Puppet Master vol.1

  Alerted by a detective's loud voice booming down the corridor, Takegami rushed out of the office, Shinozaki hot on his heels. They reached the meeting room just in time to see the screen switch from the phone-in studio to the main studio.

  　“Our guy's called in?” Takegami almost shouted, his eyes fixed on the screen. “Where? Which phone?”

  　“It's just now been connected to the phone on stage in the studio.”

  　“Anyone videoing it?”

  　“I've got it,” said Shinozaki, leaning forward and turning the volume up.

  　The tense-faced anchor picked up the receiver and said, excessively theatrically, “Hello?”

  　“Hello!” came the machine-like voice.

  　“He called the information hotline,” a detective said next to Takegami. “It was during the commercial break. They've been scrambling and just managed to put it through.”

  　Even now white subtitles moved along the bottom of the screen, giving the hotline number and advising, Phones ringing off the hook!

  　“Good evening, Mr. Sakisaka,” the voice greeted the anchor. “I've been watching all along. Very interesting.”

  　The anchor looked completely out of his depth, his hand shaking as he gripped the receiver. “Um, so who are you?”

  　“Me? I haven't got a name.”

  　It was the same voice Takegami had listened to over and over again on the tapes. It was him, no doubt about it.

  　The anchor took a deep breath, and forged ahead. “Earlier, when you called our hotline, you said you were the killer. You said you'd called because there was something you wanted to say, didn't you?”

  　The voice laughed merrily. “Yes I did say that. Although nobody believed me.”

  　“Were you telling the truth?”

  　“What would you do if I said I was lying?” There was a murmur around the studio.

  　“Okay, so you're the killer.”

  　“Good, I'm glad we've got that settled. But I'm anonymous.” He laughed again. “I'm even more anonymous than that Mr. T you're hiding behind that screen there, even though it's supposed to be a live broadcast.”

  　The camera showed a close-up of the silhouetted Mr. T, who was sitting leaning forward toward the anchor, as were the commentators.

  　“Would you mind telling us what it was you wanted to talk about?”

  　“You're being awfully polite to me. Are you sure you should be? After all, I've done some horrible things to women─I must be the most hated person in the country now.”

  　“Although we don't know that you really are the killer or not.”

  　“You're no better than the police, are you? You're no better than the police you've been making fools of.”

  　In the corner of the screen the assistant director could be seen holding up a big piece of paper with something written on it for the anchor. The camera wobbled as someone ran across the edge of the screen.

  　“Anyway, I called to talk to Mr. T,” the voice continued. “There's something I want to ask him. Bring him out to the phone.”

  　The anchor's eyes swam. He looked desperately around the studio for any kind of instruction from the staff.

  　The critic spoke out loudly, as if coming to his aid. “Look, everyone in this studio can hear your voice. Plus, you must be watching this on TV right now, right? So why don't you just address your questions to him?”

  　On the other side of the screen, Mr. T shifted in his seat as if readying himself.

  　“You shouldn't be trying to throw him a lifeline,” the voice said mockingly. “I want to drag that Mr. T out from his hiding place behind the screen. I want to show everyone in their living rooms all around the country what this guy looks like─the sort of guy who can't do anything himself but presumes to ride on someone else's fame.”

  　“What's the bastard trying to do now?” muttered Shinozaki.

  　He wants to do a deal, thought Takegami at the same moment. A deal like that one he proposed to Arima, before.

  　“And I'll offer something in exchange,” said the voice. “But only to big shot Mr. T, that is.”

  　Takegami folded his arms and narrowed his eyes, staring at the screen. He felt the words the caller had uttered just a moment ago slowly sink to the deepest part of his brain and settle there, securing their place in his memory … what this guy looks like─the sort of guy who can't do anything himself but presumes to ride on someone else's fame. It was a strange sort of thing to say in this situation, and was designed to ridicule and belittle the person it was aimed at. Wasn't it the sort of thing you'd spit at someone jumping on the bandwagon of another's accomplishment? The killer appeared to be boasting about the murders as something great, something that ordinary people couldn't do. So did that mean he saw them as a way to prove himself, a bit like mountaineers who take on the highest peaks around the world, maybe? Like athletes who try to beat existing world records? Therefore, when some other person came along trying to steal his limelight, he couldn't simply ignore it.

  　“Mr. T, are you listening? I'm talking to you.”

  　Behind the partition Tagawa was clearly nervous at being addressed by the voice. The camera closed in on his body from his shoulders down. The jiggling had become more pronounced and it even looked as if the screen itself were shaking.

  　“What is it you'd like to say?” the anchor asked, desperately trying to stop his voice from rising to a falsetto. “What do you mean by an ‘exchange’?”

  　“It's very simple,” the voice said. “I want Mr. T to show himself now on live TV. I want him to tell everyone his name, too.”

  　The crime-fiction author, who had been scowling as he listened, broke in, “If Mr. T complies, will you also reveal yourself? Will you tell us your name?”

  　The voice cackled, the voice changer giving it a spacey tone, like a crazed alien villain in an old sci-fi movie. “That sort of criminal might appear in the kind of boring, opportunistic novels you write, but I'm not that dumb.”

