to hide their activity than they did per their orders. I assume that the two teenagers were targeted because of seeing his face rather than taking part in an action against them."
Matsumoto sighed. "No other clues, then."
"I wouldn't say so. Just compare this sketch with the one from the testimonies of the officers at Tropical Land," Kuroda wracked the files towering on the desk at record speed and pinned a drawing highly similar to the one being discussed on the board. "I think this is enough to assume that the person making the deal then was the same person assassinating people this time, which would prove that the same organisation was involved in both incidents."
The inspector looked interested. "They indeed look the same."
"While there were unconnected cases of future prediction, we can't look over the fact that these two were the largest and escalated the most. I have a lingering suspicion that the prophet has something to do with this organisation. He is present every time it makes a move and wants their heads on a silver platter."
His ideas stroke him as familiar. His mind wandered back to that man in the hospital and the thought he had probed. He had mentioned the encounter to the inspector on a feasible occasion but the man had not been found. His suspicion turned towards the superintendent who was claiming the same opinion a day later, however, he stifled his thoughts for the time being. He had been thinking the same for a while, maybe others were on the same page as him too.
Matsumoto was quick to interrupt though. "This is speculation. He could have gone through the cases of the near future in a neat order and ended up meddling with the mentioned two. There is no evidence supporting that he took particular interest in any specific cases."
Kuroda was unfazed. "Whatever. I merely stated an idea."
Odagiri cut off the debate. "I suggest us to consider this incident as another instance of future prediction analysed by the police and the government. According to the official police report, three people formerly involved in drug smuggling were targeted by a crime organisation for breaking an assumed contract. After the first death, countermeasures were put into action by six people, out of which three have been involved in similar cases before. Kudo Shinichi, one of them, was revealed to have been contacted by the prophet. However, the prophet failed to see the events that followed the intervention, which led to the known outcome. I think this is agreeable."
Kuroda was intrigued. "That would mean that the prophet can only foresee premedicated actions."
"What do you mean by that?"
"You said that the prophet had failed to foresee the following events. I have to question the limits of this person. He seems to know about various cases about to happen all across the country, however, is apparently unable to count with the changes our own actions mean. While our discussions are focused on the practical implementations of the information that falls in our hands rather than the origins of this phenomenon, we need to establish a theory soon."
Matsumoto feigned patience. "Kudo-kun elaborated on that matter during one of the first meetings and the more time passes, his words are aging well. At this point, every crossed out logical option leaves space for personal views only. And our aim is not propagating those."
"Kudo Shinichi said that to lead the investigation away from that point."
"Again, this circle has dismissed the possibility of him being the prophet."
It took all his might not to snort loudly.
Odagiri had enough of the chattery. "We can hope to learn new information from the next case. A verified call from the prophet was addressed to the first division in this building yesterday evening. A new detective was the one to pick up the phone and notify his superiors right away. As the contents of the call were different compared to usual, this incident is brought to our attention and scheduled to discuss in the meeting. I suggest us to move to that."
Matsumoto accepted the change of topic. "In what sense was it different?"
"This one was a request of assistance from the police. Keep in mind that while we do assist him in preventing the crimes he predicts, we do it without him actually asking us for it. As we know, this is the first instance that he asked for help from the law enforcement."
The inspector tapped his chin. "I think it was searching for a person."
"Indeed. He asked us to find a woman called Hirota Masami."
Hirota Masami.
Kuroda wormed his way into the conversation again. "And no additional information attached. That sounds strongly different than anything else we have encountered so far. I think this might be an attempt to weave his ties stronger with the police by introducing a person in connection with himself. I think that the information that comes with this woman is so sensitive or personal that it makes him abandon his usual methods. We have to see for ourselves."
Odagiri, surprisingly, agreed. "I had similar thoughts on mind. I also consider the theory of personal connection plausible, otherwise he would have just stated the crime she would commit and had the case closed. However, we have a technical problem with it."
"A technical problem?"
"We ran the name through the database as soon as we got it, however, it turned out that there are seven people with that name in the country. Even if we narrowed that down to four, considering that our department was notified and not other prefectures, we have investigation to do before we can take action. Not only we have merely a name on our hands, we are unable to call in all of them for the sake of simplicity as there is no actual charge."
He was perplexed at the new revelation. He always assumed that whatever was told over the phone were definite details and that had been the case so far. Kudo had no personal connection to a woman of that name as far as he was concerned. Not even being a confidant from the future made any sense as the person in question, alike them, would have no recollection of the future he had come from. Maybe the caller himself had no idea that the information was indefinite. It sounded like the most probable answer unless the calculating teen had thrown the element of insecurity into the equation on purpose.
