‘I . . . I don’t know.’
‘Huh, right. I’m sure we only loaned you out for times like this . . .’
Mikami understood what he was trying to imply.
You’re either with us, or you don’t come back.
‘Urushibara told me you wanted to see me. What was it you wanted to ask?’
‘No need to rush. You’ll find out soon enough.’
Mikami’s discomfort was considerable. Was Arakida trying to work out how much he’d changed in the eight months since his exile from Criminal Investigations?
‘I hear things are bad in Media Relations. You been picking fights with the reporters?’
‘Actually, the biggest problem is not knowing the source of the Toyo’s leak.’
Mikami’s attempt at a subtle counter-attack caused Arakida to narrow his eyes.
‘Are you implying it was me, Mikami?’
‘Do you intend on having a chat with Akama?’
‘Did he send you to find out?’
‘No.’
‘No, I have no intention of meeting him. Why would I want to look into the face of that damned mantis? Besides, he’s small fry as far as Tokyo’s concerned. I could pressure him, and it wouldn’t change a thing.’
The third arrow would be fired at Tokyo. That was what it had sounded like. Mikami saw an image of Maejima, already on secondment to the Criminal Investigations Bureau. Would they use him? Or someone in Prefecture D?
‘Where’s Matsuoka?’
‘Hmm? Why do you ask?’
‘He wasn’t at his desk.’
‘Politics isn’t his forte, as I’m sure you know. Solving the next case is all he thinks about. He’s out visiting the Six Four team, priming the pumps even as we speak.’
Politics.
Was that what he’d said?
‘You know Matsuoka was thinking about making you a team leader?’
Mikami cut the switch to his emotions as a reflex. Still he felt flustered to see the smug look on Arakida’s face. The man’s giant frame came slowly forward, over the table. He intertwined his fingers and began to speak in a whisper.
‘Realistically, I think we could probably stretch to director, over in central. The position’s due to open up next spring.’
Mikami felt his insides lurch.
When Arakida spoke next his voice echoed throughout the room, suddenly powerful.
‘There are two matters of business.’ He’d done away with his outer skin. Before Mikami was the avaricious face of a man entrenched in war. ‘First – where is Koda?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Maybe not. But Futawatari does.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Does Admin have Koda, yes or no?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Well, get out there and find out!’
Mikami said nothing. It had been more than a threat. Arakida was testing Mikami’s allegiance.
‘Who gave you orders to look for Koda?’
‘I ran into him by chance.’
‘What did you say to him?’
‘We exchanged greetings, that was all.’
‘What did you get from him?’
‘Like I said, we exchanged greetings.’
‘Why did you come here today?’
What . . .?
‘I am asking you why you came to see me today.’
‘Because you called me.’
‘Just that?’
‘Also, because I’m press director. If nothing changes, the trouble will spread to involve the press and—’
‘I’ll bet you came here with an expectation.’
‘An expectation of what?’
Arakida didn’t answer. The expression on his face suggested that Mikami should try asking himself.
There was no need.
‘Take my advice. Take off that ill-fitting disguise. Even if you end up clashing with Akama, I’ll make sure you make it back here.’
Mikami levelled his gaze on Arakida. He let his thoughts charge the silence.
The answer is no.
The silence held until Arakida clicked his tongue in frustration.
‘You’d be acting differently if you knew what Tokyo’s real motives were . . .’
Mikami recoiled. That would have been his final question, and he’d expected Arakida to refuse to answer.
Was he going to tell him?
‘The second matter of business.’ As though turning a page, Arakida steered the conversation back to the beginning. ‘You seem to have a talent as an instigator.’
‘An instigator?’
‘Yes. Someone whose job is to cause trouble and get the ball rolling. Some are paid professionals, tasked to incite violence during peaceful demonstrations. Ring any bells? That’s right – the clash you staged with the press in the Secretariat, after all the talk of the written protest. It’s because of your handiwork there that they decided they would boycott the commissioner’s interview.’
‘I couldn’t do anything to stop that. It certainly wasn’t my plan.’
‘Then make it your plan. Agitate some more. Get them riled up, make sure they go through with the boycott.’
I’m sorry . . .?
Mikami’s eyes sharpened.
‘I don’t see any reason to do that.’
‘Because you don’t think they’d go through with it anyway?’
‘No, because I would be remiss in my duties.’
‘I want to know how things look. Is it likely they’ll go through with it, or will they call it off?’
‘Avoiding the boycott is looking difficult. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have a hand I can play.’
‘Then don’t play it. Just stand back and watch. Surely your conscience can forgive that?’
‘That won’t do.’
‘You don’t care what happens to your home?’
‘This is all just bullets flying over my head. I don’t even know what it was that kicked this off in the first place.’
The room was silent once again. This time the quiet was longer, more oppressive. Arakida’s giant frame shifted. Then he let out a sigh, seeming to sag as he leaned back into his couch.
‘Then let me tell you,’ he said gravely. ‘Once you know Tokyo’s intentions, I hope you will reconsider your position.’
Mikami gave a cautious nod. His hands tensed over his knees.
