The Hunter (25 page)

The doctor turned to Takizawa in surprise. Takako quickly transferred her gaze back to the man's right hand. Where at first it had just lain there, now it moved slightly, then slowly it squeezed the doctor's hand. Takizawa looked at Takako, who nodded back at him. Breathlessly they looked at the patient's face. The lower half was hidden by the oxygen mask, but she could see that his face was oval-shaped, with thick eyebrows. Deep wrinkles were etched into the forehead, and around his eyes were lines that could make him look merry when he laughed. There was white netting on his head, through which hair poked here and there; his hair was white. If this was Katsuhiro Takagi, he was fifty-two years old. He looked older.

"Takagi-san, this is a hospital," the doctor spoke again. "Do you understand? You are Katsuhiro Takagi, is that right?"

The man squeezed the doctor's hand again. Now the doctor said, "Open your eyes." The man's eyelids twitched; he seemed to summon all his strength, and opened his eyes. They were unfocused, swimming in space, and started to close again. He was able to resist the impulse, however; the lids trembled but remained half open. His lashes were sparse and wispy.

"Remember?" whispered Takizawa. "There was a fire."

The man's eyes opened wide. He looked around desperately. When his eyes locked onto Takako's, she was unsure what look to give him, and only managed a small reassuring nod.

"It's OK, you're safe now," whispered Takizawa, taking the man's hand from the doctor and holding it in his own. The man turned pleading eyes on Takizawa, and then his gaze swam again. After a moment he pulled his hand away and shakily pointed up.

"If you want to say something, here, use this," Takako said, holding out the
hiragana
board to Takagi. He blinked several times, moving his hand, pointing to different squares:
e
...
mi
...
ko.

"Emiko? Is that your daughter?" asked Takizawa. At these words, the hand that had fallen back on the sheet in exhaustion squeezed his hand again. Stronger, harder than before: Yes.

"She was in a hospital in Saitama, right? She'd just come home for a visit?"

Yes.

"She's twenty-six."

Yes.

The man looked at Takizawa again, then motioned for the board.
Bu . . . ji... ka.
Is she safe? Takako looked at Takizawa. Takizawa pretended to stare at the board. What to do. Tell him the truth? What effect would that have on the interrogation? He could go into shock and that would be it. He'd never talk with them again. Yet they could not rightfully conceal the information from him either.

"She's in critical condition," Takizawa answered. The man looked at him sideways, as if weighing the truth of these words, then closed his eyes. His chest swelled, he heaved a sigh. Of relief? Or despair?

"You probably know this already, but we're police officers."

Yes.

"Is Kasahara your real name?"

Yes.

"It was Takagi before?"

Yes.

"Divorced? You had your wife's name?"

Yes.

"Ah. Well, we'll call you Kasahara then. This morning we saw your house. Burned almost to the ground."

Yes.

"No sign of the dog."

No response.

"What happened to the dog?"

No response.

"The wolf-dog. The one that belongs to you."

No response.

"We knew about it. It was just a matter of time. If we'd gotten to your place a little faster, neither you nor your daughter would've ever been in that fire."

Kasahara slowly opened his eyes. They looked troubled, as if trying again to weigh the truth of Takizawa's words. His eyelids trembled.

Takizawa went on in the gentlest of voices, as if talking to a little child—a voice Takako had never heard before: "It's OK, Kasahara-san. I know you had your reasons. You had to have reasons, right? Once upon a time you were a cop like us."

Yes.

"So you know we have our job to do. When you're able to talk, you can take all the time you want and fill us in."

No response.

"Right now, tell us about that dog that meant so much to you. You let him go, didn't you? "

Yes.

"A wolf-dog, right?"

Yes.

"Male or female? What's its name?"

The hand reached for the board. Takako held it out and watched intently as Kasahara's fingertip pointed in succession
to ha ... ya ... te.

"Hayate.
Gale?" she said, interrupting. "Like the wind?"

Takako's mouth tightened. Kasahara nodded weakly, then indicated the wolf-dog was male.

"Where's Gale now?" asked Takizawa.

No response.

"No idea?"

No response.

Takako peered intently at Kasahara's face. He was shaking his head, the movement barely perceptible. It wasn't that he didn't want to answer, his eyes said that he did not know.

"You don't know where he is, do you?" said Takako softly.

Yes.

"But you trained him, didn't you?" said Takizawa. "Trained him to attack people."

Slowly Kasahara gripped Takizawa's hand and squeezed it: yes. Then he seemed to fall back, exhausted. The doctor, who had been watching wordlessly in the background, now stepped forward and said, "Better make this all for today."

"All right. Just one more question." With his trademark persistence, Takizawa, called out to the former cop, who was drifting back to sleep: "Kasahara, Kasahara!" He had dropped the
san.
"Who burned down your house?"

No response.

Takizawa didn't give up: "Kasahara! Hey!" After a few moments, once again Kasahara's hand moved feebly.

"You know something about that fire?"

Yes.

"Then tell us! A place, a name, anything!"

Again, no response. Frustrated, Takizawa called Kasahara's name again and again.

"That's it. He can't take any more of this," said the doctor, but Takizawa ignored him, bellowing, "Kasahara! You give me a name! Who burned down your house? You know, don't you?"

Weakly, Kasahara's eyes opened. Sought the board. Takako, scarcely able to bear watching, held it out once more. The shaking hand struggled to find the letters it sought. From the corner of one eye a stream of tears fell. Was this pain, or remorse, or sadness?

"That's the way, come on, give us a name!"

A strange cheering section. Still, as if encouraged by Takizawa's voice, Kasahara's hand moved across the board:
o
...
ga
...
wa.

"Ogawa? Somebody you know?"

No response.

