More than ten years after he lost his climbing partner on Tsuitate, Anzai had started up a hiking club at the newspaper. Yuuki didn’t get the thinking behind that decision. Perhaps it was Anzai’s fondness for the mountains that had propelled him to do it. But if, as Suetsugu had said, he hadn’t been able to get over the death of his friend, surely leading these casual hikes, to a hard-core climber such as himself, must have been like some kind of self-imposed prison sentence? Atonement, bordering on masochism. But then the addition of Yuuki to the club had shaken up Anzai’s routine. Badgered by Yuuki to go rock climbing, Anzai had ended up taking him to Mount Haruna’s ski resort. Perhaps that had led to a change in his mental state.
“Hey, Yuu. Let’s take a shot at Tsuitate!”
It had been Anzai who’d suggested it, but now that Yuuki finally knew the whole story, he couldn’t stop thinking about the storms of conflict that must have raged inside his colleague’s heart.
Yuuki turned to look at the door behind him. The core of the layout team—known as the three o’clock shift—were just arriving for work. The newsroom was getting noisy once more.
When Nozawa’s sour face made its appearance again at the desk to his left, Yuuki caught a look of relief on Kishi’s face. Apparently even Kishi was uncomfortable being alone with Yuuki now.
Nozawa didn’t bother making eye contact with Yuuki. He just dropped his shoulder bag on the floor and called across to Kishi.
“I stopped by the city office on the way to work and saw Yorita in the reporters’ room.”
“Yes, she’s been transferred early.”
“Is she going to be all right? I’ve never seen her look so terrified. She can’t even write a simple ten-line report.”
“Everyone’s like that when they start out.”
“But anyone can write something that simple on their first day.”
“Well, maybe you could.”
Stop pretending you and Chizuko are the best of friends! The sense of isolation that had swept over him dragged up these bitter thoughts.
Nozawa turned to Yuuki.
“I heard that Anzai from Circulation’s in the hospital.”
Yuuki grunted in response. Four days. That was about the usual delay in news reaching one department from another.
“Anzai? Is that true?”
Kishi was genuinely taken aback. Strong as an ox—that was Anzai’s image in the company.
“Someone from the city firefighting office passed it on to Kudo, the Maebashi branch chief. Seems he had a subarachnoid hemorrhage and was taken to the prefectural hospital.”
“A hemorrhage!”
“Yeah, seems he was running and suddenly collapsed.”
Anzai was running? Yuuki looked at Nozawa.
“Is that information reliable?”
“Someone saw him, apparently.”
“Hey, never mind that—what’s his condition?” said Kishi, addressing Yuuki as well as Nozawa.
“It’s death from overworking.”
This was what Yuuki had been thinking ever since reading Anzai’s diary. Now he’d put it into words.
Kishi’s face froze.
“What are you talking about? Don’t mess with us, Yuuki. He’s still alive, isn’t he?”
“Of course I’m joking,” said Yuuki crossly, and got up to meet Sayama, who had just entered the newsroom.
Sayama had quite an expression on his face. It was different from his usual aggressive look. The tension and shadow that had shrouded him ever since he came back from Mount Osutaka had also vanished. He had the face of a fully fledged police beat reporter.
As soon as Yuuki recognized that look, it finally registered with him—the North Kanto Times had the potential to be a contender. They were going to beat all the big names in global media to the biggest scoop.
28
Yuuki had Sayama wait for him in the break area while he gave some directions to the copy team.
When he returned, Sayama was sitting in the corner of the sofa, a paper cup of cola in his hand. It felt as if he was sending Yuuki a message that he wasn’t even ready to let his senior colleague pay for his cheap hundred-yen drink. Yuuki sat down, leaving about the space of a person between them.
“Did Hanazawa come in today?”
“He’s climbing Osutaka.”
“Again?”
“He climbs it every day. It’s become his routine. At any rate, I think he’ll get a great article out of it.”
Yuuki hadn’t known any of this.
“What’s going on with Wajima?”
“What did you want to talk to me about?”
“Is he at the press club?”
“Writing an article about the personal belongings of the deceased. Hurry up and tell me what this is about. I’m worried about leaving Moriwaki in charge.”
Yuuki nodded. He sat up a little, looked around to check that no one was listening, then leaned back in.
“It’s about Tamaki from the Maebashi branch.”
“What’s he done?”
“What’s he like as a reporter?”
Sayama didn’t reply. He took a sip from his paper cup. It was clear from the look on his face that he had no intention of selling out the reporters at the accident site to the desk chief. Or, if Yuuki took the cynical view, that Sayama had nothing particularly praiseworthy to say about Tamaki as a reporter.
“Anyway,” Yuuki continued, “he’s got hold of a story.”
“What kind of story?”
“The cause of the crash.”
Sayama’s eyebrows shot up.
“Have you heard of a thing called a pressure bulkhead?”
“It’s the dome-shaped piece at the rear of the fuselage. It maintains the pressure at a constant level inside the aircraft.”
“You’re pretty knowledgeable.”
“I’m just the same as the prefectural police. We’re all starting by learning what makes a plane able to fly.”
