by Nick Tanner
She had still been able to serve one more purpose, though – gratuitous sexual gratification.
The meeting that had then taken place with Watanabe Hiro had gone entirely as expected.
Watanabe had entered the meeting room some five minutes later to find Kenji Ozawa and Eri Yamada already seated on the large comfy chairs and pulled his best, broadest politician's smile, ‘And what can I do for you?’ he’d said looking at Ozawa. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t long. I have another meeting in half an hour.’
‘We won’t be long I can assure you but I think it’s more of a case of what I can do for you.’ Ozawa had bowed once more.
‘Really?’
‘I’ve been listening to what you’ve had to say on the subject of electoral reform and feel that this is a campaign I’m willing to support.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Watanabe had beamed all over his face. ‘It’s pleasing to know that the message is getting out there.’
‘I’ve noticed that it’s been a consistent mantra of yours but as long as the other factions within the ruling party remain in power it’s a difficult situation to change, is it not? I understand that the other factions within the LDP continue to block this move to a more democratic and fairer system.’
‘You’re quite right. It is often quite difficult to negotiate with the more established players.’
‘Quite so. And so I’m happy for my company to make a political donation to your faction in order to fully support you and your position. We can arrange for a regular donation every month. We can talk specific amounts of money later on.’
‘Naturally. So tell me,’ Watanabe had said. 'How’s business – logistics, isn’t it?’
‘That’s right, logistics. It’s a very competitive market. Very competitive indeed and as long as the established companies retain their position of market power it’s a very difficult situation to change. Naturally the other companies have no interest in a more open and fair market. But we are doing fine. We have a small but clearly defined market share. We’re looking to grow of course, but all the same it would be advantageous to have a fairer system.’
‘A fairer system - of course.’
Ozawa had been happy at the way the short conversation had gone. It had been entirely the similarity in their position on which he’d been banking that Watanabe would come to his support. Not that he was ever going to state it so directly.
‘Where would you say you distribute the most? Is it within Kanagawa mainly, or further afield?’
‘Mainly Kanagawa, but Niigata, too. That’s where our main base of operations is. The Yokohama hub is a relatively new set up. But as you know it takes time to grow and for events to go for you.’
‘Of course. Logistics is very hard business. And you’re hoping to expand, you say?’
‘We’re looking to expand all the time – but of course there are the regulations to adhere to.’
‘Of course. But the regulations are very important, aren’t they? They do serve a purpose. It would be quite wrong to disregard them.’
‘Quite wrong, indeed.’
‘I’m interested to learn more about logistics after all it’s the unsung bedrock of the economy. They say an army marches on its stomach. The same is true of multi-national business, is it not? I can see that the more efficient the process, the better it is for all. It doesn’t do to have so many routes and terminals restricted to just a few companies, does it?’
‘Very much my kind of thinking,’ Ozawa had smiled, fully confident that he and Watanabe were now on the same wave-length.
During the entirety of this conversation it had appeared that the other individual at the table had been entirely superfluous. Neither had she said anything, nor was likely to say anything. It had been a surprise therefore when Hiro Watanabe had addressed her directly.
‘And you Yamada san? What is your opinion of all this?’
‘I… er… I don’t really have an opinion.’
‘Oh really! And so why are you here?’
‘She’s here for entertainment,’ Ozawa had said quite matter-of-factly.
‘How very pleasant!’
Eri Yamada had looked imploringly into Kenji Ozawa’s eyes, but she saw only the naked ambition of a man who had wanted to honey-coat a deal.
43 - In which Inspector Saito jumps into the abyss
Tuesday 4th January 1:25pm
Sergeant Mori placed the phone down with a trace of anger quite clearly on his lips. 'Bakayarou - he's lied to us again!'
'Who has?'
'Ozawa - that's who. He was nowhere near the Ginza Bellevue Hotel. That was them on the phone just now. No-one of the name Tanaka had a reservation on the 30th, neither an Ozawa nor a Yamada, in fact no-one checked into a room that evening only to vacate it an hour later. No-one matching his description nor Yamada Eri's was seen at the time, either, according to the receptionist, that is. His whole story is fabrication from start to finish.'
