Chapter 60: Villains Meet Their Match

When Fujiwara the Blond was brought out of the interrogation room and led to the holding cell, he was still somewhat dazed.

Are the police already giving up on interrogating me?

Weren’t all those little tricks I’d thought up to resist questioning just a waste? I haven’t even had the chance to use them all yet!

Arriving at the holding cell, he immediately saw, through the iron bars, the four guys who’d just arrested him, each either squatting or standing inside, staring at him menacingly.

“I want to change rooms! I’m not staying with them!” Fujiwara the Blond shouted at once.

Two officers simply shoved him inside and locked the door. “You think this is a hotel?”

Without another word, they walked off, not even looking back.

“Well, well, kid. Didn’t expect to see us so soon, did you?” Noda looked at Fujiwara with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“You guys... don’t do anything rash, alright? We don’t have any grudges between us...” Fujiwara tried to act calm, though he was panicking inside.

“No grudges?” Noda suddenly raised his voice and lunged, grabbing Fujiwara by the collar. “There’s a blood feud between us!”

To cut off a man’s fortune is like killing his parents.

“Boss, you must have the wrong guy. I don’t even know you!” Fujiwara protested, feeling terribly wronged.

“You don’t need to know us. It’s enough that we know you!” Noda punched Fujiwara hard in the stomach. “Tell me, where’s the money hidden?”

“Ah! Help! They’re hitting me!” Fujiwara screamed, his face twisted in pain, yelling down the corridor.

“What’s all the noise?” The guard came over, rapped on the bars, and glared at Fujiwara. “Maybe you should think about why they’re beating you and not anyone else. Doesn’t that suggest you’re the problem? Quiet down!”

With that, the guard walked off without another word.

“Damn it!” Fujiwara cursed in despair.

Noda released his collar, grabbed him by the hair, and yanked him to the ground, then stomped on his fingers with the heel of his shoe. “Speak! Where’s the money!”

“I don’t know... Ah!” Fujiwara’s words ended in a shriek.

His fingers, crushed repeatedly under Noda’s leather soles, quickly became a mess of blood and mangled flesh, the joints starting to deform as if the bones were being shattered.

Ten fingers connected to the heart—such pain was beyond imagining.

“Isn’t this going too far?” In the surveillance room, Aya Asai frowned at the scene, turning to Hideyuki Aoyama. “If the media finds out about this...”

“If the media finds out, it’s just suspects fighting in the holding cell. It’s not like we beat him during interrogation,” Aoyama replied lightly.

Watching criminals torment each other was rather entertaining.

This trick could be useful in the future: a bit of fun, and no risk of complaints about police brutality.

Noda continued the assault on Fujiwara the Blond.

“Where’s the money? If you don’t talk, it’ll be the next finger!”

“You’d better be sure you can hold out until all ten fingers are done. If you break at the tenth, then all that pain was for nothing. Are you confident in yourself?”

Fujiwara was deathly pale, sweat pouring down his forehead, torn with indecision—he really didn’t know if he could endure.

“Aaaaah!”

Before he could decide, Noda struck again, this time stomping hard on Fujiwara’s little finger, the shoe’s heel turning red with blood.

Fujiwara writhed on the ground in agony, finally breaking. “I’ll talk! I’ll talk! I’ll tell you!”

Even a professionally trained spy would struggle to withstand torture of this kind.

A gambling addict isn’t known for his willpower—if he had any, he’d have quit gambling long ago.

“There’s a saying in China: ‘A wise man submits to circumstances.’ If you’d just talked earlier, you wouldn’t have had to suffer,” Noda sneered, squatting down to haul Fujiwara up. “Stop pretending to be dead. Speak.”

“In... in Meguro district... Number 23, in the cellar behind the house,” Fujiwara gasped out the location, begging, “Please, don’t hurt me anymore. I’m telling the truth.”

“Oh, still refusing to talk, are you?” Noda roared, slapping him to the floor and kicking him in the gut. “Speak! Tell me!”

“Ah!” Fujiwara curled up on the ground like a shrimp, sobbing in pain and humiliation, tears streaming down his face. “I said it! I already told you!”

Can’t you understand Japanese, you bastard?

“Well, well, you’re a tough one. Let’s see if your mouth is tougher than our fists.” Noda sneered, instructing his three cronies, “Let’s loosen him up a bit more.”

The police station’s cameras only recorded video, not audio.

So, in the surveillance room, Aya Asai watched and couldn’t help remarking, “He’s got quite an endurance.”

Aoyama nodded in agreement.

Who’d have thought—a blond gambler, but with a backbone.

He himself wouldn’t have lasted half as long.