  　This raised an embarrassed laugh around the studio. The author's face remained serious, showing no sign of being fazed by the taunt, but he must have been annoyed to see a young female assistant standing at the side of the screen chuckling.

  　“So what are you proposing? If Mr. T reveals his identity here, what will you give in exchange?” the anchor asked, clutching onto the mic. He reminded Takegami of a fisherman battling with a big catch. The voice clearly had the upper hand here. He must feel good about having taken over the airwaves with just a single phone call.

  　New subtitles scrolled across the bottom of the screen: We are not accepting any calls or faxes at present. However, the hotline phones were still ringing and sounded even louder than before.

  　“I wonder if HBS is tracing the call?”

  　“I doubt it. They probably can't. And he's probably calling from his cell phone again anyway,” Shinozaki said, shaking his head.

  　“My part of the exchange is very simple,” the voice went on. “Simple, but valuable.”

  　“What is it?”

  　“The woman whose arm was found in Okawa Park.”

  　The screen abruptly switched to the commercials.

  “I don't believe it!” exploded Shoji, throwing down the remote. “It was just getting interesting! What a time to switch to the ads.”

  　At his side, Shigeko exhaled and reached for a cigarette. “It's not their fault. The timing of commercials─which ones are shown in which programs, when and for how long─it's all computerized and they can't suddenly change it in the studio.”

  　“But what if the killer gets upset and hangs up? It'll be HBS's fault if that happens.”

  　It's not HBS's job to catch the killer, thought Shigeko. He just happened to call in. Also, they had the right to protect their sources, and weren't even obliged to report this to the police. But Shoji did have a point. The bastard probably would get angry at being interrupted─not least because
it was just at the crucial moment when he was saying what his part of the exchange would be. The ads seemed to drag on forever, and were followed by a recap of the program sponsors, as per usual for prime-time TV. Then came the announcement of the sponsors for the next part of the program. It was never ending.

  　Finally it switched back to the studio. The anchor's face was as white as a sheet.

  　“I must apologize to all our viewers,” the anchor said, his voice contrite.

  　Takegami was practically tearing his hair out, while around the meeting room other detectives were tutting loudly and groaning.

  　Apparently, as soon as the ads had come on, the killer had shouted, “You aren't taking me seriously, are you?” and hung up. It sounded a bit like a child having a tantrum, but that kind of behavior was in keeping with what they knew of him.

  　“They've gone and done it now!” Takegami said.

  　“You'd have thought they'd at least have been able to deal with a phone call.”

  　“I wonder whether he'll call back at all?”

  　“Probably not tonight, anyway.”

  　“Just when he was about to return the body.”

  　That wasn't all, thought Takegami. He'd have been doing the investigation a great favor by returning the body, although he didn't say this aloud. The HBS anchor wasn't the only one wrestling with the big fish on the end of his line.

  　The program was showing repeats of the moment the call had been cut off. In between, the camera cut to the hotline studio where the phones were ringing like crazy, probably angry viewers calling in. Behind the screen Tagawa's silhouette looked much calmer than before. He was likely the only one who felt relieved when the killer hung up.

  　What a pity, thought Takegami. He would have loved to see how Tagawa responded to the killer's proposition. It would have given them more information about the killer, and also about Tagawa. And it might also have revealed something about the relationship between them─were they complete strangers, or accomplices? Or possibly connected in some way other than this case? They might have been able to get some kind of clue from how things transpired.

  　Takegami left to go back to his own desk. He'd only got halfway down the corridor before Shinozaki came running after him, calling, “Detective Takegami, he's called again!”

  　As he rushed back into the room, the anchor was clutching the mic fixed to his collar and talking.

  　“If you promise not to allow us to be interrupted like that again,” said the voice, “then we can continue our little chat.”

  　The anchor promised that they would not switch to a commercial break again. Takegami didn't know whether they'd be able to keep that promise or not, but he was sure they must be desperately working on it. If the killer was interrupted again, whoever was in charge of the program would almost certainly find himself without a job.

  　“As I was saying, these are my terms: Mr. T has to reveal his identity live on TV. In exchange, I will return the rest of the body that goes with that arm.”

  　“Are you sure you'll keep your promise?”

  　“I give my word. After all, I proposed it.”

  　“Mr. T, this is the situation. What do you think?” the anchor asked, turning to the figure behind the screen.

  　The two commentators immediately protested, as if they'd been just waiting for the opportunity.

  　“Isn't that asking too much of him? You're putting all the responsibility onto Mr. T.”

  　“You have to protect Mr. T's rights too, you─”

  　“Aren't you forgetting something more important than his rights?” the voice cut in.

  　“And what might that be?” The critic was ready for a fight, her eyes flashing belligerently. “You've got a pretty high opinion of yourself, haven't you? Skulking around killing people─and defenseless women at that. Then calling in like this and shooting your mouth off. Only the lowest kind of scumbag would do that. You're just a coward─the worst kind.”

  　“So you mean it'd be fine if I killed grown men rather than helpless women?” the voice said. “Is that what you're recommending I do?”

