From Ikebukuro, Hiroshi took the Yurakucho Line toward Edogawabashi Station. He wondered if Takamatsu knew how to find Nozaki. He probably did and would go find him. And not answer his phone until he did. He should have insisted on going with him.
The dull yellow lights of the passing stations cast a balance of light and dark into the train car, making him drowsy and roused, a bad combination. Usually, a train ride, even a short one, cleared his head. But with this case, his head was full of nothing. He needed two monitors for his brain.
Where would a father go if he were taking his kids out of Japan? He’d slip out wherever he could. Private transports were rarely searched, rarely recorded. Several scam artists he’d tracked had escaped that way after ripping off elderly pensioners, leav