"I have to insist. That's all for today," said the doctor. "Tomorrow he'll be stronger."

This time Takizawa meekly withdrew. Takako studied Kasahara, who lay as if dead, unmoving, eyes shut. Not knowing that his daughter had perished, he himself hovered between life and death. Using a wolf-dog named Gale, he had brought about the deaths of two people. Yet how weak and helpless he was now. Even for a burn victim, his eyes trembled with such sadness. The lines cut in his face, the white hair poking through the netting, all made him look at least ten years older than he was.

"Call headquarters," Takizawa, taking out a cigarette, barked to Takako as they left the ICU. Takako pulled out her cellphone, imagining the wolf-dog flying across the snow like the wind which was his name.

Gale.

She had a feeling they would never catch him. Part of her even wished they wouldn't. But she was going to try.

"Good work. Meeting starts at four. You'll be back by then, right?" Chief Wakita rattled off to her, even more rapidly than usual.

After she hung up, Takako went back over and stood next to Takizawa, feeling so exhausted she could collapse. She had to get something to eat, had to get some rest.

"With this weather," Takizawa said, "we'd better get an early start. Let's head back."

The uniformed officers standing at every bend of the corridor had all been replaced by the next shift. Outside, the snow was falling a little less, but it was still coming down. Takako and Takizawa wandered around the parking lot before finding the unmarked police car Takako had driven over, now piled high with snow.

She was opening the door to the driver's side, when Takizawa stopped her. "Forget it. With this much snow on the road, your driving would scare the hell out of me."

He took the key from her and lost no time jumping in the driver's seat. She climbed into the passenger seat uncomplainingly. Hunger and tension had combined to drive away her drowsiness, but she was so cold she couldn't stop shivering.

"Damn, it's freezing in here," Takizawa said as he punched on the heater and switched on the wireless radio. Out of the radio came a stream of police messages transmitting back and forth in the area; out of the fan came a stream of warm air.

"Now, if only we were done for the day." Waiting for the engine to heat up, Takizawa let this thought escape. Takako smiled wanly and looked out the window without comment. Finally Takizawa pulled out of the space, but once out the hospital gate, they were stuck in a traffic jam. On all sides were drivers who had set out despite the morning's snow, never thinking it would pile up to this extent.

"Guys in the Traffic Division will have their hands full today," Takizawa said with a wry smile, looking out at the cars. He didn't seem in much of a hurry, inching the car along. As if remembering something, he looked over at her. "You've got dark circles under your eyes."

"I do?"

He twisted one side of his mouth in a wry grin and said, "Don't knock yourself out. I won't attack you or anything; get some sleep until we get back to the station. Lack of sleep is bad for your looks, I hear."

"I'll be fine."

"I knew you'd say that." This time he laughed out loud. "You ladies can't lie down and catnap anytime you want, the way we can. Go ahead and be stubborn if you want, but if you collapse when the crunch comes, others will catch the fallout. I'll tell you something: A woman who's always got something to prove isn't exactly adorable."

"Adorable is not my style."

"I noticed." Takizawa turned his gaze back to the road.

I
may have circles and bags under my eyes but what about you, face covered in bruises? Hah! We're like a couple of panda bears.

Still, he meant well. He was trying to look out for her. But she'd resolved she wasn't going to let her guard down. Besides, she couldn't let go of what she'd witnessed in the ICU just now. That was the most pitiful suspect she had ever encountered in her entire career.

Come to think of it, Kasahara was younger than her father, who would be sixty next year; yet Kasahara seemed far older, like a very old man. No peaceful, golden years for him. He faced arrest, indictment, trial, sentencing—and a long time in jail. Even if he was sentenced to death, it would take years before the sentence was upheld, the Minister of Justice affixed his seal to the papers, and the execution took place.

Gale.

Just as Kasahara would never see his daughter again, he'd never see his wolf-dog again. Even if they managed to capture the animal, the two of them would never live together again.

"Sergeant Takizawa."

Hearing his name, Takizawa looked at her in surprise. "What, you're not asleep?" he said.

"You think Kasahara has any other family?"

"I dunno. Probably somebody's checking it out."

"What will become of Gale—the wolf-dog—after he's captured?"

Takizawa folded his hands on the steering wheel and rested his chin on them. "Hmm," he said. "If we ever catch the dog, I suppose it'll be destroyed. The thing's killed two people."

She was silent.

"The wolf-dog is important evidence, so they'll probably keep it alive till the trial's over, at least."

Then let the trial be a long one, she thought hazily. In killing two people, all Gale did was follow his master's orders. He was innocent. If there was anyone willing to take him in, let him live.

"Ogawa.... Damn. Who's this Ogawa?" This slipped out from Takizawa.

As she looked out the window at the snow-blanketed scenery, Takako slowly relaxed into drowsiness. On the verge of sleep, her eyes popped open. "Does the name mean something to you?"

"I'm tryna think," Takizawa said. His swollen profile facing her, he still rested his chin on the steering wheel. Ahead, a flashing red light came into view. As their car slowly approached the scene, they could see that it was a police car. At the side of the road were three cars involved in a collision. Takizawa leaned over toward Takako's side of the car, checking out the accident and clucking his tongue in vague amusement.

"There's always a joker who causes an accident like this. You can bet on it."

Takako looked out at the uniformed officers walking around in leather coats and snow-covered caps. She didn't recognize either the officer with a measuring tape, his breath coming out in white puffs, or the officer talking to a driver. Small wonder. The MPD alone had 45,000 police officers. They were divided among eight different divisions—the Traffic Division, the Daily Life Safety Division, the Public Security Division, the Criminal Investigation Division, ... as well as adjunct institutions like the police academy. There had to be five thousand officers in each division. Nobody could remember that many faces.