In the first place, when it comes to kidnapping cases, there is never any guarantee that the kidnap victim would be returned safe and sound by complying with the kidnappers’ demands. To be blunt, the possibility is actually quite low. After all, why would they go to all the bother of returning a hostage? It’s so much easier to use the hostage as a shield and as a trading chip for whatever they want, then just off the hostage and make a quick getaway.
In cases like these, the textbook answer is to buy enough time to gather men to launch a blitz and seize the hostage back. This time, however, Agent Nicolas had only a 3-hour window. There simply wasn’t enough time to do anything. When adding the fact that Japan was an away game for the CIA, there was far too little time to make preparations in secret and launch a blitz attack.
The kidnappers’ obvious stupidity was also another serious cause for concern. Hostages had value only while alive. The moment a hostage dies, all function as a shield or a weapon would be completely gone. However, not so bright kidnappers could be dumb enough to just off their hostage as a way to vent their frustration if their demands are not met. The reason why Agent Nicolas had to consider this possibility in earnest was because the wording on the letter was actually overflowing with that much stupidity. When he used a mapping app to check aerial photographs of the area south of Ariake Station, he actually found two warehouses with green roofs. It was almost unbelievable how sloppy these kidnappers were.
On the other hand, the fact that these guys knew that Nicolas Stallone was not a detective chasing an international fugitive but a CIA agent, as well as the perfectly pulled off kidnapping painted a very different picture.
Exactly who were the kidnappers, and how could Agent Nicolas seize his daughter back? The abnormal circumstance of his daughter having been kidnapped caused his little grey cells, which were normally just pickled in alcohol, to run at fiber optic speed.
Firstly, he could immediately dismiss the possibility of espers being involved. This was just far too different from their usual movement patterns.
The mixture of brilliance and sloppiness that could be seen in what was happening most likely could be chalked up to there being two different organizations. In other words, there was the kidnapping organization, and another organization in a supportive or hired position.
There was no end to the list of CIA’s contenders. Any entity with a certain degree of information gathering ability could figure Agent Nicolas out as the head of the CIA’s local investigative team dedicated to the Super Water Sphere Incident. Leaking that piece of information to a third party and instigating them to put this kidnapping into action all as a way to rattle Agent Nicolas up...... actually sounded quite possible.
Was it MI6 or SVR behind the kidnappers? However, even when taking into consideration that everything happening here was being performed through a third party, everything was still far too sloppy. Chances seemed higher that this was one of the smaller countries’ agents thoughtlessly slapping a plan together as an impetuous attempt at getting the CIA’s information.
In any case, it made sense to think of the actual culprits and the information provider as two different entities. Agent Nicolas decided to focus solely on the former for now. For starters, he remembered the tattoo on the neck of the woman who had delivered the letter. From his 8 years living in Tokyo chasing down every single rumor that could even remotely be related to espers, Agent Nicolas had naturally come into frequent contact with the city’s underground. There were several tattoo artists that he was acquainted with.
After confirming that he was not being tailed—thus confirming that the “We’re keeping an eye on you” was a mere bluff—Agent Nicolas headed to the nearest tattoo artist that he knew. He showed the guy a drawing of the tattoo that he had drawn down from memory. And in a stroke of luck, the first artist he hit turned out to be the jackpot. With only a few love taps and a bit of roughing up, the young tattoo artist blabbed everything that he knew.
According to him, the woman who delivered the letter had that tattoo done about a year ago, and she was apparently the wife of one of the brass of the yakuza group Tadokoro-gumi.
Tadokoro-gumi was a very sizable yakuza syndicate based in Tokyo who had, up till recently, carved up the city in half together with its rival, Tanioka-gumi. However, it had failed to seize the business opportunities born from the Super Water Sphere Incident, and was now a mere shadow of its former self.
Upon learning all this, Agent Nicolas then called up the Japanese police officer that he was acquainted with, a guy named Yasui, and asked him about Tadokoro’s most recent movements. Detective Yasui was one of those so-called corrupt policemen, which meant that he was a convenient man who couldn’t be trusted but would happily sell information as long as the money was good. Apparently he also held connections to the yakuza. He was absolutely perfect as an information source in this situation.
According to Detective Yasui, Tadokoro-gumi was losing badly and bleeding members left and right. And about two days ago, the roughly 10 people who included the boss and the brass had been secretly going around making preparations for something.
