In the elevator down from Pacific Investments, Akiko sent a message that the tech guys had got a hit on a car outside the Azabu apartment. She sent the name and address of a foreigner living in Mejiro to whom the license plate was registered. Hiroshi read out the address, and Ishii inputted it to the car’s navigation.
Hiroshi settled into the back seat. “An American. A different one than the father who took the girls.”
“We don’t know that yet, do we?” Ishii sped north to Mejiro Station.
Takamatsu rolled down his window and lit a cigarette. He seemed lost in thought and unusually quiet.
A few minutes west of the station, Ishii turned down on a narrow lane lined by two-story homes and unit apartments built right to the curb. Ishii slowed to avoid utility poles, community bulletin boards,