'But none-the-less he was safely tucked at home when the murder took place which means that he's still at pains to protect someone. We just need to find out who. That is the question. What we need is a map of the area,’ said Inspector Saito.
‘Here, try this,’ offered Mori. He passed over his new phone which he was sure had a map facility somewhere stored within it. Junsa Saito took it from him and with a few expert flicks of her finger located the required app.
All three of them peered at the little screen. Junsa Saito enlarged the map so that more detail was revealed of the Ginza area.
‘So what do we think?’ The Inspector looked up at the other two. ‘I suspect that Ozawa walked up here, under the Tokyo Express way and down Sotobori Dori. I’m guessing he didn’t go down to Ginza at all but stayed on this street, somewhere near the hotel, but where exactly, where?’ He tapped his chin with the palm of his hand as he scanned the miniature map. ‘And why does he keep lying? Who exactly is he trying to protect?’
‘Surely he’s trying to protect himself, isn’t he?’
‘That’s one way of looking at it but from what we now appear to know he had nothing to do with her murder. He has too many alibis. He must be covering for someone – and someone quite important. He scanned the map of Ginza once again until his eyes came to rest upon one particular building – quite clearly labelled, quite clearly identified and quite clearly important.
*
‘Hiro Watanabe? I thought you said you were going after Ozawa, the Niigata Kyubin man?’
‘That was before,’ explained Inspector Saito to a, yet-again, confused looking Chief Super.
‘You’ve listed more suspects in the last twenty four hours than I’ve ever known Saito. Are you really sure you know what you are doing?’
‘Quite sure, sir. Thank you very much.’
‘Well I hope you do know what you are doing,’ The Chief Super said brusquely. ‘Going after a man like Watanabe could be costly indeed, particularly if you’ve got it all wrong.’ The Chief Super swung round in his chair placing his back to Inspector Saito as if terminating the conversation. Inspector Saito remained, somewhat impotently, facing the back of the chair. All he could see was the top of the Chief Super’s bald head. He wondered how long he would have to stand like this.
As for the Chief Super he didn’t know what to think anymore. On the one hand Saito was playing his hand exactly the way he thought he would – haphazardly jumping from one fantastical idea to another. This latest stab in the dark seemed as crazy as the last. It was precisely what he wanted him to do and stabbing and missing Watanabe could eventually finish him off. On the other hand however, it was a foolish game for all concerned to fling mud in the face of a politician. The media would have a field day and if they were proved to be wrong that mud would come swiftly back in his direction. It wasn’t a prospect he looked forward to.
One other point also niggled away at him and that was that he had been none too pleased at Sakamoto’s vacant explanations of the day before and he had begun to
doubt the solidity of Sakamoto’s own theories. It would be equally damning for the department to be left with no suspects at all if their assertions so far were proved to be completely groundless. This eventually didn’t sit too kindly with him, either.
‘Outline what your thinking is, will you, before I allow you to leap into the abyss?’
Inspector Saito cleared his throat. ‘Yamada Eri meets Ozawa in Shinbashi and they walk a few blocks down to Watanabe’s faction head-quarters. They meet at six-thirty, probably trying to get Watanabe to smooth the path for his business, something like that anyway. At some point and I’m not sure how, either Watanabe alone or the two men together raped Yamada Eri. I’m sure in good time forensics will allow us to confirm precisely who, but until now all we can be certain of is that one of the two raped her.’
‘Or simply just made love to her. Can you prove rape?’
‘It’s difficult to conclusively prove rape as you know but there were two sets of bruising upon Yamada Eri’s neck. One made from the ligature and one made by hand. It suggests two attacks.’
‘Yes, Sakamoto mentioned that.’
‘What?’
‘About the bruising. But he surmised they were made by the same man during one attack – continue.’
‘Anyway, Yamada Eri leaves the building and takes the train back to Kamioka where she is murdered.’
‘We still don’t know by who, though, do we?’ said a dejected Chief Super.