He should have pressed for more information back then.
Odagiri continued with the presentation of the potential 'suspects'.
"We have an entrepreneur in Yokohama, a bank clerk in Haido, a teacher in Kawaguchi and an office worker in Funabashi. Both their ages and family backgrounds are different and seem to have no connection to each other apart from their names. As they live in distant parts of the city and the day is about to end, I suggest us to conduct a proper investigation tomorrow. We have to visit and question each of them without giving away our purpose to those unrelated."
Matsumoto objected. "I find it a bad idea to postpone the investigation. So far, every phone call warned us about an undesirable event taking place within a day. If we leave this for tomorrow, we might be late with whatever we were supposed to assist. We owe a great number of lives to this person."
Kuroda countered. "However, there is no such prediction this time around."
The inspector added his own insight. "Also, questioning people while keeping the details in secret is quite difficult. I might be mistaken but making this bit of information public can help us a great deal with this case. It is possible that the intended person will come forth should the police request it."
"Unfortunately, the situation might not be that simple. If the organisation is involved this time too, I mean, assume the worst-case scenario, a police search can be a death warrant for her. I can imagine that they would silence her before she could even think about turning to the police. I know that there is no evidence that the organisation will be around here too but evidence is what this entire investigation is heavily lacking altogether. I wouldn't dismiss the possibility."
Matsumoto shot the idea down. "Again, your speculations."
Odagiri took a surprising stand. "I agree with the idea. Whether the organisation is involved or not, conducting a public search would be too conspicuous for an issue that even the prophet handles with great courtesy. Regardless the difficulties that might come with the task, we have to go through the suspects ourselves. I suggest us to start the investigation tomorrow morning, with the assistance of division one. I find this course of actions agreeable."
An entrepreneur, a bank clerk, a teacher and an office worker.
Hirota Masami was one of those four.
He walked out of the toilet with a relieved expression.
He had never thought that people could talk about who they could trust and who not. He admitted that it was an important point considering their line of work, however, what had gone down between the overly cautious police heads was meaningless bickering. As one had urged the total incorporation of the first division, claiming that more assistance would enable them to investigate more carefully, another had disapproved of the expansion, claiming that the less people involved, the better the secret kept. And there was always the third one whose whole existence had thrown a wrench into the arguments so that they would stuck there till next morning.
He and the inspector often shared a glance of common suffering, either from not having enough insight or having too much. He was disinterested in the internal affairs of the police, he had been a freelancer for ages, but he forced himself to stay to avoid raising suspicion with his apparent ignorance while noting down any important information for himself and the teen about to turn the world off the hinges—and who would be absent from the investigation for a while.
He looked around, drying his hands in the air.
He missed to notice the time flying. It had been dark outside when they had left the meeting room and the building was abandoned save for the couple of people staying in for the night. He had never seen the corridors of his old memories so devoid of life. In contrast of the artificial light illuminating the walls, night darkness welcomed his vision beyond the windows. He stopped next to one, looking down at the nightlights of the city behind his reflection.
He wondered if he really had to wait for the tomorrow.
He did not have the phone number of either the teen or his professor neighbour. And the visiting hours were over in the hospital, even in the section housing the two teenagers. If he thought about it logically, there was no choice other than joining the rest.
As he walked past the turn the end of which led to the office of the first division, a thought crossed his mind. He traced back his steps to the turn, carefully watching for anyone to enter or leave the premise. After a minute of nothing and the darkness lingering behind the loosely closed doors, he concluded that the members of the task force and the cleaning staff were likely the only people in the building. He approached the door with hands in his pockets, looking around once more before slipping through the door opened to a gap and closing it properly. He fumbled around a bit until he found the switch to the lights in the pitch black.
He saw several columns of desks weighted by heavy stacks of paperwork. A couple of sheets and pens were scattered here and there, the owners of the desks probably thinking that tiding up before a similarly exhausting day was meaningless. He placed the bag conspicuously lying in his way on a chair standing the closest to it and pushed it to its assumed place. However, he was not interested in the appearance of the office nor he had the right to make comments.
He rounded the desk of the inspector, silently praying that nobody would open the door on him. He pulled the landline phone in front of himself and made it recall all the previous calls in its memory. His attention was fixated on the dates, searching for one last night.
There it was.
He pushed the redial button.
He was listening intently to the ringtone pleasantly entertaining his ears. While he could not meet them personally or call their personal numbers, there was one availability he had access to in the police headquarters. It was none other than the cell phone number of the prophet.
