At the same time.
L crouched on his swivel chair, stacked two sugar cubes together, popped them into his mouth, and crunched them to pieces.
Watari stood beside him, watching the crude oil futures index flicker across the screen.
The red rising curve stabbed straight toward the top of the screen like a knife.
"L, Wall Street has made its move."
Watari reported, "The Federal Military Department has activated the Silent Protocol."
All external communications for personnel with access to classified information have been cut off, and mainstream media broadcasts have been forced onto a three-minute delay."
L rubbed his bare toes together.
"Capital has built a firewall."
L chewed his sugar cubes and said indistinctly,
"They know Kira likes making his targets reveal secrets before they die, so they've cut off the channels in advance.
Without a global live broadcast, Kira's deterrent power is greatly diminished."
L stared at the satellite thermal image of the Core Gulf on the screen.
Red dots clustered densely across it: the warships and speedboats facing off on both sides.
"Kira has been backed into a corner."
L reached for another sugar cube.
"If he kills the tycoons, it won't bring about a ceasefire.
If he kills the politicians, he'll only escalate the conflict.
The 'absolute justice' he's so proud of,
is like a punch into cotton against the vast machinery of capital."
"Then what will he choose?" Watari asked.
L said nothing. In truth, he was waiting.
Waiting for Kira to make a mistake.
If Kira forced a disclosure through the firewall, he would expose more traces of his cyberattacks.
As long as there were traces, L could follow the trail.
The Core Gulf.
2:40 a.m., local time.
The combat command center aboard the main fleet's flagship, the nuclear-powered aircraft carrier Behemoth.