Chapter 42: From Certain Victory to Sato's Shock and Rage

An hour later.

Shunobu Aoyama and his two companions returned to the Metropolitan Police Department.

The meeting resumed.

At the very front stood Aya Asai, her long hair draping her shoulders, dressed in a silver-gray suit. She pointed at a map, introducing the terrain of tonight's arrest site.

“This is the Maple Leaf Restaurant, located at the crossroads. There are many different shops nearby, so there’s heavy foot traffic, especially in the evenings…”

“The Maple Leaf Restaurant is small, with only four staff members. Ichiro Takeda has likely memorized their faces, so we can’t pose as employees. The three private rooms on the second floor, facing the street, provide a clear view of the surroundings. Given Takeda’s cunning, he’ll definitely book out the entire restaurant in advance and choose one of those rooms.”

“That’s why those participating in the arrest should avoid appearing on the street, but hiding everyone in nearby shops is not advisable either. Takeda may not head directly for the restaurant; he could linger in another shop first, watching for anything unusual before approaching.”

“We can’t know which shop he’ll use to observe, so if any of us cross paths with him, he’ll likely sense something’s off. See, there’s a parking lot here—I suggest we park two trucks, with most personnel waiting in the back for orders, while only two or three people keep watch from nearby shops, ready to report at any time.”

“For Superintendent Sato’s safety, and to minimize risk to bystanders, it’s best if Superintendent Sato leaves the restaurant first. The rest of us will then trap Takeda inside—close the doors and finish the job!”

With that, Aya Asai turned and bowed deeply to the group, signaling the end of her presentation.

“Bravo!” Sato Toshitomi led the applause.

The room resounded with enthusiastic clapping.

Shunobu Aoyama smiled and joined in. None of this was his doing; after all, in his previous life, he’d only had experience with killing, not with arrests. Aya Asai truly had a talent for command.

As the applause faded, Sato Toshitomi praised her with admiration. “Inspector Asai, your thinking aligns perfectly with mine. Like father, like daughter—another rising star for our police force in the making.”

“You flatter me,” Aya Asai replied, suppressing her inner anger and revulsion, and bowed to him alone.

Asahi Takehiko stood up. “If there are no other questions, I’ll assign the tasks.”

Everyone rose to attention at his words.

“Wait!” Sato Toshitomi raised his hand, standing to face Takehiko with a gentle tone. “If possible, I’d like the Criminal Investigation Division to lead the assault. After all, Takeda escaped from my hands before—I wish to make up for that regret.”

His words were sincere.

“Heh, in that case, I’ll let you have your way,” Takehiko agreed. After all, tonight’s operation depended on Sato’s intelligence; it would be inappropriate to refuse.

Sato Toshitomi bowed in serious gratitude.

Takehiko nodded and continued the assignments.

“Team One is responsible for—”

“Yes, sir!”

“Team Two—”

“Yes, sir!”

“Let’s begin preparations. I wish everyone a smooth operation—may you cut through the thorns and return triumphant!” Takehiko bowed ninety degrees to the group.

This was a great honor. Everyone bent even lower in response, replying in unison, “Yes, sir!”

Takehiko left the meeting room first.

Shunobu Aoyama and Aya Asai followed.

…

Three hours before nightfall, those on the front lines—Aoyama and the others—involved in the arrest donned bulletproof vests and collected spare ammunition, then headed to the area near the Maple Leaf Restaurant to lie in wait for Takeda.

On the second floor of a café opposite the restaurant, peering through a gap in the window at the busy street outside, Aoyama felt a strange sense of irony—who would have thought, after the war, he’d be lying in ambush like this again.

Elsewhere, Sato Toshitomi sat quietly in his office, waiting for Takeda’s call.

Minute by minute, time passed.

Outside, dusk deepened.

Streetlights flickered on.

Ring, ring, ring—

The sudden shrill of the phone echoed through the dark, empty office.

Sato Toshitomi opened his eyes, exhaled, and grabbed the receiver. “Sato speaking.”

“Arrive at private room 202 of the Maple Leaf Restaurant within half an hour,” Takeda’s voice was low and cold.

“Understood!” Sato replied crisply.

Takeda hung up.

Sato grabbed his portable phone and rushed out, calling Takehiko on the way. “Takeda just contacted me—he wants me at the Maple Leaf Restaurant, room 202, within thirty minutes. He might already be nearby. Tell everyone to stay alert.”

“Understood.” Asahi Takehiko, the chief commander tonight, sat in a disguised refrigerated truck nearby. After hanging up, he relayed the message to Aoyama and the others, disguised and watching from the vicinity. “Headquarters to sentries, do you copy?”

“Sentry One, received.”

“Sentry Two, received.”

Aoyama, hearing the call in his earpiece, replied, “Sentry Three, received.”

“The target may be nearby. Stay hidden, watch closely, and report any movement immediately. Over,” Takehiko said in a grave tone.

“Understood.” x3

Aoyama stirred his coffee absentmindedly, but his eyes stayed glued to the entrance of the Maple Leaf Restaurant across the street. As Asai had predicted, the restaurant had indeed been booked out. Though people passed by the door, none went inside.

At last, he saw a figure in a baseball cap enter the restaurant. He frowned, pondering, but before he could report, another colleague spoke into the earpiece, “Sentry Two to Headquarters, the target has entered the restaurant.”