‘This is a sequestration.’ Arakida glowered into open air. ‘The bureaucrats intend to take over the post of director in Criminal Investigations. The NPA intends to make us into a fiefdom of Tokyo.’
49
Mikami could hardly feel the ground under his feet.
He stood on the emergency stairs, having come through the steel door at the end of the corridor. He couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. The sun was long gone. The wind was strong, but it didn’t feel cold at all. Mikami’s body continued to generate heat regardless of how much was stolen away.
Sequester the director’s post.
The decision had come first, after which they’d drafted the scenario of the commissioner’s visit into Six Four. Commissioner Kozuka would march right into the headquarters. He would pay his condolences at Amamiya’s house and pledge to arrest Shoko’s kidnapper and murderer. It would be more than just paying lip service. Directly afterwards he would use the walking interview to reveal the strategy with which he intended to back up his words. His intention was to post one of Tokyo’s best career officers as director of Criminal Investigations, thereby strengthening links with Tokyo and helping the Prefectural HQ achieve its full potential as it continued its investigation into the Six Four kidnapping.
It was just a front. The case was frozen solid; it wouldn’t budge an inch, even if they did send in someone from Tokyo. It would end with the new director issuing orders for the sake of making his presence known; he would throw the investigation into disarray, squandering both time and resources as he demanded report after report. Tokyo, perfectly aware that they had no chance of solving th
e case, had decided to use Six Four as a smokescreen to hide their hostile takeover of the director’s job. Just you wait and see. It didn’t matter if they solved Six Four or if the statute of limitations kicked in – whatever happened, the bureaucrats would hold on to the director’s chair after it was all over.
Mikami gazed upwards. The pitch-black, starless sky drank up the wind.
Come Thursday, it’ll be gone.
They had no doubt set their sights on Prefecture D. The current system of local directors had resulted in a run of poor candidates, and the situation seemed as if it was going to continue for years to come. Six Four had been fourteen years ago. Out of all the cases of kidnapping and murder that had happened since, it was the only one in which the perpetrator was still at large.
Mikami could ask what it was that had prevented Tokyo from extending its feelers until now. They hadn’t hesitated to set aside a position for themselves in Second Division, under Arakida’s direct authority. With the sole justification of zero tolerance when it came to discrepancies in the unmasking of corruption and election violations, they had dispatched young career officers to head up divisions across the country. They could have taken over the director’s position long ago, used their state-invested powers to assume a ‘bigger is better’ approach, without resorting to such roundabout means. Yet they hadn’t.
Why disrupt that balance now?
They would have expected local resistance. Criminal Investigations was certainly putting up a vicious fight. Tokyo may have set its sights on the debacle that was Six Four, but what was the good in seizing the position if it meant unilaterally destroying the tacit understanding that had benefited them so much until now?
It had to be something else. He could try to apply logic, but nothing he came up with would be correct.
It was hegemony. Seizing power was an instinct of the central command. Most likely some large cog had ground into motion somewhere in Tokyo. They would pick away at the autonomy of the regional police. Pull down the curtain, see through to their ambition of a centralized police authority. Was their announcement going to be the opening gambit? A trial run? Whatever the case, it would send shivers down the spines of any medium to small regional headquarters with its own Criminal Investigations Director. Just one failed case could result in them losing the post. The precedent would give rise to a fear that would spread and multiply until it fostered a terror of the NPA.
Was that their real aim? Punishment as example. Putting Arakida’s decapitated head on display to drive home the real power of the central authority.
A wind picked up, hitting Mikami from the side.
The NPA intends to make us into a fiefdom of Tokyo.
Mikami squeezed his hands until they hurt. He could feel the blood coursing through his body. The blood of a detective. It was the only way he could parse the intensity of emotion, making his entire body feel like a clenched fist.
50
The lamp indicated that Captain Tsujiuchi was still in his office.
Mikami strode across the Secretariat, heading directly for Chief Ishii’s desk. His hands were still balled tight. The temperature in the room should be comfortable, but it felt like a sauna, the heat almost suffocating.
Ishii was sitting with his chair swivelled to one side, fiddling with a remote control. He seemed restless. The evening news was about to start, showing the footage from Akama’s earlier press conference.
‘Oh, Mikami . . . what is it?’
‘I want to talk to the captain. There’s an urgent matter I need to discuss,’ Mikami said.
Ishii’s eyes stretched into circles. ‘What could be so urgent?’
‘I’d prefer to speak to him personally.’
‘Ridiculous. Well, come on? Have you raised it with Akama?’
‘He’s not here.’
Mikami had already stopped by Administration. I expect he doesn’t want to see the news. Shirota had said this, also fiddling with a remote in his hands as he did so.
‘Okay, well, just tell me what it is you want to say. If it’s important, I will relay it to the captain.’
The conversation had already exhausted Mikami’s patience. He bowed sharply to Ishii, then started for the captain’s office at the back of the room.
‘Hey . . . what are . . . stop!’
Ishii’s voice became a screech. Mikami ignored him and kept walking. He knocked on the distinctive wood-textured door.
‘Come in.’
Mikami could only just make out the subdued response.