“Well, that bulkhead couldn’t withstand the pressure and it ruptured, blowing off the tail. At least, that’s what Tamaki tells me.”
“Where did he get this from?”
“One of the members of the crash investigation team.”
He saw Sayama’s pupils dilate.
“The problem is, he only overheard the conversation. And only the word ‘bulkhead.’ He didn’t actually hear that it had ruptured, or that it had blown the tail off. That part was all his own theory.”
Sayama thought for a moment before replying.
“Tamaki studied engineering at university, didn’t he?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t aeronautical engineering.”
Yuuki stole a glance at Sayama, who was clearly giving this some serious thought.
“It might be fake information.”
“I don’t think so.”
“All right, then. The story is true. Or at least we have to believe it is. Take a leap of faith.”
Yuuki felt relieved.
“I want you to gather the evidence. Get up to the accident site and try to talk to the investigation team.”
“You’re asking me?” Sayama looked at Yuuki for the first time. “Why don’t you get Tamaki to do it? It’s his story.”
Sayama was showing his immaturity. His voice oozed with bitterness. Yuuki sat up a little straighter.
“Do you honestly think Tamaki’s up to the job?”
Sayama was silent.
“Just think how big a story this is. I need a reliable person on it.”
Still no answer.
“Do it! You’re the NKT’s top police reporter.”
Sayama inclined his head ever so slightly. He wanted to be part of this international scoop. Any investigative reporter worth their salt would.
Yuuki clapped his hands.
“Good. Get going right away. Try to get there while it’s still light. And check out the investigation team’s lodgings.”
“Where’s Tamaki right now?”
“I’m tryi
ng to locate him. You start with the village office. I’ll let you know as soon as I find him.”
“Who should I go after?”
Sayama’s look became sharper.
“Make a proper story out of this. Go for the top—the head of the investigation team.”
“Kanae Fujinami?”
“That’s the one. It doesn’t matter how late it is. Corner him in the toilet or the bathhouse changing room and get it out of him.”
They exchanged a look. If anyone had been watching, they’d probably have thought the two men were glaring at each other.
Sayama swallowed hard.
“Got it. I’ll do it. On one condition—it stays as Tamaki’s story. I’m fine being behind the scenes on this one. I’m serious about that.”
It felt as if it had been a long time since Yuuki had heard such invigorating words.
“Of course. Ha! If Tamaki gets the Chairman’s Award, he’ll be over the moon.”
Sayama grinned, but only for a moment. He became serious again right away.
“Right. I’m off,” he said, getting to his feet.
“I’m counting on you.”
The job had brought the two of them closer again. But it was precisely because this was something beyond their usual job.
Yuuki set off back to the newsroom. He could feel his heartbeat pulsing faster than usual. He was going to publish a world scoop in the North Kanto Times. He was on a real mission, but this was only the first step.
He met Kishi at the door. There’d been a call from Tamaki. Yuuki looked down the corridor, but Sayama had already gone. He hurried back to his desk. If only the call had come in three minutes earlier they could have made all the arrangements on the spot. The receiver was still off the hook. He grabbed it.
“Yuuki here.”
“Finally got hold of you.”
Tamaki sounded in good spirits.
“I heard you’d been trying to reach me. Have there been any developments?”
“Yes. It’s definitely the bulkhead. I was about to start writing my—”
“Wait!” Yuuki cut him off. “Where are you calling from?”
“What?”
“The location of the phone.”
“It’s the public phone in the anglers’ lodge.”
“Speak as quietly as possible, okay?” Yuuki’s tone sounded threatening.
“O-okay.”
“So tell me. How do you know it’s the bulkhead?” Yuuki had his hand around the mouthpiece as he spoke.
“Well, it turns out that Harasawa from the investigation team is a good friend of my seminar professor back at university, and it seems my professor asked him what caused the accident. And apparently Harasawa told him it was most likely the bulkhead.”
It seems. Apparently. Most likely.
Hearsay was just one level above eavesdropping. He’d just accepted this story and begun writing an article?
“So you’re working on a draft?”
“A draft?”
Yuuki took a deep breath. Surely Tamaki understood why he had to get working on a draft right away? If it was late at night, and you waited until all the supporting evidence was gathered before you started your article, you’d never make the deadline. So instead you sent a draft of the article to headquarters and rushed around afterward to get the rest of the facts.
“All right, then, get the piece written ASAP. A fax’ll be fine. Make sure you give me a call before you send it.”
“Okay.”
Tamaki sounded buoyant once more. Yuuki also felt the information had gained some credibility now that there was another source involved.
“And one more thing…”
Yuuki put it into simple terms.
“Even if you’re sure of the truth of your story, it’s still hearsay right now. It needs proper researching. Do you understand?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll be sure to do that.”
“Sayama from the police beat is on his way.”
“Don’t worry, I can do it myself.”
Yuuki ignored him.
“Meet Sayama at the village office. Tell him every single piece of information you have.”
The telephone receiver picked up what sounded like a small shriek.
