"Play the video," said Near.

Light leaned forward in his seat, methodically dissecting the image for clues. A girl's face filled most of the screen—round, tear-streaked, unmistakably Japanese—reading a news report in stammering, hesitant English. On a small television behind her, a blonde newscaster's mouth moved silently, the red chyron blaring the words FBI REPORTS NO PROGRESS IN TSUKIKAWA KIDNAPPING. She isn't gagged, at least, Light thought grimly, his insides twisting like snakes. Dad would say this is my fault, probably. I know that Sayu would.

And Mom—

Light pushed that thought away.

"That's enough." A harsh, mechanical voice interrupted the girl, and she jumped in obvious fear. "Now read the other."

With trembling hands, the girl picked up a piece of paper and switched to Japanese. "Good morning. My name is Haru Tsukikawa. I am alive and well and cared for. The people taking care of me aren't monsters, and they aren't criminals. They are just ordinary citizens fed up with the lies and mistreatment of their government. For nine years, we've been asked to believe without proof that Kira is dead and that our government isn't using his powers in secret. Even after other, similar killings have happened, our leaders have refused to tell us the truth or even announce what steps they're taking to stop it from happening again. There is no reason not to release the information we're asking for. Not unless you have something to hide. These people here with me didn't want to take these desperate measures, but nine years of silence is too much. Please give them what they ask for before the time runs out. If you don't, you—you—" Her round face crumpled like tissue paper. "Please, sir, I can't do this. I can't."

"Stop crying, you idiot," the mechanical voice spat. "Just read the paper like I told you, all right?"

"Please. I didn't do anything, I want to go home—"

"I said, read. Don't make me stop the video and come over there, huh?"

Light's grip on his pen tightened, his nails digging deep into his palm. Onscreen, the sobbing girl flinched back in terror, raising her script to her eyes once more.

"If you don't, you will never—you will never see me again alive. A government should protect its people, not murderers, and your people deserve the truth you've been hiding from them. Choose wisely."

The screen cut abruptly to black. Gevanni shut the video off with a grimace. "That chyron ran on CNN this morning, and the article is from the front page of today's New York Times."

"A national paper like that won't narrow our search," said Near. "All it does is confirm she's alive."

"Assuming this hasn't been deepfaked," Lidner said gravely.

"Making a deepfake this convincing would take more time than they appear to have had. I see no reason not to assume the video is genuine." Near set another matchstick atop his growing tower, his expression grave. "Does anyone have any ideas?"

"It's the same setup as the first video," said Rester. "They haven't moved."

"Or they have, and took the backdrop with them," said Lidner. "Either way, they've been thorough. There's nothing visible in the background we could use to pinpoint where they are."

"You talked to the FBI and NPA heads already," said Rester. "How are they reacting to this?"

"Less productively than I hoped. But for now, at least, both countries are holding firm." Near peered at Light through his curtain of hair. "You must have some thoughts."

Too many. Light looked down at his empty notepad, his lip between his teeth. "Just a hunch. Nothing I can prove."

"I still want to hear it."

"The kidnappers are trying to portray themselves as vigilantes for the public interest—populist, well-intentioned, just a group of like-minded citizens asking questions. But the way they've pulled this off doesn't match that; it's too methodical, too practiced, and even an idiot knows threatening to murder a child isn't the way to win public support. These aren't amateurs. They just want us to believe they are."

"I agree," said Near. "This video confirms it. We're dealing with organized crime."

"What are the odds the kidnappers know about the notebook?" asked Gevanni.

"High," said Near. "They're following Mello's playbook, and the only reason I can see for all this ideological pretense is to provide the government a fig leaf for complying with their demands. After what Mello did to the rest of the SPK and to President Hoope, the U.S. would never openly hand Kira information over to something like the Mafia, hostage or no hostage."

"The NPA took losses, too," Lidner pointed out.

Every eye in the room flicked to Light. Swallowing his discomfort, he put on a tight-lipped smile. "Not as many as the Mafia did. But if there are a few people still out there who know or suspect what Mello had, it wouldn't surprise me at all."

"I'll reach out to the FBI," said Rester. "See what they have on any groups with Mafia ties operating in the area where the kidnapping took place."