He was still listening to the ringtone, starting to doubt that his impromptu stunt would come to fruition. It would not be surprising if they did not pick it up, considering how many times the police might have tried to redial the number before to trace it. He had heard that all attempts at tracing the calls of the prophet had been unsuccessful. As a time traveller, Kudo might have been able to build a science gadget to block the tracing devices. That, or he was using a card phone.
He wondered who would even answer the phone if one did. Kudo was in hospital and in no position to make any phone calls. His guess fell onto the professor, who might have been collaborating with the teen in keeping the prophet act flawless.
He heard a click. The line was on.
"This is me, Mouri Kogoro."
A very distorted voice came from the other end.
"Mouri-san? Why are you using this number? What happened?"
"You happened. Hirota Masami are four people all over the city. We have an entrepreneur, a bank clerk, a teacher and an office worker. I just got away from the task force meeting, we agreed to look up all these people tomorrow. You information is quite ambiguous and that sent things into a frenzy here."
A short silence, then some electronic sounds. "It has to be in the index, let's see—here it is. Hirota Masami, a bank clerk in Haido, involved in a bank robbery case as an accomplice due in two and a half weeks. After successfully stealing over a billion in cash, she and her two accomplices make an escape. However, one of those accomplices takes all the money by himself and the other two end up searching for him. Whoa—it says that she is involved with the organisation and is going to get killed for failing to deliver the money on deadline and later showing intentions of betrayal. I called because it was on schedule, what the actual hell."
He had so many questions about that monologue. He was fairly certain that he was talking with the professor, however, even that raised some questions. Even though a lot of data was available, the official phone call was only a name, not to mention that the professor sounded like to have encountered all that information for the first time too. And then, there was this index. He thought that it was likely a list of the future crimes so that the professor would not need to memorize everything. A makeshift solution for passing the task to a substitute, only that they would not have context about the incidents further down the line.
As he knew, the prophet never predicted anything further than a day from the time of the call. Defying his trend with bringing up a case happening in two and a half weeks, one of the key people in said case were put on radar way sooner than supposed.
Kudo wanted to find this person ahead of time for some reason.
He reduced his inner maelstrom into a confirmation.
"She is the bank clerk, then."
"Yes. We have to discuss this with Shin—him. If the organisation is going to be present—"
He thought to have heard a noise outside the door. Not wasting any time, he climbed under the desk of the inspector, receiver in hand. He was careful not to pull the line too hard so that the phone would stay on the desk. He covered the receiver until he confirmed the sound was away. To his misfortune, the sound was getting louder until it could have been made out as approaching footsteps and a cart rolling on the floor. He shifted in his position carefully.
Because of all moments, the cleaning lady had to choose this one to patrol the corridor.
The door opened promptly.
"These detectives, totally clueless about the electricity bill."
And thus, he was left in complete darkness and behind a locked door in seconds. He exhaled deeply to swallow the colourful words tempting to leave his mouth as he was trying to cook up an escape plan and regulating his voice so that it would not be obvious that he was likely to spend the night in an office in the police headquarters. He tried to concentrate on the better side of things. He could have been discovered and questioned about his phone conversation.
"—continue the investigation. It says she works in the sixth district."
"I wonder if me going there would help the situation at all."
"I would say that it matters little whether we talk with her tonight or tomorrow, though knowing him, he would send someone there as soon as possible. You can never know when they decide to make their move, he says. You should try making contact in my opinion."
He was thinking the same, even though two and a half weeks were exact. It was unlikely that anything would happen if he showed up this night, however, he had a feeling that it would be better to check on the situation. Not to mention the bank robbery, a billion was a lot of money. An experienced organisation would be the most likely to pull off a heist of that scale flawlessly. He was better off mapping the potential culprits right off the bat. He convinced himself with such thoughts to ignore the fact that the teen obviously harboured a hidden intention behind this case and this woman. He could only wonder about the hidden truth.
He turned to the receiver for a short notice before cutting the connection.
"I get it. You can count on me."
He just had to get out.
Sato was listening to her heels clopping on the floor at a fast pace while proudly holding the reason of her late stay. Her thoughts had been revolving around one rookie as she had taken her time to wait for the task force to conclude their endless discussion and borrow the files that they had been holding onto. Her steps slowed down, then stopped completely so that she could redirect her efforts from rushing out of the building before the alarm turned on into trying not to wrinkle the papers so much while stuffing them into her bag. As usually, when she successfully secured the condition of the valuable information, an irritating feeling of lack hit in.
Her coat was up in the godforsaken office.
Not wanting to catch a cold on the way home and render herself useless for the week to come, she quickly turned around and rushed towards the first division office. As far as she was concerned, the receptionist would turn the alarm on in ten minutes in the blocks where nobody was supposed to be. According to her calculations, it took her around three minutes to go up the stairs and down the corridor and the same for the way back, plus a measly one for fetching the coat from the office. Her situation would be more complicated if the office was locked though, that would make her find the cleaning staff—
Her heels screeched on the next turn as the intended floor was finally in sight.
