SIX FOUR

Hideo Yokoyama

Translated from the Japanese by Jonathan Lloyd-Davies

THE NIGHTMARE NO PARENT COULD ENDURE.

THE CASE NO DETECTIVE COULD SOLVE.
THE TWIST NO READER COULD PREDICT.

The Japanese crime sensation that sold

a millon copies in six days.
Ranked the Number 1 Domestic Mystery of 2012
by the weekly magazine Shukan Bunshun.
The Number 1 Mystery Title of 2013, as rated
by Japanese readers.
Popularly considered the foremost Japanese
crime novel of the century.

Continuing Quercus track record of publishing

trailblazing international crime fiction.
Published March 2016

First published in the Japanese language as Rokuyon (64)

by Bungeishunju in Tokyo in 2012
First published in Great Britain in 2016 by
Quercus Publishing Ltd
Carmelite House
50 Victoria Embankment
London EC4Y 0DZ
An Hachette UK company
Copyright 2012 Hideo Yokoyama
English translation copyright 2016 Jonathan Lloyd-Davies
The moral right of Hideo Yokoyama to be
identified as the author of this work has been
asserted in accordance with the Copyright,
Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication
may be reproduced or transmitted in any form
or by any means, electronic or mechanical,
including photocopy, recording, or any
information storage and retrieval system,
without permission in writing from the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available
from the British Library
ISBN 978 1 84866 525 5 (HB)
ISBN 978 1 84866 526 2 (TPB)
ISBN 978 1 78429 984 2 (EBOOK)
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
businesses, organizations, places and events are
either the product of the authors imagination
or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events or
locales is entirely coincidental.
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Typeset by <t/c>
Printed and bound in Great Britain by Clays Ltd, St Ives plc

Chapter one
Snowflakes danced through the evening light.
The mans legs were stiff as he stepped from the taxi. A forensics official in a policeissue overcoat was waiting outside the entrance to the station. He ushered the man inside.
They passed a work area for duty officers and continued along a gloomy corridor before
taking a side door out to the officers parking area.
The mortuary stood by itself at the far end of the grounds, a windowless structure with
a tin roof. The low rumbling of the extractor fan told him there was a body inside. The
official unlocked the door and stepped back. He gave the man a deferential look, indicating
he would wait outside.
I forgot to pray.
Yoshinobu Mikami pushed on the door. The hinges groaned. His eyes and nose
registered Cresol. He could feel the tips of Minakos fingers digging through the fabric of his
coat, into his elbow. Light glared down from the ceiling. The waist-high examination table
was covered in blue vinyl sheeting; above it, a human shape was visible under a white sheet.
Mikami recoiled at the indeterminate size, too small for an adult but clearly not a child.
Ayumi
He swallowed the word, afraid that voicing his daughters name might make the body
hers.
He began to peel back the white cloth.
Hair. Forehead. Closed eyes. Nose, lips chin.
The pale face of a dead girl came into view. In the same moment the frozen air began
to circulate again; Minakos forehead pushed against his shoulder. The pressure receded from
the fingers at his elbow.

Mikami was staring at the ceiling, breathing out from deep in his gut. There was no
need to inspect the body further. The journey from Prefecture D by bullet train then taxi
had taken four hours, but the process of identifying the corpse had been over in seconds. A
young girl; drowned, suicide. They had wasted no time after receiving the call. The girl, they
were told, had been found in a lake a little after midday.
Her chestnut hair was still damp. She looked fifteen or sixteen, perhaps a little older.
She hadnt been in the water for long. There were no signs of bloating, and the slender
outline running from her forehead to her cheeks was, along with her childlike lips, unbroken,
preserved as though she were still alive.
It seemed a bitter irony. The girls delicate features were, he supposed, the kind
Ayumi had always longed for. Even now, three months later, Mikami was still unable to think
back on what had happened with a cool head.
There had been a noise from Ayumis room upstairs. A frenzied sound, like
somebody trying to kick through the floor. Her mirror was in pieces. Shed been sitting with
the lights off in the corner of her room. Punching, scratching her face, trying to tear it apart: I
hate this face. I want to die.
Mikami faced the dead girl and pressed his hands together. She would have parents,
too. They would have to come to this place, maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, and face up to
the awful reality.
Lets get out of here.
His voice was hoarse. Something dry was caught in his throat.
Minako seemed vacant; she made no attempt to nod. Her swollen pupils were like
glass beads, empty of thought or emotion. This wasnt their first time in the last three
months they had already identified two bodies of Ayumis age.

Outside, the snow had turned to sleet. Three figures stood breathing chalky clouds in
the dark of the parking area.
A great relief.
The pale, clearly good-natured station captain proffered his card with a hesitant smile.
He was in full uniform, even though it was outside working hours. The same was true of the
director, and of the section chief of Criminal Investigations flanking his sides. Mikami
recognized it as a sign of respect, in case hed identified the girl as his daughter.
He gave them a low bow. Thank you for getting in touch so quickly.
Not at all. Were all police. Skipping any further formalities, the captain turned to
gesture at the building and said, Come in, you should warm up a little.
There was a nudge in the back of Mikamis coat. He turned and caught Minakos
imploring gaze. She wanted to leave as soon as possible. He felt the same way.
Thats very kind, but we should get going. We have a train to catch.
No, no, you should stay. Weve arranged a hotel.
We appreciate your consideration, but we really do need to go. I have to work
tomorrow.
When he said this, the captains gaze dropped to the card in his hands.
Superintendent Yoshinobu Mikami. Press Director. Inspector, Administrative Affairs
Department, Personnel Division. Prefecture D Police Headquarters.
He sighed as he looked back up.
It must be tough, having to deal with the press.
It can be, Mikami said evasively. He could picture the mutinous faces of the
reporters hed left back in Media Relations. They had been in the middle of a heated
argument over the format of press releases when the call had come in to notify him of the
drowned girl. He had got to his feet and walked out without a word, earning the wrath of the