Light shook his head. "Just asking around isn't going to be enough of a progress update to satisfy the NPA, especially once they learn we suspect Mafia involvement. It wasn't Mello who killed Director Takimura, but they don't know that. For that matter, I doubt the kidnappers know it either."

The three agents exchanged glances at the admission, but Near's expression didn't change. "They'll have to grumble quietly, then."

"Or we could offer them something more. Tell the president and prime minister to make a joint televised statement that, as a show of good faith, all Kira investigation documents not deemed damaging to national security will be released to the kidnappers in digital batches every two days from now until the deadline. They can then urge the kidnappers to call off the deadline and continue negotiating instead."

"Do you really think that will work?" asked Lidner.

"Oh, absolutely not. They're after the location of the notebook, not transcripts of crank calls to FBI hotlines from fifteen years ago. But having to sort through that many old documents for release will give the NPA and FBI something to do besides wring their hands and breathe down our necks—and as we all learned from Libra, sometimes you can get far more information from sending files than receiving them."

"They'll be suspecting a Trojan horse the moment they see the broadcast," said Near.

"The first time out, yes. That's why we'll send the files in batches. If the first set are clean and legitimate, they're far less likely to be suspicious of the second. If we toss a few forged emails in the first batch hinting that powerful people in both governments were advised that Kira's power had a physical source and that there were plans being made to keep it, the kidnappers might not be as thorough before opening up the second set. I'm sure the FBI has people and programs that could exploit that sort of opening. I know for a fact the NPA does." Light drummed his fingers on the table. "It's worth a shot, at least."

"You're not giving us much time to pivot if they don't bite," said Lidner. "Even if we know immediately whether your Trojan horse worked, that's only two days before the deadline."

"We've worked on tighter deadlines," said Gevanni. "Trying to leave ourselves more time at the end will just leave us less time to make the forgeries convincing."

Light nodded, curving his lips into a strained smile. "Near figured out how to beat me in less than two days, and I refuse to believe this is as tough a case. It'll be enough."

"There's no reason you have to wait, either," said Rester. "If we, the feds, and the NPA are working on everything else, you and Near can use the next few days to focus on—"

"There's no need for that, Rester." Near's voice had an edge to it, quiet but sharp. "However much he admires my past victories, Light wouldn't gamble his family's safety on my improvisation—or his own, at that. If he's being so cavalier about the deadline, he already has a plan."

As one, all eyes turned to Light. Casually, almost sheepishly, he shrugged. "I have some ideas. I wouldn't call them a firm plan."

"Let's hear them, then."

"Right now, we should all be focused on Plan A. As Gevanni says, we don't have much time to pull off a—"

"No. You know what's at stake here. Fully-fledged plan or not, you wouldn't hide your ideas from the team like this unless you knew I would object."

His gray eyes met Light's, heavy as stones—and for once, Light looked away first. He knows me too well for this, damn him. I should have known better. "Maybe so."

"Light." Rester's voice was grave. "What is it you want to do?"

'Want' isn't the word I would use. "If they don't fall for it the first time, we can use an analog version of the same trick. All it would take is offering them a physical prize valuable enough to be worth releasing the girl."

Gevanni frowned. "If you think we have something that strong to trade, why didn't you suggest that first?"

"Not something. A prisoner exchange. Whatever interest the government has in keeping their handling of Kira a secret, they've made it clear they don't have the same interest in shielding me."

"Absolutely not." Near jerked his hair viciously. "Put that thought out of your mind."

"If we get that close to the deadline without results or a plan, the Japanese government is going to out me whether you want them to or not. You know that. At that point, better to reduce the damage by taking control of the leak ourselves."

Lidner shook her head. "Japan can expose your identity. They can't expose the fact you're alive. We can have protective identities ready to go for your family without throwing all of us to the wolves."

"Two days is enough time to hide the evidence that you three knew I was alive, and they can't get to Near unless he lets them. It wouldn't be ideal, but—"

Near's voice crackled like a damaged record. "I said no."

"I don't like it any more than you do, but you have to admit, it makes the most sense. I'm pretty sure you've already got some sort of tracker in me, so taking me with them would lead you directly to their hideout no matter what precautions they try to take. I'm a good enough liar to keep them talking in circles until the cavalry arrives."

