Chapter 32: Striking First, the Unexpected Discovery at the Nohara Residence (Please Vote! Please Keep Reading!)

"Matsuo Noguchi just confessed."

Early in the morning, as Hidenobu Aoyama arrived at the police station, Aya Asai called him into her office to deliver the news.

"Ha, as expected. He must have seen his lawyer," Hidenobu Aoyama replied calmly.

Aya Asai tilted her head, gazing at her unscrupulous subordinate—who, just last night, had been all too bold with her—and furrowed her brows as she asked, "So is that why you didn't continue with the interrogation last night?"

"Yesterday, at the scene of the arrest, I saw Matsuo Noguchi make a call for help," Hidenobu Aoyama said as he picked up Aya Asai's coffee and took a sip, ignoring her look of disgust. "His drug trafficking is a matter of solid evidence—no one can save him. But to avoid implicating themselves, his backers are certain to negotiate with him, offering both threats and inducements to have him plead guilty and accept his fate, so the case ends with him and doesn't widen further."

Indeed, Noguchi's call for help was not really an attempt to be rescued, but rather a bargaining chip to extract more benefits from his backers in exchange for his confession.

"Always the same," Aya Asai said, clenching her fists in frustration, her teeth biting her lip. "Are we forever doomed to strike at the dogs, but never touch the masters? The dog dies, the master just gets another one to do his dirty work. It's infuriating!"

Her anger was tinged with a sense of helplessness.

"The reason we can only go after the dogs is that your authority is still too limited," Hidenobu Aoyama said, setting down the coffee cup and leaning forward, bracing his hands on her desk so their eyes met. "When you run the National Police Agency, then you can take down both the dogs and the masters."

Of course, that was a lie. By the time Aya Asai became Chief of the National Police Agency, she herself would have become one of those "masters." Otherwise, she would never get that far—and even if she did, she could never keep her position for long.

"That day will come," Aya Asai declared, taking a deep breath, eyes shining with determination.

Hidenobu Aoyama neither agreed nor denied it. He glanced at his watch and said, "If there's nothing else, I'll be going."

He still had to pay a visit to Mrs. Nohara with good news.

"Oh, one more thing." Aya Asai handed him a document from her desk. "Last night's explosion was caused by a homemade bomb. The technicians found fragments of a remote-control device at the scene."

Hidenobu Aoyama immediately understood. No wonder the blast was so small—killing only the four inside the car—it was a makeshift device. He scanned the report and said, "The range on these homemade remote bombs isn't far. There must have been a fifth person at the scene."

"Exactly," Aya Asai replied, her face grave. "The identities of the four who died are still unknown, but since they were all armed, we can be sure they were hardened criminals. And for that mysterious fifth person to detonate a bomb right under the police's nose—he must be even more ruthless. We have to find him."

"I'll take a team back to search that stretch of highway right away," Hidenobu Aoyama answered at once.

Aya Asai nodded. "Be careful."

"Right!" Hidenobu Aoyama bowed and left.

At the same time, the newly appointed Chief of the Criminal Division, Tomoto Takahashi, was officially taking up his post, personally escorted to the department by Asahiko Asai—a show of considerable respect.

After a brief welcome ceremony, Takahashi had the files on all Criminal Division personnel sent to his office, then dismissed the others to their work.

"Knock, knock, knock!"

"Come in," Takahashi said, eyes still on the personnel files and not bothering to look up.

"Chief, you’re working hard already," Ryoichi Fujimoto entered with coffee, closing the door behind him and approaching with a smile. "Starting work so diligently on your first day—it must be exhausting. Please, have some coffee."

"You're Fuji…," Takahashi paused, having just seen the man's file, but unable to recall the name.

"Ryoichi Fujimoto," the man replied, setting down the coffee and introducing himself respectfully. "Chief, I am Ryoichi Fujimoto, Deputy Head of the Violent Crimes Investigation Unit."

"Oh, so you’re Deputy Fujimoto," Takahashi nodded, then took a sip of coffee and said, "As I recall, you were with the Firearms and Narcotics Unit until recently. How are you finding life in the Criminal Division?"

"I’m getting used to it," Fujimoto replied.

Takahashi set down his coffee, his tone casual. "Before coming to Shinjuku Station, I’d heard quite a bit about Detective Hidenobu Aoyama. Since you and he were colleagues, you must know him well?"

Fujimoto’s expression suddenly grew awkward.

"What’s this? Seems there’s a story between you and Deputy Aoyama?" Takahashi smiled.

Fujimoto lowered his head, silent for a moment before answering, "To be honest, Chief, I was transferred to the Criminal Division to make room for him. And everyone here knows I once—foolishly—pursued Inspector Asai, but she never gave me the time of day, while she clearly favors Deputy Aoyama, so…"

He trailed off, clearly not wanting to say more.

"I see," Takahashi’s eyes brightened. New to Shinjuku Station and in need of allies to help deal with Aoyama, he could not have asked for a better opportunity. Ryoichi Fujimoto bore a grudge against Aoyama and was now eager to curry favor—an ideal tool.

Takahashi's manner immediately became warmer and more approachable. "No need to be down, Deputy Fujimoto. There are plenty more fish in the sea. How about this—let’s have a drink tonight, and you can fill me in on the ins and outs of Shinjuku Station."

He had no intention of remaining as Chief of Criminals at Shinjuku; his sole aim was to deal with Aoyama and return to the Metropolitan Police Department as quickly as possible. If he took too long, his replacement there would solidify their position, making it much harder for him to return.

"Of course, Chief! I’d be honored!" Fujimoto was visibly excited, nodding repeatedly. "Rest assured, I’ll tell you everything there is to know."

"Haha, good—now back to work."

"Yes, Chief!"