‘Mikami!’
Ishii had jumped out from behind his desk, shrieking now.
‘Mikami, stop right there!’
Mikami felt something grab his arm. He brushed it away and pushed the man’s feeble chest. Ishii stumbled backwards a couple of steps before careering on to his backside. His eyes were full of shock as they peered up. Mikami looked away and pushed open the door.
‘Thank you, sir.’
Everyone in the office got to their feet, but too late. Mikami was already making his way into the captain’s office. He closed the door behind him. The heavy sound served to cut off the outside.
Even the air in the room felt alien. Subtle, indirect lighting. Space enough to hold a cocktail party. Leather couches with a dozen or so armchairs. Thick carpet, woven with an intricate pattern. Tokyo’s place in the Prefectural HQ. The NPA. That was why Mikami was there.
Kinji Tsujiuchi was sitting at his desk.
His eyes came up to scan Mikami, unpleasant as they traced a line from his head to his feet. Mikami had been here two times in the past, but he’d never exchanged more than simple greetings with the captain.
‘Mikami, wasn’t it? Press director.’
His voice was soft, showing no signs of reproach for Mikami’s disrespect in pushing his way through Ishii.
‘That’s right,’ Mikami said, just as he heard a knocking from behind.
The door opened, shunting him forwards into the room. Ishii’s face was as bright red as a monkey’s.
‘Sir, please forgive the intrusion. I’ll get him to leave right this—’
Mikami talked over him. ‘I have something urgent to discuss. Would it be possible for us to talk in private?’
‘Mikami, you . . .’ Ishii said, his voice low, simmering with indignation.
Tsujiuchi glanced at them both in turn, his open curiosity showing through. ‘Ishii, you can leave us alone.’
‘But, sir . . .’
‘It’s fine. It’s refreshing to hear from people in the field, every now and again.’
‘But, sir, you’re already due at the—’
‘I shouldn’t like to repeat myself, Ishii.’ Tsujiuchi gave Ishii a reproachful look, causing the man to recoil as though he’d been physically whipped.
‘Of course, forgive me. I can give you both five minutes. I’ll call in when the time is up.’
‘I’ll ring the buzzer for you when we’re finished.’
There was nothing else Ishii could say. He gave an almost comically deep bow and stepped out of the room, his eyes pleading with Mikami.
‘Come over, take a seat.’
‘Thank you.’
Mikami was able to move smoothly across the floor. The blood coursing through him made it easy. He sat upright on the couch. Tsujiuchi was right in front of him. A wide forehead giving the impression of a keen intellect. Thick brows. Cool, elongated eyes.
‘What did you want to talk about?’
‘I have something I want to ask.’
‘A question, rather than a discussion?’ The curiosity visibly drained from his eyes. He had possibly been looking forward to listening to the bellyaching of a field officer. ‘Fair enough. Out with it, then. I’ll answer if I can.’
Mikami tipped his head in thanks. He focused his eyes around the bridge of Tsujiuchi’s nose. He couldn’t be sure that Arakida had been truthful. With Akama gone from the building, he had no choice but to ask the captain himself.
‘I
t concerns the orders you gave Futawatari.’
‘Futawatari? I don’t remember seeing him recently . . . did he say I asked him to do something?’
Was he pretending not to know?
‘The commissioner general is due to visit us, on Thursday.’
‘Indeed.’
‘He is planning to install an officer from Tokyo as the new director of Criminal Investigations. I’ve heard this is what he plans to announce.’
‘Quite right.’
Mikami felt a stabbing in his chest. The captain had vaulted clean over the hurdle.
‘What of it?’
‘I wanted to know the reason for the decision.’
‘The reason? Why, the kidnapping, of course. It’s a public appeal, a gesture to show we don’t intend to give up.’
‘So it will be a temporary measure?’
‘I don’t see what you’re getting at . . .’
‘If the case is solved, for example. Am I correct in understanding that the position will be returned to us?’
‘I don’t know, although I’d wager that’s yet to be decided. You’d do better to ask the commissioner, when he gets here.’
‘So it’s possible the change could be permanent?’
‘As I said, I don’t know. I believe some district stations alternate between the two. Mostly, it seems to be case by case.’
‘Meaning it rests on the availability of the right people.’
‘Quite. Personnel is key. Our Criminal Investigations department has suffered quite a bit, in that respect.’
Mikami was becoming increasingly crestfallen. What had been a dotted line was quickly filling in, becoming fact. He’d finished testing the truth of Arakida’s words.
The NPA intends to make us into a fiefdom of Tokyo.
Mikami slid forwards on the couch.
‘Criminal Investigations is vehemently against this happening.’
‘So it seems,’ Tsujiuchi replied equably.
‘Some people have begun a call to arms.’
‘Which is exactly why Akama has left for Tokyo. We’ve just had word that someone is posting a dangerous memo around head office.’
Mikami was dumbfounded.
‘It details a number of cases of misconduct in Prefecture D, none of which has been made public. It’s a veritable letter bomb. I’m sure whoever it is intends to warn off the commissioner.’
Six Four Page 36