"Sato-keiji, what a surprise! I thought you detectives have left for tonight."
Had she not been so focused, she would have noticed the cleaning lady before almost running into her. Her eyes quickly examined the situation, including the wet floor shining in the lamplight all the way from the corridor. Her realisation might have been late but her stubbornness was persistent.
"Akae-san! I left something important in the office."
"Your coat, right?"
A bundle of shiny objects was flying towards her that she caught with relative ease.
"Here you go, the keys. Lock the door and give it to the receptionist after!"
After nodding a quick thanks to the cleaning lady understanding the humiliating moments of forgetfulness even the sharpest of minds suffer from, she swiftly moved on the office. Her fingers twisted the key in the lock with experienced speed and was about to fetch her coat and leave without actually looking when her senses registered an unknown, indefinite object flashing in the corner of her vision. Her entire being was on immediate alert at the irregularity.
She took a couple of hesitant steps towards the darkness reigning in the office. Her eyes trailed the edges of the furniture slipping into obscurity in search for the flash she thought to have seen previously, however, they missed the lack of proper illumination. For turning on the lights and calling quits in this unreasonable hide-and-seek, she would have had to turn her back to that flash too. As an intermediate solution, she traced her steps backwards where the only source of light from the corridor fell into the premise, hand extended to meet the switch on the wall should she arrive to the door.
Nothing happened.
She wondered if her mind was playing tricks on her. As she had been working hard lately, even dreaming with alibies and murder weapons, she was perhaps a little exhausted. An alert part of her persisted though, and convinced her that it was real. That made her wonder who in their right mind would break into the police headquarters at this hour—even if the choice of time was reasonable. Nobody was around minus a few people and the alarm was not on.
Her ears picked up faint sounds of something moving on the floor but her face was straight. She planned to lure the person hiding in the darkness into a false sense of security and make them go for a break in the misconception that their actions would take her by surprise.
It worked.
Her arms wrapped around the figure attempting to rush past her in a strict restraining manner. He, because it definitely felt like a grown man, struggled against her grip and even tried to shift the balance on his side and throw her over his shoulders. He was apparently familiar with some form of martial art, presumably judo. Not wasting time and opportunities, she kicked him in the knees from behind and threw him backwards in a german supplex. After making him see stars with knocking his head against the floor, she loosened her hold and stood up while stretching a little. Her surprise was stirred for the second time that day upon casting incriminating light on the intruder.
Mouri Kogoro was sprawled out on the floor, with comical dizziness.
"Mouri-san! Mouri-san, wake up."
"So, you wanted to check something in the office, got your sorry ass locked up and was hoping that someone would come back so that you could leave. You also want to check on a person working in a downtown bank for an undisclosable reason, as soon as possible."
Kogoro showed his best innocent face to the female detective while nursing the bump on his head, attempting to convince her that despite the ambiguous ring to it, his intentions are clear and are for the good of the public. He had to dump the second part for the day, having successfully messed up according to the first part. He was lowkey planning to pay a visit to the professor and talk certain pressing points through properly, mentally tracing the route to the unmistakably large mansion the celebrity couple had left for their teenage son and recalling the surroundings, while keeping himself look keen to explain his suspicious behaviour.
"You should have started with that instead of trying to sneak away."
"I'm sorry for that."
"You have to forget about that person tonight, with all the banks closed and all."
He stood up, feeling the dizziness return. He might have taken a knock quite hard there. He walked past her without a hitch, meaning that she would probably be able to overlook this humiliating occasion of his lack of competence. He turned back to ask to be on the safe side.
"I can go free, I assume."
"I will mention this to the inspector tomorrow but yes, you can."
As he was about to walk out of the office with a small amount of inner peace returning to his mind, an alarm went off in the building. He knew that the source was not the office, it would have been much louder otherwise, but he did not know what it was or what did it warn for. His first guess was that he had stayed for so long that the alarm for the building had been turned on, however, the detective was with him too and on a second thought, he could not have been locked up that long.
Sato, was it, apparently shared the same thoughts with an additional information.
"This is not us. The alarm went off somewhere in town."
A screech through the reception. A radio crackling.
"Emergency call to all units. A break in occurred in Haido Bank, Haido city sixth district. I repeat, a break in occurred in Haido Bank, Haido city sixth district. All patrol cars are to head towards the scene as soon as possible and apprehend the culprits. No potential hostages. Over."
Published: 06/11/2022
And the second arc officially started. Aka, goodbye canon.