After Fujimoto left, Takahashi pondered for a moment before calling in the Head of the Robbery Investigation Unit. "I hear Deputy Fujimoto and Deputy Aoyama from Firearms and Narcotics don’t get along?"

Naturally, he wouldn’t rely solely on Fujimoto’s account.

"Yes, Chief," replied the unit head, not sure why the new chief was interested in such gossip, but answering honestly, "Not just don’t get along—they’re like oil and water. The whole station knows it."

...

Elsewhere, Hidenobu Aoyama led seven members of the Firearms and Narcotics Unit back to the stretch of highway where the explosion had occurred.

"Focus your search on the fields on either side of the road. Be thorough, and report any findings immediately," he instructed after getting out of the car.

"Yes, sir!" The seven bowed and dispersed.

Aoyama remained where he was, lighting a cigarette. Wasn’t the privilege of leadership to direct others while you took it easy? Otherwise, what was the point of promotion? Besides, a good leader should give subordinates chances to shine—if you do everything yourself, how can they ever earn merit?

The phone in his car rang.

Aoyama stubbed out his cigarette and answered.

"Hello?"

"This is Ryoichi Fujimoto. Aoyama, the plan is working perfectly. Before I could even invite him for a drink, Tomoto Takahashi asked me himself."

"Excellent," Aoyama smiled, leaning against the car as the cold wind blew. "I’ll await your good news."

Sitting idle and waiting to be attacked was not his style. If there was an opportunity to strike first, he’d seize it; if none existed, he’d create one.

"Yes, sir!"

"Deputy, I’ve found something!" Inoue, who had been searching the fields, suddenly straightened, waving and shouting to him.

"I’ll hang up now," Aoyama said, ending the call and hurrying over.

Inoue pointed to several clear footprints in the field. "Deputy, look—these must have been left recently, or they wouldn’t be so distinct. And the grass ahead is still pressed down. Very suspicious."

"Take casts of these footprints and bring them back for comparison," Aoyama ordered at once.

"Yes, sir!"

After another half hour of searching yielded nothing new, Aoyama called an end to the operation. The others returned to the station, while he made his way to the Nohara residence.

Last time, he’d taken not only the car keys but also the house key, on the pretext that it would spare Mrs. Nohara from having to open the door for him each time.

Mrs. Nohara had been so moved she nearly wept on the spot.

He unlocked the gate and front door and found the living room empty, though the coffee table was piled with documents. He was just wondering if she was out when he heard a commotion from the kitchen.

Aoyama entered to find Mrs. Nohara with her upper body inside the washing machine, her lower body sticking out, her rear lifted high as she busied herself with some task.

Don’t ask how he could recognize her without seeing her face—anyone could identify her by her figure alone.

Today, Mrs. Nohara wore a fitted white pencil dress, accentuating her curves as she bent over. The skirt had ridden up, and her legs, sheathed in black stockings, were nearly completely exposed.

Even the washing machine seemed to have retained its charm!

After much effort, Noriko Nohara finally cleaned the scraps of paper stuck to the washing machine drum. Just as she was about to withdraw, she felt someone embrace her from behind.

"Ah! Who are you? Let go of me!" She trembled in fright, shrieking and struggling to back out, but the arms around her waist held her firmly, making escape impossible. Her attempts only made her movements appear all the more suggestive.

Rip—the stockings tore with a harsh sound.

"Please, no! Don’t do this!" Caught off guard, Noriko Nohara was overwhelmed by shame and terror, her eyes brimming with tears as she pleaded desperately.

"Don’t be afraid, it’s me," Aoyama said gently, unwilling to scare her further.

"Ao… Aoyama?" Recognizing his voice, Mrs. Nohara sighed in relief, then, mortified, cried, "Let me out at once!"

"Why not let me in first?" he teased.

Her mortification deepened, and she could only let out a pitiful whimper.

The position was, after all, rather compromising.

It was over half an hour before she was finally freed. Her eyes were still moist, her cheeks as red as boiled shrimp, and tear tracks lingered as she pouted, half in reproach, half in complaint. "Aoyama, how could you frighten me like that…"

As she spoke, fresh tears welled up.

"I came to bring you good news—Matsuo Noguchi has been arrested. Noguchi’s group is finished; they won’t be able to target Nohara Financial Corporation again," Aoyama said with a gentle smile.

"Really?" At once, Noriko Nohara’s mood lifted, and she repeatedly expressed her gratitude. "Thank you so much, Mr. Aoyama!"

She seemed to forget her dress had just been torn off and that she was now completely exposed. As she bowed, her ample charms nearly made Aoyama dizzy.

When she realized this, she blushed furiously, lowered her head, and fled upstairs. "I’ll go change. Please make yourself at home."

Aoyama straightened his clothes and sat in the living room, picking up the documents on the coffee table.

They were files from Nohara Financial Corporation, divided into three categories: clients who had fully repaid their loans, those with outstanding balances, and those who had defaulted.

To his surprise, he spotted Toshitomi Sato’s name among the prime clients. Sato had borrowed a total of 130 million yen in three installments, and had settled his latest debt, with interest, just a week ago.

These days, many Japanese relied on loans to cover daily expenses, but someone of Sato’s position shouldn’t need to go to such lengths—especially since he was known to be corrupt. If he needed money, he wouldn’t be short just a hundred million yen.

The fact that he borrowed even this much suggested he’d taken loans from other companies too, possibly for substantial sums. Otherwise, he could have gone to a bank—why resort to a loan company?

What was he doing with so much borrowed money? And how did he manage to pay it all back so quickly?

"Aoyama…" At that moment, Noriko Nohara, now clad in a pink kimono, came downstairs.

"Quiet, I’m thinking," he replied, lost in contemplation.