"That's not the issue," said Gevanni, in hushed, uncomfortable tones. "You know it isn't."

"I doubt they would jump straight to torture, and they couldn't get anything out of me even if they did. I'll talk to Ryuk the next time he comes to collect his bribe, convince him to stick around and tag along. If things get too dicey, I'll give up the notebook and make myself useless. It won't be the first time I've pulled that trick, and you can just give it back to me after—"

Slam.

Near lifted his hand from the ruins of his tower, his eyes blazing behind his curtain of hair. "They will kill you."

"Not a chance. I'm worth too much to them for that."

"When the FBI raids the kidnappers, you'll be arrested with the rest. They will try you, they will convict you, and they will kill you. I know that, and so do you."

I know. Light's hands clenched beneath the table, hard as boulders. "I'm willing to take that risk."

"Light—"

"I know what I'm gambling, all right? Believe me, I do. Even if we catch these kidnappers, it won't stop people from asking questions about Kira—and the harder you push for protecting my anonymity, the more they'll start aiming those questions at you. I can name at least ten people who know both that I'm Kira and that I survived, and even if they have reasons to keep quiet about it, all the doctors and officers who've come in here to help me don't. Which option gives me a better chance at survival, hm? All of us being arrested in some FBI raid you didn't foresee? Or turning myself in to help save the Prime Minister's daughter and asking for a deal?"

"It doesn't matter what you would gamble," snapped Near. "This is my investigation. I said no."

"I'm part of your team. Don't I get a say in—?"

"I will not disband my team and make myself a fugitive so that you can commit suicide by cop. When you have a real backup plan, let me know." Near rose to his feet, his eyes wild. "Meeting adjourned."

"Goddamn it, Nate, that's not—"

"Meeting adjourned."

Light stood as well, still determined to argue, but Near fled the room without a backward glance. With a quiet snarl, Light flung himself back down in his chair. "So much for valuing my input."

"Should one of us go after him?" Gevanni asked quietly.

Lidner shook her head. "If he's not back in half an hour—"

"You two just keep working on that video," said Rester. "I'll handle this."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

Light stared at the table as the agents left, bitterness churning in his stomach like a storm. Rester closed the door behind them and turned to Light. "How long have you been planning this?"

"It was just an idea."

"You were pushing it awfully hard for 'just an idea.' "

Light said nothing. At the corner of his vision, he saw Rester watching him, his thumbs hooked into the pockets of his pants. I wish he were Roger, Light thought abruptly, and old grief spilled like scalding coffee through his mind. After a moment, Rester shook his head and sighed.

"What about Julia?" he asked.

"What about her?"

"Say we use your idea. You wind up arrested. Stephen, Halle, and I have to leave and pretend we never met you. Near goes into hiding alone. What happens to Julia, Light?"

"Near can take her with him."

"Alone?"

"He could ask someone from Wammy's House to help. I assume that's where he would go next, anyway."

"After publicly burning down L's legacy and with at least two nations trying to hunt him down? Too many people know about Wammy's House. That's the last place he would go."

Chagrined, Light chewed his lip. "He could figure something out."

"He could. That's not the point. You didn't stop to think about how this would affect anyone but yourself, did you?"

"I didn't think about a lot of things. That's exactly why I didn't want to say anything until I'd had time to finalize the plan. If Near hadn't shut me down completely instead of helping—"

"Can you really blame him?"

"Of course I can! I'm offering to face execution to save that girl's life, and he's pissed off that he might have to move?"

"Look at it from his perspective. He spent his childhood in orphanages, foster homes, or chasing Kira across the map, but he's had this team and a stable home for almost his entire adult life. Now you—the same man who forced him to leave Wammy's House too young in the first place—are asking him to upend his life again. If I had to guess, dying would terrify him less." Rester folded his arms, giving Light a pointed look. "And then, of course, there's the obvious."

"The obvious?"

"You. Don't pretend you haven't noticed. Ever since you came back from London, his primary social pursuit has been you."

I've noticed. "I wouldn't call that much of a pursuit. I have nowhere to run."