“Sentry Three to Headquarters: The person who just entered, though dressed identically to Takeda, is not the target,” Aoyama quickly interjected. “I’ve seen Takeda up close—he’s shorter, and there’s no way he’d wear the same clothes for several days in a row.”

The man who just entered was likely a small-time thug hired by Takeda to test whether police were lying in wait—cautious indeed.

“Hold position, continue observation,” Takehiko decided after a moment, choosing to trust Aoyama.

“Understood.” x3

After three or five minutes, the man left. As he stepped outside, Aoyama got a clear look at his face—it was not Takeda.

About twenty minutes later, a taxi stopped at the restaurant door. Sato Toshitomi climbed out, straightened his collar, and entered.

“Sentry One to Headquarters, Takeda spotted—he’s leaving the first floor of the café across from the restaurant, wearing a gray tracksuit and a black cap, heading toward the restaurant.”

As the voice sounded in his earpiece, Aoyama, upstairs in the café, saw the man Sentry One described. “Three to Headquarters, I can’t see his face from here, but the build matches Takeda.”

“One, repeating: I saw his face—it’s Takeda! I repeat, it’s him!”

“Headquarters received. Sato, report as soon as you leave the restaurant,” Takehiko ordered.

“Yes, sir!” x3

Inside the Maple Leaf Restaurant, Sato gave the name “Mr. Takeda” and was led to room 202.

He opened the door—no one inside.

Just as he lifted his phone to dial, the door opened again. Takeda entered.

“A pleasure to meet you at last, Ichiro Takeda,” Takeda said politely, extending a hand and sizing Sato up.

Sato shook his hand, his face a little stiff. “I never thought you’d dare come back.”

He truly hadn’t expected it.

“So you thought you could just keep my share?” Takeda let go, his smile cold and strained, his eyes dark. “It’s all thanks to you. If you hadn’t swallowed my 350 million, I wouldn’t have risked coming back. But I can’t sleep knowing you’re spending the money my brothers died for, while I skulk around like a stray dog.”

“What’s the point of saying this now? I helped you all escape back then—without me, you’d have been caught,” Sato said icily.

Takeda’s eyes filled with scorn. “You did it for yourself, didn’t you? Afraid if we got caught, the truth about your involvement would come out? Don’t pretend you’re so noble.”

“Think about it—a police officer involved in a bank robbery, that would be headline news. Just imagining it is thrilling…”

“Enough!” Sato felt an increasing unease and wanted to leave. He pulled a bank card from his pocket and handed it over. “This is a Swiss bank card—the password is written on the card. Your share is in there. Take it, and leave Japan at once. It’s best for both of us.”

In reality, it was empty.

“If I find no money, or not enough, I’ll come back for you,” Takeda said seriously, taking the card.

He’d always planned to come back for Sato. This time was for the money and to confirm Sato’s identity. Next time, once the money had been distributed to his dead brothers’ families, he’d come for Sato’s life.

“Would I dare deceive a madman like you?” Sato growled through gritted teeth, then inhaled deeply to calm himself. “Goodbye.”

With that, he turned and left.

His footsteps grew ever quicker as he exited.

Cold sweat dripped from his forehead.

Only after stepping out of the restaurant did he finally breathe a sigh of relief. At the same time, Aoyama and the other two reported this to Takehiko.

“Move in!” Takehiko ordered.

The truck doors swung open. Armed police leapt out, charging swiftly and in formation toward the restaurant. The sudden development caused a stir in the street.

“Police operation, everyone clear the area!”

“Move, move! Everyone out!”

Takeda, in the second-floor private room, heard the commotion and rushed to the window. His face changed dramatically. With a snarl, he smashed his fist onto the sill. “Damn it! Crafty bureaucrats!”

He’d been tricked.

“Takeda, you are surrounded. Drop your weapon and come out with your hands up!” The police issued their standard warning before launching the assault.

Sato blended into the crowd, hands behind his back, looking up with a cold, mocking sneer at Takeda by the window. Ha, you little punk, think you can outplay me?

You won’t even know how you die!

“Screw you!” Enraged by the sight of Sato’s smug face, Takeda drew his gun and fired two shots out the window. “If you’ve got guts, come and get me!”

To him, all these men were Sato’s lackeys. If he surrendered, he’d be completely at Sato’s mercy.

If surrender meant certain death, he might as well take a few down with him.

“Attack!” Takehiko ordered decisively.

The Criminal Investigation Division’s men prepared to rush in, but Takehiko stopped them. “You secure the perimeter.”

Aya Asai, Shunobu Aoyama, Shinichi Nakamura, and the rest from the Shinjuku station charged into the restaurant instead.

“Chief Inspector Asai, didn’t we agree my men would lead the assault?” Sato’s face stiffened at the sight, and he strode forward in agitation, his voice trembling with anger and alarm. “How can you change the plan on your own?”

If his men didn’t lead, and Takeda was taken alive rather than killed, what had all his scheming been for?

“Superintendent Sato, your solo risk has already earned great merit for your division. Surely you can let my people have a taste of the action,” Takehiko said with a genial smile.

Sato was so furious he wanted to punch that grinning face, but despair overwhelmed him. He’d calculated everything—except that Takehiko would steal the credit at the last moment!

Of course, Takehiko wasn’t doing it for the glory. Aoyama and Asai had already shared their suspicions about Sato, hence this unexpected turn.