“Why? I can do this!” Tamaki said, sounding reproachful. “Sayama-san doesn’t know the first thing about airplanes. Even if he manages to talk to an investigator, he won’t be able to follow any of the technical explanations.”
So he’d been planning to discuss the cause of the crash directly with someone from the accident investigation team. It was difficult to explain to Tamaki, who had no experience of being on the night watch. Things could be resolved in a matter of seconds. There was one question to put to the accident investigator: Was the rupture of the pressure bulkhead the cause of the crash? But there wasn’t a government employee in the whole country who would give a straight answer to that question. What was needed was a reporter with the skill to seize exactly the right moment to coax a yes or a no out of someone. Sayama was just such a man—responsible for covering accidents all over the prefecture, he interviewed policemen 365 days a year.
“That’s Sayama’s job.”
Tamaki sounded despondent.
“… I understand. I’ll take Sayama with me.”
“No. Let him do it by himself. You’ll be my support. I want you to report every detail of Sayama’s movements.”
People don’t divulge their secrets when there’s more than one person present.
Suddenly Tamaki flared up.
“I’m really not happy about this. I was the one who overheard them talking—it was my story. And now you’re handing it over to Sayama!”
Yuuki wanted to tell him what Sayama had said earlier. Yuuki hadn’t realized how much Tamaki was willing to fight for his story. Perhaps, if Tamaki got to experience the police beat for a while, they might make a hard-hitting reporter of him yet.
“Each man to his own. Let Sayama do it.”
“But—”
“Are you listening?”
“… Yes.”
“Sayama will be there just before five. Whether this story lives or dies depends on your support. I’m counting on you.”
He had ended up having to resort to flattery in order to win Tamaki over.
Kishi and Nozawa had already started walking toward managing editor Oimura’s office. The August 17 meeting to decide the layout of the next day’s paper was just about to get under way. This might be the front page that put the North Kanto Times into the history books.
Yuuki strode after his two colleagues. God! It’s freezing in here, he thought, but just for an instant. He put it down to the fact that he was trembling with excitement, and thought no more about it.
29
The meeting had begun with idle chitchat.
Editor in chief Kasuya was in a buoyant mood. This morning’s paper, which had delicately managed to maintain the balance between Fukuda and Nakasone, had been well received by all parties.
“Even Iikura-san found the time to give me a call. The managing director had nothing but praise for the front page, even though I’m sure he’d been rubbing his hands in glee, waiting for his opportunity to attack.”
Oimura looked dubious.
“I can’t help finding it suspicious that he just happened to call at a time like that. The Clever Yakuza’s up to something for sure … Yep, he definitely has something up his sleeve,” he continued. “Kasuya-san, you really should be careful.”
“Yes, I know, I know. But the managing director always likes to give his opinion about the layout of the paper.”
“You’re naive. That guy has no interest whatsoever in the contents of the paper. The only thing he’s interested in is appearances.”
Yuuki was on edge the whole time the others were talking. At this very moment, his trouser pocket contained proof of the managing director’s faction’s toxic handiwork. Probably someone of Kasuya’s status in the company was aware
to some extent of what was going on and, as Yuuki had no allegiance to either faction, he didn’t feel obliged to reveal his hand. However, he did feel that Oimura’s cautiousness was a lot more appropriate than Kasuya’s optimism.
Kasuya turned his attention to Yuuki.
“Good job yesterday. The idea to use that photo, well, it was inspired.”
Yuuki gave a vague nod. His attention was on Todoroki, who had just entered the room. He looked exactly the same as always. Glancing at Yuuki from behind his dark lenses, he sat down next to Oimura and folded his arms. The previous night, he had drunk himself into oblivion at Sojahanten. Yuuki wondered how much of their conversation Todoroki remembered.
“So, about today’s layout…”
Finally, Kasuya had started on the work at hand. His smiling face was still turned in Yuuki’s direction.
“First of all, the JAL crash. How are we dealing with that?”
“I thought we’d lead with Nodai Niko’s second-round win at the Koshien. Emphasize the tragedy of the team member’s father.”
Immediately Oimura, sitting across from Yuuki, frowned. Surely he wasn’t going to object?
“What other crash-related stories do you have?” asked Kasuya.
Yuuki consulted his notes.
“The press conference interview with the survivors. The joint U.S.-Japan investigation. The storage of the remains. Meetings with the bereaved families. Continuation of the series on the second page. They’ve started to return possessions to the families now, so coverage of how that’s going.”
“I see.”
Yuuki made no mention of his possible scoop. It’d be madness to talk about it now. Not everyone in the Editorial Department was his ally. There’d even been a couple of cases in the past where information was leaked to a rival paper.
“I think it’s about time to take the JAL crash off the front page.”
Naturally, it was Oimura who said this. Something must have irritated him, because there was already a hint in his eyes of the Firecracker being lit.
“For now, today, let’s lead with the crash. Koshien and the bereaved families in one story. But I don’t want every page crammed with crash articles. I think, unless we have a really strong story, tomorrow we should drop it from the headlines. There are plenty of reporters covering other big stories around the prefecture.”
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