At that moment, Fujiwara felt as though all his bones were about to shatter. Curled up and silently taking the beating, he racked his brain but couldn’t for the life of him figure out why he’d provoked these men.

In the end, he could only blame himself for having made too many enemies, vowing to be a better person from now on.

“All right! That’s enough!” Noda, knowing not to go too far, called off his men before anything fatal happened. He squatted, pretended to lean in and listen to Fujiwara, then rose and gave the cameras an “OK” gesture, signaling that all was settled.

Moments later, he was brought before Aoyama and Aya Asai by an officer, his first words being, “That guy’s mouth is tight—I’m exhausted.”

“Cut the crap and tell us—where’s the money?” Aoyama demanded impatiently.

“Yes, yes!” Noda immediately put on a fawning smile and bowed repeatedly. “In Meguro district... in the cellar behind the house at 23, 3rd block. He was half dead before he talked—it has to be true.”

If only he hadn’t run into Aoyama tonight, the money would have been theirs. What a cruel twist of fate.

“I’ll have someone check the place immediately,” said Aya Asai, stepping aside to make the arrangements.

Noda looked at Aoyama and asked cautiously, “So, can we leave now?”

“Leave?” Aoyama sneered, shooting him a sidelong glance. “Fighting in the station, nearly beating a fellow suspect to death—you’ll be detained for a month. Otherwise, if he files a complaint, the police would take the blame for you. Do you really think that’s possible?”

“This...” Noda was stunned and furious.

Damn! So much for honor among thieves!

Promises made a moment ago now meant nothing.

Aoyama glared at him, smiling coldly. “You don’t submit?”

“I submit, I submit,” Noda’s bravado instantly deflated, and he swallowed his anger.

When under another’s roof, one has no choice but to bow.

Aoyama waved his hand dismissively.

Noda was taken away to process his detention.

Half an hour later, Aya Asai returned to tell Aoyama that Fujiwara had told the truth.

The two of them immediately went to report to Takehiko Asai.

“Well done! Excellent work!” Takehiko Asai was overjoyed, patting Aoyama on the shoulder. “Since you’ve handled this so well, your firearms division will go to the money’s location and wait in ambush. I’ll immediately announce Fujiwara’s capture—his accomplices will surely try to recover the money and flee.”

“Yes, sir!” Aoyama and Aya replied.

Takehiko Asai added, “Inspector Asai, you don’t need to go. Let Deputy Chief Aoyama lead the team. I have another assignment for you.”

“Superintendent...” Aya Asai’s face soured, especially in front of Aoyama.

Takehiko cut her off. “That’s settled. Get ready.”

“Yes, sir!” Aoyama turned and left.

Aya Asai watched her father, hesitating, but finally left with Aoyama. Once they exited the office, she said, “I’m sorry, I...”

“A father worrying about his daughter’s safety is only natural,” Aoyama replied with a mix of envy and resentment. “Having your own father as the boss is nice—no need to risk the front lines, but you’ll still get the credit when the case is closed.”

Hearing this, Aya felt even more guilty, bowing deeply. “About what we discussed earlier, I’ll help you as soon as I can.”

Aoyama nodded and strode off.

Aya watched his departing figure, lips pressed tight.

...

That night, Aoyama led his entire firearms division to the house where the money was hidden, laying in wait.

At the same time, Takehiko Asai held a press conference, announcing that a suspect in the North Expansion Bank robbery had been apprehended, and called on the other three to surrender.

The news was broadcast the next morning.

After the robbery, public criticism of the police had been harsh, but this quick arrest helped restore some of their reputation.

Meanwhile, Fujiwara the Blond’s boss, the man with the scarred face, suspected a police ploy when he saw the news. He contacted the other three accomplices in turn, but when Fujiwara didn’t answer his phone, he knew something had gone wrong.

He immediately summoned the remaining two to meet.

“Fujiwara may be in trouble,” he said as soon as they met.

“What? He wouldn’t sell us out, would he?”

“Boss, what do we do now?”

“From what I know of Fujiwara, he can tough out the early interrogations, but after that, who knows,” Scarface said gravely. “We have to leave—right now.”

“What about the money?” asked the bald man.

Scarface thought for a moment. “The police are still locking down the area. There’s too much cash to take it all. We’ll just grab some and run—leave the rest, and come back when things cool down.”

“Okay!” The others weren’t happy about leaving so much money behind, but they had no choice.

Once agreed, the three sprang into action, driving toward the stash.

“Stop the car!”

Just before they arrived, Scarface suddenly shouted.

The middle-aged man at the wheel instinctively hit the brakes. “Boss?”

“Even though I think Fujiwara can withstand the first round of questioning, we can’t put all our hope in that,” Scarface said, his face dark and uncertain. “Just in case, let’s send someone ahead to check for a police ambush.”