reporters, who were unaware of his family situation: Were not finished here. Are you
running away, Mikami?
Have you been in Media Relations long? The captain looked sympathetic. In district
stations, relations with the press were handled by the stations vice-captain or vice-director;
in smaller, regional stations, it was the captain himself who stood in the firing line.
Just since the spring. Although I had a brief stint there a long time ago.
Have you always worked in Administrative Affairs?
No. I spent a long time as a detective in Second Division. Even now, this
engendered a certain amount of pride.
The captain nodded uncertainly. It was unlikely, even in the regional headquarters,
that he had seen any examples of detectives switching into the role of press director.
I would imagine, with your insights into Criminal Investigations, that the press might
actually listen to you.
I certainly hope so.
You know, its a bit of a problem here. There are certain reporters who like to
write what they please, true or not.
The captain scowled and, without changing his expression, waved towards the garage.
Mikami was troubled to see the front lights of the captains black car flick on. The taxi hed
kept waiting was nowhere to be seen. There was another nudge in his back, but he was
hesitant at this point to call another taxi and upset the well-meaning captain.
It was already dark when they drove to the station.
Here, this is the lake, the captain said from the passenger seat, sounding a little
awestruck as a deeper stretch of darkness appeared beyond the window to the right. The
internet really is appalling. There is a horrible website, the Top Ten Suicide Spots this
lake is listed there. Theyve given it an eerie name, something like the Lake of Promise.

The Lake of Promise?

It looks like a heart, depending on the angle. The website makes the claim that it
grants you true love in the next life; the girl today, she was the fourth. We had one come all
the way from Tokyo not too long ago. The press decided to run an article, and now weve got
the TV to deal with.
Thats terrible.
Absolutely. Its a disgrace, peddling articles about a suicide. If we had had time,
Mikami, I would have liked to ask you for some pointers in dealing with them.
As if he were uncomfortable with silence, the captain continued to talk. For his part,
Mikami lacked the will to carry out any animated conversation. While he was thankful for the
captains tact, his responses became increasingly terse.
It was a mistake. It wasnt Ayumi. His thoughts were joyless all the same; no different
to those on the journey out. To pray she wasnt their daughter. He knew all too well that this
was the same as wishing she was someone elses.
Minako was perfectly still at his side. Their shoulders pressed together. Hers felt
abnormally frail.
The car turned at a junction. The bright light of the train station came into view
directly ahead of them. The square in front of the building was wide and spacious, strewn
with a few commemorative monuments. It was almost empty of people. Mikami had heard
that the building of the station was the result of political manoeuvring; no one had thought to
consider actual passenger numbers.
Theres no need to get out, youll only get wet, Mikami said quickly. He had the
rear passenger door halfway open, but the captain beat him out of the car regardless. The
mans face was flushed red.

Please accept my apologies for the unreliable information and the trouble youve
taken to come here. We thought, well, from her height and the position of the mole that she
might be I just hope we havent caused you too much distress.
Of course not.
Mikami waved a hand to dismiss the idea, but the captain took hold of it.
This will work out. Your daughter is alive and well. We will find her. You have
260,000 friends looking for her, around the clock.
Mikami remained in a low bow, watching the tail lights as the captains car pulled
away. Minakos neck was getting wet in the cold rain. He pulled her slight form close and
started towards the station. The light from a police box one of the koban caught his eye.
An old man, possibly a drunk, was sitting on the road, fending off the restraining arms of a
young policeman.
260,000 friends.
There was no exaggeration in the captains words. District stations. Koban.
Substations. Ayumis picture had been sent to police departments across the nation. Officers
he would neither know nor recognize were keeping watch day and night for news of his
daughter, as if she were their own. The police force family. It inspired confidence, and he
was indebted not a single day went by in which he wasnt thankful for being part of such a
powerful and far-reaching organization. And yet
Mikami bit down on the cold air. He had never imagined it. That his need for help
could have become such a critical weakness.
Submission.
Now and then, his blood felt ready to boil. He could never tell Minako.
To find your missing daughter. To hold her alive in your arms. Mikami doubted there
was anything a parent wouldnt put themselves through in order to achieve such a goal.

An announcement rang out along the train platform.

Inside, the train was marked by empty seats. Mikami ushered Minako to a window
seat, then whispered, The captains right. Shes safe. Shes doing okay.
Minako said nothing.
Theyll find her soon. You dont need to worry.
yes.
We had the calls, remember? She wants to come back. Its just pride. Youll see, one
day soon, shell just turn up.
Minako was as hollow-looking as before. Her elegant features shone in the dark
window of the train. She looked worn. She had given up on make-up and hairdressers. How
would she feel, though, if she realized this only served to draw attention to the natural,
effortless beauty of her features?
Mikamis face was also in the window. He saw a phantom image of Ayumi.
She had cursed the way shed taken after him.
She had made her mothers beauty the focus of her anger.
He slowly pulled his eyes away from the window. It was temporary. Like the measles.
Sooner or later, she would come to her senses. Then she would come home with her tongue
stuck out, like she had done when she made mistakes as a small girl. She couldnt genuinely
hate them, want to cause them pain, not Ayumi.
The train rocked a little. Minako was resting against his shoulder. Her irregular
breathing made it hard to know if it she was groaning or just asleep.
Mikami closed his eyes.
The window was still there, under his eyelids, reflecting the ill-matched husband and
wife.