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“I’ve heard that complaint so many times that I’m starting to despise myself. More importantly, about the attackers…,” I continued while indicating the fallen assailants with my gaze.
“You said they shot at you while you were in Ango’s room?”
Dazai listened attentively as I briefly explained what had happened at the hotel.
“I see. That sniper rifle was probably stolen from our armory,” he claimed once I’d finished. “Look at his waist. He’s carrying an old-fashioned pistol, right?”
When I looked down at the attackers, I noticed they both had early-model pistols hidden under their ragged clothes—gray handguns with narrow muzzles.
“These are rather old European pistols. Given their low accuracy and firing rate, they’re not ideal for narrow alleys like this.”
He took the gun off one of the bodies and stared at it with great interest.
“This pistol is probably more like an emblem to these men—something that indicates who they are.”
Dazai seemed to be much more knowledgeable about the attackers than I was.
“Just who are they?” I asked.
“Mimic.”
“‘Mimic’…?”
I’d never heard of an organization by that name before.
“I don’t know much about them yet, but they’re apparently a European criminal organization. All I can say right now is that they came to Japan for some reason and that they’re in conflict with the Port Mafia.”
Rivalries between the Port Mafia and other criminal organizations weren’t uncommon. Even in and around Yokohama, there were groups that competed with the Mafia over turf. Outside the reaches of the government’s watchful eyes, the Yokohama Settlement was inhabited by countless outlaws who fought over territory. Dirty money came to this tax haven from all over the world to be cleaned, helping corporate crime and mercenary businesses thrive. It wouldn’t be strange for a criminal organization from abroad to come over to make easy profits. But how many crime syndicates in the world had a professional sniper with a spotter?
Dazai seemed to have figured out what I was thinking from the quizzical look on my face.
“In any case, I’m in the middle of investigating the specifics,” he stated with a shrug. “But maybe we’ll find something out from the fact that they had a sniper aimed at Ango’s room.”
“They wanted to get this safe back,” I said while holding up the item in question. “I found it in Ango’s room, but I can’t open it without the key. We might be able to learn something if we could just open—”
“That’s it?” Dazai gave a disappointed smile. “Piece of cake. Here, let me see it.”
I handed him the safe, which he immediately shook, listening to the sound it made. Then he shuffled through the trash on the ground until he found a safety pin. After slightly bending the tip with his finger, he stuck it in the keyhole and wiggled it around. Not even a second went by before I heard the gear inside the safe click.
“Okay, it’s open.”
This man had a gift.
“Now, let’s see what’s inside.”
Dazai opened the lid and took a peek. I could also see it from where I was standing.
.
What did this mean?
I found this safe in Ango’s room. The wooden stool, the fact that this was hidden in the air vent—I think it’s fair to say Ango knew about it. If I was being honest with myself, I’d have said the contents probably belonged to Ango.
Deep down, I’d imagined that whatever was in the safe was something valuable. I thought it was something Ango had gotten his hands on, and the attackers in gray had tried to kill me in order to steal it.
But I was wrong.
Inside the safe was an old-fashioned gray gun.