"Light."

"What do you want me to say? 'I'm flattered to rank so highly among his hobbies?' I've done a lot more for him than he had any right to expect, given—" —the circumstances of our relationship, Near's voice finished in his memory, and Light pinched his lips shut in irritation. "Given our history. He's my warden, and he's my boss. Nothing more."

"That's not how he sees you."

"How he sees me is his problem. We're colleagues, not family. Beyond my work performance, I don't owe him a damn thing."

Rester sighed. "From what I've seen, you don't seem to think you owe your family much, either."

Stung, Light spun his chair to face Rester head-on. "This isn't easy for me, all right? I'm trying to get their lives back to normal as soon as possible, and talking to Sayu didn't exactly help. If Near thinks my ideas are bad now, I don't want to know how unfocused I'll be once my mother has the chance to curse my name, too."

"She won't."

"You don't know that."

"I do. Your sister left her husband and son behind to come here. If your mother shared her feelings, they would both have stayed behind. They didn't. I'm guessing you've reasoned that out, too." Rester's voice was quiet, almost gentle. Light flinched at it, all the same. "You're afraid to tell her, aren't you?"

"You'll have to be a bit more specific. I've got no shortage of secrets I never wanted her to know. Just because Near took most of that out of my hands doesn't obligate me to tell her the rest."

"Near was trying to protect them."

"So am I!"

"By turning yourself over, revealing the exact information we're trying to hide? How would that be protecting them, Light?"

"For the last time, it was just an idea. If Near doesn't want to hear my ideas, then maybe he shouldn't have asked." Seething, Light looked up at the darkened screen. "This mess may be my responsibility, but the lack of good options isn't my fault. I didn't ask for Janus, I didn't ask for Libra, and I sure as hell didn't ask for this. Do you think I want to go back in a cell, Rester? Do you think I want to die?"

"I think you'd rather your sister see you as a dead hero again than shun you while you live. If you can't see that that's skewing your thinking, then you're lying to yourself."

Light bristled. "Near never told me you were a therapist."

"I took a few psychology classes in undergrad, back in the time of the dinosaurs. Wouldn't call myself a professional by any stretch."

"Neither would I. Luckily, I don't need one."

"Mm." To Light's annoyance, Rester ignored the barb. "Are you familiar with the English word 'catharsis?' "

"Vaguely."

"It's got a few different definitions in different fields, but psychologically, it's the idea that some emotions can get too overwhelming to cope with. That people need an active way to vent some of it out of them before the pressure gets to be too much. Yelling to release anger, for instance, or kids letting off excitement by running around. It's not something people consciously want, necessarily, but it can often be a need. And when the emotion is something like guilt, well…sometimes, the easiest release valve isn't something you do, but what happens to you. If you follow my reasoning."

I do. "So being punished is for my own benefit, and I secretly want it to happen," Light said drily. "That's a convenient belief for a prison guard."

"I won't pretend I've ever understood what goes on inside your head—or Near's, for that matter. But you're not a man who does things without a reason, whatever that reason may be. If you went to talk to the woman who tried to break down a door to scream at you, but you're avoiding the one who cooked you a peace offering and greeted you with a hug, there's a reason. I think maybe you should ask yourself what it is."

"I appreciate the advice." Light dragged his good hand down his face, then got wearily to his feet. "I suppose you want me to go talk to Near."

"Maybe later. For now, you should probably give each other space."

"Fine by me. If it's all the same to you, I'd like to go back to my room for a while."

Rester smiled. "Don't get too comfortable. Your Trojan horse plan is a good one. Once Near's had a chance to calm down again, I'll get us all started on that."

"That might take days."

"Then we'll start without him. As for you—"

"Offline work only. I know."

"I was going to tell you to keep working on backup plans. But if you have time to help forge the fake Kira documents, too, we'd be glad to have you."

As if that weren't an order. "I have time."

"Good." Rester set his hand on Light's shoulder. "We've still got six days left, and we've worked on tighter limits than this. We're going to figure this out, Light. Don't get desperate on us yet."

It was just an idea, Light wanted to scream, but he knew there was no point. Shrugging off Rester's reassurance, he pushed the meeting room door ajar.