  　Hadn't the guy said something like that before? Takegami thought he remembered having read it in a report. Yes, that's right, it had been when he called Arima─no, not Arima, the guy who worked in his shop. If it's a full-grown man who dies next, then you're to blame, buddy.

  　The critic wasn't giving in yet. “You're trying to threaten me, I suppose, but that won't get you anywhere with me.”

  　“I'm not threatening you. I never asked to speak with a self-styled critic like you in the first place.”

  　“What did you just call me?”

  　“So tell me, what exactly do you think you're critiquing anyway? What gives you the right to speak so high and mightily about the way things are? Seriously, I'd like to know.”

  　Listening to them argue, Takegami suddenly felt a chill run down his spine. Something had changed. The way the guy argued hadn't changed, and neither had his cynical opinion of the media and the police. It was the same voice, and the way he talked was the same too. But something had changed. The difference was subtle, but it was definitely there. The person who'd angrily hung up after being disturbed by the commercial break and the person bickering with the critic now were not the same.

  　“It's someone else, isn't it?” he decided to voice his thoughts. “Something's different. The person speaking has changed.”

  　“You mean the killer?” Shinozaki asked in surprise. “Maybe. I don't get that feeling, though.”

  　“You're imagining things, Gami,” said another of the detectives. “You think there's another guy out there who quibbles about everything like this?”

  　Maybe he was mistaken. He couldn't be sure. The investigation team was still divided between parallel theories of it being a sole killer, or a group of accomplices. It was highly unusual for abductions with a sexual motive to be committed by a group─and there were actually no cases where it had progressed to murder. Because of this, most of the detectives favored the theory of one perpetrator working alone. However, there was nothing conclusive to support it, and some of the detectives thought there must be more than one perpetrator given the killer's mobility. This was why Tagawa hadn't been completely discounted as a suspect, despite his alibi for a crucial moment in the case having checked out.

  　“Anyway, this isn't getting us anywhere. The issue here is Mr. T. I'd like to hear it from him: is he going to accept my proposal or not? Which is it to be?

  　On the other side of the partition, Tagawa was shaking violently. There was nowhere for him to hide, the screen his only shield. Nobody in the studio audience was on his side now. Still he didn't move. Even when the anchor spoke to him, he didn't answer.

  　“It's your chance to be a hero, Mr. T,” the voice said. “Plus, you seem to be underestimating the media, so let me give you a bit of advice. For the moment you've been assigned the role of victim, falsely suspected by the police who are under pressure to catch the killer, just because of your criminal record. But that's not going to last, you know. You're not entirely a scapegoat─everyone knows you merited suspicion. The TV station might have invited you in to mount the victim's podium, but once you've fulfilled that purpose they'll slam the door shut and abandon you to your fate.”

  　Takegami was impressed in spite of himself. The killer was right. Anyone with half a brain would realize that was true, but it wasn't easy to put it into words.

  　“You'd be better off taking the chance I'm giving you─at least you could go some way toward redeeming yourself and even become something of a hero.”

  　Tagawa's bent-over silhouette trembled. It looked as though he was getting to his feet. Takegami leaned forward.

  　“Good man,” the voice cheered. “That's the ticket.”

  　“Idiot,” said Shinozaki. “Is he really going to do it? Doesn't he understand what that means?”

  　Tagawa stood
up. The announcer hurriedly stopped him. “Mr. T, are you sure you want to do this?”

  　Tagawa sat down again. But Takegami could see that he was clearly still tempted by the promise of being a hero. There was a certain type of person who could be motivated to commit some terrible action not by passion or egotism or money, but by the desire to be the big guy. Beating someone to death after a quarrel, stabbing another car driver to death after a road-rage incident, or dragging someone out onto the platform and pushing him onto the tracks just because he'd complained about you smoking on the train─all of these were motivated by this desire. I'm the one, I'm different from everyone else, you should be scared of me, the big bad hero, how dare you defy me? All you miniscule little bugs crawling around, you should prostrate yourselves before me, the hero. Tagawa's present role, as an unjustly persecuted victim, was basically a manifestation of the hero as martyr.

  　That's why Tagawa was going to show himself, Takegami was certain of it. He kept his eyes fixed on the hunched-over figure behind the screen.

  　“You have the power to decide the fate of that woman, the one whose arm was found,” the voice said. “Whether or not she can come home depends entirely on what you choose to do, Mr. T.”

  　He was speaking extraordinarily calmly for such a climactic moment, Takegami thought. Somehow this just didn't feel right. Wasn't it a different person? It didn't seem like the same guy as before, or from all the previous calls. That guy had put up a front of being calm and composed, but when it came to the crunch he had always become heated, losing his cool and speaking more roughly. At times he'd become almost hysterical, like when he'd forced Arima to say he was a pathetic, dirty old man. But this caller was different. He was much more─what? Mature, that was it. Much more mature.

  　“You should really accept my proposal,” the voice continued persuasively. “You'll only regret it later if you don't.”

  　Behind the screen, Tagawa's head jerked up. “If I go and stand in front of the camera, will you really return that woman's body?” he asked, talking into the mic.