ones could house a thousand kids and a bunch of whack-job cultists. As soon as the thought struck her, she realized it wasn’t especially clever. Furukawa must have thought of it already, and performed the same process of elimination she would have carried out, except much faster, with many more resources. The only question was how much he was willing to share with Mariko.
“Have you found him already?” she asked.
“No.”
“If you had, would you tell me?”
“Of course.”
It was a stupid question and a hollow answer; if he was lying, she had no way of proving it. But it didn’t gain her anything to assume he was holding out on her. “Look,” she said, “I don’t think we can wait any longer. If we can’t find Joko Daishi, then we have to make him come to us.”
“Oh? What do you have in mind?”
“He needs his mask. He wants my sword. Let’s give them to him.”
“Hm.” Furukawa sipped something. Ice clinked against crystal. “He does have people watching your apartment—or at least he did when last I checked. If we move the mask, he should learn of it soon.”
“Make sure. Let it leak throughout your organization. You said he still has moles in the Wind, neh?”
“We must assume so, yes.”
“Then get the word out.”
Mariko felt something release in her chest, like a fist loosening up. It felt good to make progress, even if she hadn’t actually accomplished anything yet. At this point, even an idea was good enough.
“It’s a dangerous gambit,” Furukawa said. “He believes the mask gives him divine power. And he is very clever. If he manages to steal the bait from off the hook, he may go on to do much worse than we’ve seen so far.”
“How can it get worse than kidnapping and murdering over a thousand children?”
“How could it get worse than bombing an airport? Before this morning, Haneda was the worst we’d ever seen.” He took a sip from whatever he was drinking, and much too calmly for Mariko’s liking. She would have liked to hear those ice cubes jingling, as if held by a nervously quivering hand. “You ask how much worse it can get? I ask you, do we want to leave it to Joko Daishi to answer that question?”
Now Mariko’s hands were shaking. “Good point. But I don’t see any other choice. I don’t want to just sit back and wait.”
“No, that isn’t your style, is it?” Furukawa was almost jovial. He seemed to find her impatience adorable. “Very well. We’ll do it your way. There’s a pool hall called Kikuchi Billiards. Do you know it?”
“Is it anywhere near Kikuchi Park?”
“Across the street, in fact. We maintain a safe house there. I’ll send the mask and sword. Can you beat them there?”
“I’ll leave right now. I’ll see if I can get a SWAT team on site too.”
“And if not?”
“Then I’ll see how many yakuzas I can have waiting for him. It’s all pool balls, neh? The Bulldog is as bloodthirsty as they come. If he isn’t willing to help me find Joko Daishi, maybe he’s willing to take a shot at him if I put the fucker in front of him.”
“Well, now. That’s most insidious of you, Detective Oshiro. You may be one of us after all.”
Absolutely not, Mariko thought, but I’m counting on you being right about all the destiny stuff. She’d promised Shoji not to harm her son. If Shoji and Furukawa were right about Joko Daishi’s fate, then Kamaguchi firepower couldn’t kill him. Neither could SWAT. Only Mariko could do that. But if they were wrong, she had practically called for Joko Daishi’s execution. Not a bad outcome, Furukawa would say, but Mariko made a promise to a friend and she didn’t intend to break it. Besides, she’d be right there with him; she might end up in the cross fire herself.
Her phone beeped and she saw another call coming in. She hoped to see Han’s name there; instead she saw the last name she’d expect.
“Hang on,” she told Furukawa. “I have to take this.” Then she clicked over to the other call.
“It’s me,” said the Bulldog. His rasping voice was unmistakable.
“Long time, no hear,” Mariko said. “What’s it been, half an hour?”
“Don’t get cute. I changed my mind about those kids, but if you decide to fuck with me, I’ll change it right back.”
He sounded angry. “Are you okay, Kamaguchi-san?”
The breath came loud through his nostrils, blowing harshly over his phone’s mouthpiece. “Those sissies who poisoned all those people