Underneath I'm wearing a charcoal waistcoat and suit pants with a white shirt. Black tie. Clients expect a high-end PI to look a certain way. Doesn't mean I need to sacrifice function for form though.

The pants, waistcoat and shirt all have micro-armour weaves. Handy for turning bullets aside. From a distance of course.

My coat is carbon cloth. Waterproof, and not too bad at stopping knives either.

Heading for the bedroom, I hang up the coat and take off my boots, placing them neatly side by side underneath it.

 

"While you were out, you received one new message Mister Yamagoto."

Sandi appears as a blue holographic image in the bedroom.

"Home or office line?"

"Office."

"From who?"

"A lady by the name of Mariko Satoshi."

I frown.

"Never heard of her."
"She said that she would appreciate it if you could get in touch with her as soon as possible. The matter is quite urgent."

I slip off my shoulder holster and place it on my bedside table, before heading to my closet. A huge walk in affair about the same size as the living room in my old apartment.

Sliding aside a rack of suits, I hit a hidden switch and a section of the wall retracts to reveal a small gun safe. I'd liked the Smith & Wesson, but since it's currently taking up residence on the bottom of Atoyama Bay, I needed a new weapon.

"Did she say it was urgent or was that your impression?"

"Both. She seemed quite distressed, and she also said that she needs your help. She doesn't know where else to go."

I sigh.

"Alright. Call her back. I'll see what I can do."

"Yes Mister Yamagoto."

 

Opening the safe door, I take a quick look at the collection of weapons in there. Not that there's a lot. A Sig 570 pistol and an HK RX submachine gun.

As I pick up the pistol, there's a whirr and three blue lights appear along the barrel. I nod and put it aside.

As the call is going through, I take off my waistcoat and shirt and examine the spot where Montreta hit me. It's a purple splotch on my abdomen, about the size of a cantaloupe. Not my first injury from a synth. There's a scar going from the bottom right side of my neck to my clavicle from where another one tried to separate my head from my body with a fire axe a couple of years ago.

 

"Mister Yamagoto? I have Miss Satoshi on the line."

"Put her through."

A second later, a woman's voice comes through the apartment speakers.

"Detective Yamagoto?"

It's only two words, but I can hear the pain in her voice.

"Miss Satoshi. I understand you wanted to speak to me."

I grab a T-shirt from a rack and take my motorcycle armour off its stand.

"Yes. Please, I need your help. It's my daughter. She's disappeared."

Not the first time I've had a case like this. Disappearances are fairly common in the city. Hardly ever ends well. Most are never found. The ones that are? Well, their never the same. Not that I can tell her that. The poor woman sounds like she's already in enough pain.

That's a problem. Dealing with emotions was never my strong suit.

"When you say disappeared, do you think she simply left of her own accord or is it something else?"

"I mean she's been kidnapped detective."

 

That stops me. 

 

A memory slams into me harder than Montreta's punch at the docks.

I shake it off. Quickly.

"Kidnapped? You're sure?"

"Absolutely. I called the Police. They said they were investigating it, and then, about a week later, they said they didn't have the resources to spare and had to close the case. Since then, I've been trying to find someone who could help. No-one has."

I sigh again.

Turning back to the closet, I hang up my T-shirt and put the motorcycle gear back on its stand. Grabbing a fresh shirt instead, I put my waistcoat and tie back on and scoop up the Sig and my holster.

"Okay, Miss Satoshi. Give Sandi your address and I'll be over to speak to you as soon as possible."

"Thank you detective."

As the call ends, I hear a faint sob.