Song unfurled the rest of his story as they drove along in the minivan.
"Emmaus is active around the world," he explained. "So, naturally they also have a wide information network. I'm not directly affiliated with them, but participating in their work often brings in information from other NPOs. I did call it a rumor earlier, but the information is actually quite accurate. It's not limited to the country that you're thinking of. Various groups abduct people for various reasons."
Generally it was understood that people abducted Japanese people in order to obtain their passports and impersonate them.
"Isn't that it?" Kuji asked. "Aren't they doing it so that they can become Japanese?"
Song did not answer him, but instead responded with a question of his own. "Well, did you know that in some countries, the sale of human organs is legal? Income disparity is extremely severe in those countries, and some will sell their organs for money."
"So, what about it?"
Song glanced over at Kuji. "That's how much organ transplants are in demand."
Kuji's eyes widened. "You... is 伊that伊 what you mean?"
"I can't say for sure, though."
Once, there had been a warning issued among groups who aided the homeless. Disappearances were already commonplace, as homeless people had no fixed address. But even if aid groups tracked the whereabouts of missing people, suspecting foul play, oftentimes they found out that these people had simply changed their sleeping places.
If abductors were after Japanese passports, all they needed was someone with a Japanese nationality. But if they were after healthy human organs, targeting homeless people would put them out of luck. With elderly homeless people on the rise, this was especially true.
"And that's the reason for targeting this specific group," Song said. "Internet cafe refugees are often young and healthy."
"That's what Morimoto's doing?"
"I don't know. But all of us are very careful about dealing with organizations that run any similar kind of business - especially when there's information about missing persons. Asylum Net is a name that has come up amongst us a few times already. We've been providing information to the police, but we haven't been able to get a hold of decisive evidence."
The car pulled in from Gaien-higashi-dori to Yasukuni-dori.
Nango was in possession of no such information, as far as Kuji knew. But in an organization as sectionalist as the police, perhaps it was the norm. Kuji remembered what Nango had told him - that the Public Safety division itself was divided into many small departments, where the personnel neither knew about each other nor the work that others did. As Kuji lapsed into thought, Song picked up where he had left off.
"And these people know that the country will never put spotlight on the problem of Internet cafe refugees. A politician's word carries so little weight compared to the word of God."
Kuji stared at Song's face. "Are you a Communist?"
"No. I belong to the kingdom of God."
The car passed by the Kabukicho district and dipped under the Shinjuku Ogado overpass. The sidewalks were teeming with people as if it were daytime. Shinjuku continued to be active long past midnight.
"Do you know where he's working right now?" Song asked. "How about we pick him up directly?"
Kuji only knew that Ogura worked at a convenience store, and not the specific location. When he told Song that, the man said, "All right," and continued to drive. They stopped a block away from the building that housed Asylum Net.
"Is the entrance open twenty-four hours?"
"No. Some people work night shifts, but in that case the front desk is supposed to open the door when they come in."
"If you come in at this hour, would they let you in, Masatake?"
"Who knows," said Kuji, tilting his head. "I'm sure they'll open the door if someone I know is there."
"You should call your friend's cell instead. Let's have him come out to get you."
Kuji called, but was met with an automated responder that told him that the number he was trying to call was unavailable - that the phone was either turned off or out of range.
Song's face clouded over. "Let's go together," he said as he opened the driver's side door.
When they pressed the buzzer at the entrance, Morimoto's voice answered.
"May I ask who this is?" Morimoto asked.
"Right on," Kuji murmured. But Song furrowed his brow. When Kuji tried to answer, Song stopped him.
"I'll talk to him," he said. "I'm sorry for visiting at such a late hour. I'm Song from Roppongi Church. We had the pleasure of talking to you the other day."
"Oh, yes, you must be the pastor from the other day," said Morimoto. The auto-lock clicked open and the two of them stepped inside. The reception desk was located right in front of the entrance, and Morimoto came out from the back.
"You're with him, too?" Morimoto asked when he spotted Kuji. "So, what brings you here, Pastor?"
"Priest," Song[SS3] corrected with a smile as he approached the man. "He says he's forgotten something here," he explained, referring to Kuji. "So I thought I might as well come and have a talk with you while we were here. We at the church provide advice and support to the unemployed and the reclusive. We were wondering if perhaps we could form a network with you and help you in some way."
Morimoto seemed to trust Song completely. "I don't want to keep you standing," he said. "Please, come on in."
Kuji watched the two of them disappear into the back before heading to the stairway. He had called minutes earlier to tell Ogura to meet him in the boiler room, since his roommates were probably already asleep. He opened the door and turned the light switch on.
"Ogura?" he called, but no one answered. He took a step forward and smelled an all-too-familiar odor. He almost turned back, sensing something wrong, but he decided against it. He crouched down, hid in the shadows of the washing machines, and surveyed his surroundings. No one was there. Kuji got on his elbows and knees and kept his belly to the floor as he inched forward. A scene exactly like the one he had imagined emerged before his eyes.
"Oh, shit..." he murmured, but he knew that swearing would do no good.
Beyond the washing machines was a growing pool of blood, and Ogura lying on his back in the center of it. For a second, he looked like he was smiling - but when Kuji realized it was actually a gaping gash under his chin that looked like a mouth, a shudder went through his entire body.
He scrambled to take his cell phone out of his jumper and called Song.
"Yes?" answered Song's calm voice. Kuji was almost in tears.
"Shit, Song, this is really bad. It's him, he's... he's dead. Someone killed him."
"Oh, no...." There was a pause, but Song quickly issued his next words. "Stay there," he ordered.
Kuji hung up and hugged his knees. The minutes that passed felt like hours. Eventually he heard footsteps. He tensed, wondering if it was Ogura's killer, but it was Song who came through the door. To his surprise, Morimoto was with him. Song had the man in a Nelson hold, with both of his arms held up behind his head.
"Morimoto!" Kuji sprang up in surprise.