I started with data collection; the initial step in any investigation. I tried to find all the mentions of Tokyo blackouts. If there were any investigations related to them, but strangely there weren't any. I thought that having a blackout for about an hour around each month would lead to public backlash, but the only backlash I saw was a minor one on social media with the government and utility company just shifting the blame on each other. Investigations led to the conclusion that the issue was related to increased consumption, and major investments were needed to avoid such issues in the future. That looked like a dead end to me.
I decided to investigate all of the people who died before the blackouts, as something was telling me there might be a commonality there. A hidden thread, invisible but tangible, bounding them together. What could have linked an overworked salaryman, a reclusive NEET untouched by social media's reach, and a high-school prodigy with a promising future?
A large, blank canvas of Tokyo's landscape was tacked to the wall of my makeshift home office. I pushed pins into the map and drew routes targets took based on publicly available information from databases and social networks. I doubled everything on my computer, but every time I jabbed a pin I felt myself inside a Sherlock Holmes book. Red pins stained the places where lives had allegedly ended. Blue ones marked the victims' residences, while yellow dots, sprinkled like breadcrumbs across the city, traced the places they would frequent according to their social media.
At first glance, the yellow pins scattered without an apparent pattern across the city—workplaces, schools, cafes, karaoke bars, gaming centers. But the red and blue markers told a different tale. Sites of accidents were in areas devoid of car accidents otherwise, while blue marks were grouped in clusters in the western parts of Tokyo. People usually died on their regular routes not far from where they lived or studied/worked.
I looked at the online map, only to find these sites usually barren of any businesses, big shops, or any distinctive landmarks. But that's most of Tokyo. This absence of data whispered amid the cacophony of other information, hinting at something amiss. The victims fell almost invariably on their routine paths—from work or school to home. That wasn't unusual, but I knew something was missing.
I "walked the streets" via street view maps. I searched not only for what was there, but most importantly for what was absent.
What was there - usually 40 or 30 km max speed signs and comfy-looking residential areas. A couple of the roads even had 8-20km with "no trucks" signs. Now you tell me this is not strange! I noticed myself grinning.
Nothing felt right, leading me to step outside for a smoke. A CCTV camera at the entrance caught my attention. I went back to my laptop and looked at the sites again.
Out of 22 places, 21 had no cameras. Only one had, but it was not looking at the direction of the most probable place of the accident. There were not many CCTVs in the area whatsoever. But Japan didn't have many anyway.
The anomalies piled up, becoming too significant to dismiss as mere coincidence. Spy and Murder theories have a higher probability, but Suicide cults: have less. A speeding truck on a one-lane no-truck 20km/h limit road felt like an unrealistic option for suicidal people, and to be honest too sloppy for intelligence agencies, but I have seen before how sloppy secret services can work.
Relying solely on data wasn't enough anymore; I needed insights from the ground. It was time to reach out to my contacts in Japan. I skimmed through my contacts list looking for Inspector Nobu's phone from the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. A couple of years back, I had helped Nobu with an investigative report on a case of corruption within his department. Since then, we have nurtured mutual respect and a beneficial professional relationship. He owed his promotion to me and I sensed that he was an honorable man, so it was the safest bet.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Picking up my phone, I dialed Nobu's number. As it rang, my eyes darted across the map, dancing over the constellation of dots.
"Hello, it's been a while," Nobu answered, his voice as gruff as I remembered.
We exchanged pleasantries and small talk before I brought up the reason for my call. First I asked if maybe he had some interesting stories to cover, and after a negative response, I asked him about the truck cases, as if I was assuming there is a serial killer on a truck. The eerie absence of CCTV footage, the cluster of deaths at highly unlikely locations, and the predominance of prodigies among the victims - it all suggested something sinister like a serial killer. I wasn't planning to voice Josh's idea that it was their foreign intelligence agency.
My suspicions were met with silence on the other end, but I heard him typing something. Nobu had probably looked for something on his computer. His voice hardened as he informed me that these cases had already been investigated and closed as unfortunate accidents. "I remember one of the cases. There's no murder here. Please don't touch these stories. The families have suffered through enough," he said. His tone was a bit harsher than usual, and slightly defensive.
Nobu was a by-the-book police officer, I had never known him to stonewall an inquiry. Maybe I was not the first one to inquire about the cases, or he had to deliver the news himself which was very unlikely.
His voice gave up slight insecurity. He was hiding something he saw on his computer or something he knew. But what? He shouldn't have had clearance to intelligence secrets. Had other police officers tried to investigate this? Was what he was looking at marked as needing higher clearance?
"Thanks, Nobu, if you say it was already investigated it's good to know, I'll look at other potential stories in this case. If you find something in need of reporting, give me a call!"
I lied to him with my most honest voice. If anything, Nobu's evasiveness only solidified my conviction that there was more to these accidents than met the eye.
To uncover the truth, I realized, I would have to fly to Japan myself and do things like they taught us in intelligence. I hoped I had not lost my skills.
***
My plan was set. I grabbed my camera bag, stuffing it with my most trusted lenses that survived Tingal, and began to pack my essentials. My laptop, notepad, pens, old audio recorder, extra batteries, lockpicks and disguise kits - these were the tools of my trade,a and my other old trade I was a conflict journalist without a war, searching for a new battlefield; this was my cover, and it wasn't far from the truth. The best cover is a real one.
I felt more confident to tackle the possible challenges ahead. I tossed my drone into the bag for good measure. Its potential for scouting was revealed to me in Tingal, when rebels asked me to lend it to them. Not to mention, it might have helped me capture some stunning images of Tokyo, should I have needed to sell the story of being a photographer exploring the Land of the Rising Sun.
I booked a direct flight to Tokyo, grabbing the earliest available option. As I folded my clothes and packed them neatly in my backpack, my mind was filled with countless thoughts, uncertainties, and questions.
Nobu's cold denial, the string of "accidental" deaths, the invisible threads that seemed to connect them all, and the underlying darkness I could feel - they all formed a mystery that had piqued my interest. But I was diving headfirst into unfamiliar territory, halfway across the world. Was I ready for what lay ahead?
Turning off the lights, I glanced one last time at the map on the wall. The red, yellow, and blue dots stared back at me, I almost left it on the wall. So into the bag, it went.
"You've got a story to tell me, Tokyo," I thought to myself, agitation welling up inside me. "And I'm coming to eavesdrop."