Bingo.
If it was only around 10 people, then Agent Nicolas could handle them on his own. After all, it wasn’t like he would have to take on all 10 at the same time. Surely there would be a few isolated outside as lookouts, and quite possibly there would be non-combatants included in that count as well. It was hard to imagine all 10 being skilled martial artists or sharpshooters and all of them coming after him at once.
If he could have things his way, then he would have liked to call in support from his office as well. However, the kidnappers were keeping an eye on the building and thus would catch on as soon as CIA agents rushed out en masse. And to be honest, at the moment, the authority and respect that Agent Nicolas commanded over the agents were, well, pretty much nil. It could also be said that his popularity had fallen to rock bottom. It was highly doubtful whether they would be willing to put themselves in harms’ way for something unrelated to their duties for the sake of a superior on the cusp of a demotion. In the first place, there wasn’t enough time left to gather, brief, and deploy a whole group of people.
By the time Agent Nicolas managed to identify exactly who he was up against, there was only about an hour left until the rendezvous. He was overwhelmingly out of time. As he had already worked out a clear picture of his enemy and what he had to do, then all that was left was to make preparations to actually pull it off. He first ducked into a store specializing in travel goods to buy a dial lock-type trunk case. Then he nabbed a whole bunch of newspapers from a paper recycling truck and attacked them with scissors in a spout of impromptu handicraft.
Slightly short of 4 hours since the kidnapping took place, Agent Nicolas was racing his car toward the specified exchange location. Within that amount of time, he had actually pulled off the theoretically possible but extremely difficult feat of determining the identity of the kidnappers. And he had even prepared a battle plan for the exchange.
During nighttime, the warehouses facing Tokyo Bay were enveloped in a very unique atmosphere due to a combination of the sound of lapping waves and the far-off cacophony of the streets. There were two green-roofed warehouses, but one of them had a suspicious-looking black luxury car sitting out front, so Agent Nicolas could immediately tell which one he was supposed to approach. Just in case that wasn’t enough, a dangerous-looking man with blond-dyed hair sitting with his legs resting on the steering wheel pressed his car horn loudly.
Agent Nicolas retrieved the trunk case and got out of his car. As he was doing so, the skinhead man who had been leaning against the black luxury car puffing on a cigarette slightly pulled down his sunglasses to glare at Agent Nicolas.
“You Nicolas?”
“Yes.”
“The money and the list?”
“Got them right here.”
As Agent Nicolas raised the trunk case in his hand, the man smiled sickeningly and demanded in an overbearing tone, “Hand it over.”
“In exchange for my daughter. I’m not handing it over until I see my daughter safe and untouched.”
“You think you’re in a position to set conditions? Enough of your shit, hand the case over already. Or we could just kill you and pry it from your cold, dead fingers.”
“That’s not going to fly. Look closely. The trunk case is tied to my wrist with handcuffs. It’s going to be quite the pain trying to get it off. And furthermore, there’s a dial lock on this case. I’m the only person who knows the code. If you kill me—”
“Stop blabbering on and on already! Hand it over now or I’ll kill you!” The man approached Agent Nicolas while loudly threatening him, his face red and spraying spittle all over. He even took out a knife and started brandishing it ostentatiously.
The conversation was going nowhere. Agent Nicolas was glad that Skinhead was an idiot, but it was going to be a problem if he was too stupid. At this rate, he was in danger of being stabbed by a yakuza with weeds growing inside his head. Nobody would stand to gain anything at all from such a resolution.
As Agent Nicolas tried his best to suppress the urge to smack Skinhead’s face with the case in his hand, he noticed another man with tattoos on his arms approaching from behind Skinhead. Tattoo Man pulled Skinhead off of Nicolas with an exasperated expression, asking, “What are you doing? Let him in already.”
“B-But this guy, he’s fucking pissing me off. Let me sock him—”
“I said, let him in. Do I have to repeat myself a third time?”
Skinhead finally backed off, but not before loudly clicking his tongue once. Then the three of them headed into the warehouse.
The interior of the warehouse turned out to be roughly the size of 4 convenience stores put together. The floor was covered with a rather aged yet still fluffy carpet, and there were sofas placed around the room. The place was illuminated with well-worn incandescent light bulbs dangling from the ceiling.