The second hand of the mechanical wall clock ticked forward.
Tick.
The Chief of the Special Investigation Department sat behind his desk.
He'd held the same posture for ten minutes — ever since Prime Minister Toshiki Kaifu made his demand. Cold sweat ran down his back.
He swallowed.
His eyes moved from the micro-cassette on the desk to the red phone beside it.
The line ran direct to the House of Representatives liaison desk.
Across from him, Prime Minister Toshiki Kaifu sat with his eyes half-closed.
His hands were folded on his knees. His breathing was steady, almost like he was asleep.
Ring—!
The red phone erupted.
The Chief jerked.
He drew a breath, grabbed the receiver with a trembling hand, and pressed it to his ear.
"Chief." The liaison officer at Parliament kept his voice low. He was shaking, gasping. "The House plenary vote is done. Approve votes exceeded two-thirds. The request for arrest authorization of Osawa Ichiro… officially passed."
The Chief's heart slammed against his ribs.
"Understood."
His voice came out dry. He set the receiver back gently.
At the soft click, Prime Minister Toshiki Kaifu opened his eyes.
He stayed upright.
He extended his right hand and slowly, carefully adjusted the cuff of his dark suit.
"The procedural barrier is cleared, Chief." Kaifu looked at him, tone calm. "Go and execute the nation's laws."
The Chief swallowed.
He stood, opened the side drawer, and took out the red arrest warrant. A judge had already signed it. It only needed execution.
He picked up the heavy brass seal of judicial authority.
He pressed it twice into the red ink pad, then held it over the white warrant.
When this seal landed, Japan's political landscape would shatter.
The Chief held his breath and brought his wrist down.
Thud.
A dull thud filled the office.
The seal hit the paper with a thousand tons of weight.
The bright red mark sank into the fiber, like a pool of blood.
Underground parking garage.
A dozen deep-black Special Investigation Department cars idled.
The heavy engines hummed, sending dull vibrations through the concrete space.
Headlights turned the pillars ghastly white.
Dozens of investigators in black suits stood grim-faced by the doors.
The elevator doors slid open.
The Section Chief of the First Investigation Division rushed out.
He held the arrest warrant high, the red seal vivid. His voice boomed through the garage.
"Execution order issued! All units move! Target is Minato City!"
"Yes!"
Clatter—
Car doors opened and slammed shut in unison.
Tires screeched.
Like unleashed hounds, the black cars surged up the ramp one after another.
Red and blue lights tore through the dim Kasumigaseki sky.
Sirens wailed, merging into a deafening wave as they roared toward Minato City.
Minato City. Osawa Ichiro's private residence, second-floor study.
Osawa was still slumped on the wooden floor.
His tie was ripped off and tossed aside.
His once-perfect hair was a mess.
He looked like a caged animal.
His chest heaved. Fear made his breathing heavy.
Oh… right, the United States… they were going to honor their promise…
He scrambled up, hands and feet scrabbling, and lunged for the mahogany desk.
He grabbed the encrypted phone.
His fingers shook so hard from panic that he misdialed several times before hitting the number he'd memorized.
Beep—beep—
A long wait.
Each dial tone shredded his nerves.
Click.
The call connected.
"Minister William!" Osawa didn't bother with protocol. He shouted into the receiver. "It's me! Osawa! My trump card was stolen! That bastard Kaifu took those things to the Special Investigation Department!"
He panted, spittle hitting the black plastic.
"You must keep your promise! I need political asylum now! Send a car! Get me to the U.S. Embassy immediately!"
Silence for a few seconds.
Then William's voice came through — the Economic Minister at the U.S. Embassy in Japan.
William's tone was calm. Almost elegant.
"Mr. Osawa. The United States is very grateful for your outstanding contributions to promoting international free trade."
"You are a great reformer."
Osawa's shoulders dropped.
He exhaled, foul air rushing out. He'd grabbed his last straw.
"Thank you, Minister. Then please hurry and send someone…"
"However."
William's tone turned.
The gentleness vanished. In its place: cold, hard diplomatic language.
"The United States also respects the independence of the Japanese judiciary. We have no right to interfere in the internal affairs of our allies. That would violate U.S. principles."
"Regarding your personal involvement in corruption and political slush funds during your tenure, Washington expresses its deep regrets."
Osawa's pupils dilated. His lips trembled.
"William! You bastard! You can't do this! I broke down those barriers for you!"
"Good luck, Mr. Osawa."
Beep—
The call cut.
The dial tone echoed in the study.
Osawa held the receiver, frozen.
At the same second the tone started —
Downstairs.
Bang!!!
A deafening crash ripped through the mansion.
The first-floor security door was forced open by a hydraulic ram.
The heavy metal panel slammed the wall. Boom.
Boots hit the floor. Stern shouts from Special Investigation Department investigators filled the stairs.
"Secure all exits! Target is on the second floor!"
The phone slipped from Osawa's hand and hit the desk.
No… no no no no!!!
The study door was forced open.
The heavy panel hit the wall bumper. Thud.
Several Special Investigation Department prosecutors in black suits and armed bailiffs flooded in.
The lead prosecutor walked to the mahogany desk.
He pulled an arrest warrant with the highest judicial red seal from his jacket and held it in front of Osawa's eyes.
"Parliament Member Osawa Ichiro."
The prosecutor's voice had no emotion. Fast. Precise.
"We are from the Special Investigation Department of the Tokyo District Public Prosecutors Office. You are suspected of serious violations of the Political Funds Control Act and the sale of national economic secrets. The House of Representatives passed the request for your arrest authorization ten minutes ago."
"We are now executing an emergency arrest under the law."
Osawa's eyes were bloodshot. He scrambled back, his back hitting the desk edge.
"How dare you arrest me?! I am the ruling party's secretary-general!" Osawa screamed, hands flailing. "That puppet Kaifu framed me… the Americans promised they would protect me! Let me make a call! I want to see the U.S. Minister!"
The prosecutor tilted his head.
Two burly bailiffs stepped forward.
One on each side, they clamped Osawa's flailing arms and dragged his massive frame from behind the desk.
Osawa thrashed, leather shoes kicking the carpet.
Cold stainless steel cuffs snapped onto his shaking wrists.
Click.
The metal teeth locked.
A bailiff shook out a heavy dark-blue windbreaker and threw it over Osawa's head and cuffed hands.
"Move!"
Osawa's legs gave out. A wheeze came from his throat.
Half-carried, he was dragged stumbling from the study and down the stairs.
The moment he was hauled through the main gate —
The street outside was packed with media who'd gotten the tip.
Metropolitan Police riot squads had set up yellow-black tape, but it didn't stop the microphones and recorders surging forward.
"Secretary-General Osawa! Is the rumor about foreign slush funds true!"
"Was your push for the bill yesterday a deal with Washington!"
"Please say a few words! Mr. Osawa! Have you been purged!"
Reporters shouted like hyenas scenting blood. Questions were sharp, insulting.
Recorders pushed through the tape, right in the bailiffs' faces.
Camera flashes fired under the dim sky.
Click! Click! Click!
Merging into a blinding sea of white.
Osawa's head was covered by the windbreaker.
In the flashes and jeers, he shrank his neck like a frightened bird, but the bailiffs forced him into the backseat of the police car by the neck.
Maybe heaven rewarded the reporters.
The white flash caught the gap in the windbreaker, lighting his face — blue stubble, pale, twisted.
A "traitor of the century" had finished his mission.