‘My money is now on Watanabe. It has to be, doesn’t it? We can count out Ozawa. It seems he has a whole number of alibis despite his constant lying.’
‘But why? It’s motive again, isn’t it?’
‘Surely we have the same motive as we had for Ozawa. Watanabe’s just raped a woman and can’t afford to have her talking. He’s a front line politician.’
The Chief Super swung his chair around yet again and stared out of the window. He remained like this for a couple of minutes. It was unusual for him to be so circumspect.
‘I don’t know, Saito. I don’t know at all!’
Once again all Saito could see was the top of the Chief Super’s head.
‘Look Saito, you may as well know that the Department is facing a tricky future. Yesterday you accused me of wanting everything neat and tidy on account of me chasing a promotion. You were half right, but as is your tendency you were also half wrong.’
Saito chose to ignore the implied insult.
‘There have been lots of discussions taking place at regional head-quarters while you’ve been away and the main thrust of these discussions is how to rationalise the service.’
‘Cut backs?’
‘They don’t put it like that, but yes, cut backs is how I see it. Of course they wrap it up in other language and talk about the need for a responsive service, a modern service, a nimble and flexible service…’
‘Nimble and flexible?’ Saito had the unpleasant vision of the Chief Super in a ballerina’s tutu.
‘But cut backs are the underlying theme, I fear. Now all this matters, as if we are to survive we need to prove that we are the best department around and… yes, if a new and bigger, merged department is created then I want to be the head of it, naturally.’
‘Naturally.’
‘Which brings us back to Watanabe. If you go chasing in there and make a mess of it, we’d have Tokyo down on us again and believe me, to have them snooping around not one month after they just left would be disastrous for you, disastrous for the department and yes, disastrous for me.’
‘I see, sir,’ said a contrite Inspector Saito. He had never heard the Chief Super talk so openly and never, ever heard talk of cut backs. The pumping of government money into public projects, in order to stimulate the economy, had been a long and almost entirely expected policy.
But if anything, the risk at getting it wrong acted as a spur to Saito’s desire to pursue his present line of enquiry.
‘It would be immoral to dodge a line of enquiry purely if we were overly worried at who we might upset or over concern for the consequences. I understand what you’re saying but it would be utterly wrong to play it safe just because we were worried for our own jobs, wouldn’t it?’
‘You don’t need to lecture me!’ replied a wound-up Chief Super. ‘But perhaps on this one you are right. We can’t ignore your lines of enquiry. Watanabe may be entirely innocent but until we can prove it a doubt will remain and that is equally as damning to us. Okay, proceed, but-’
Inspector Saito had already made to leave the room.
‘But proceed with extreme caution,’ finished the Chief Super.
*
Five minutes later Inspector Saito and Sergeant Mori were on their way up to Shinbashi and the offices of Hiro Watanabe and the Watanabe faction. They left Junsa Saito behind to organise the necessary paperwork and to get all their notes in order to ensure that, if asked, they had all the relevant interviews correctly recorded, filed and available. Surprisingly she was quite happy to be left with such a tedious task.
One hour later they approached the Watanabe building. The roads were gradually returning to something approaching normality although, as ever, Saito complained about the cold that held out for so long before it was eventually overwhelmed by the car’s heater. As they sat, Mori driving, Saito the passenger, both men had been rehearsing in their minds what they wanted to say and in turn what they wanted to hear.
‘Just to check, sir, are we going to make any direct accusations or just establish whether or not Yamada Eri was here that evening?’
‘Both!’ replied a grim Inspector Saito getting out of the car. ‘He too, had been wondering what direction he would take if met by stonewalled denial but he chose to ignore these negative thoughts and strode into the building with an air of self-assurance.
Mori wasn’t sure and it was with less confidence that he followed his superior. Once inside the building his nostrils were attacked by a curious mix of polish and perhaps, by contrast, the dust of tradition. He’d never been in a building belonging to one of the many political factions and didn’t know whether to be disgusted by the lavish interior or impressed. But what he was certain of was that his surroundings were creating a sense of unease deep within him. There was something about hardwood, panelled walls adorned with severe-looking portraits that always had this impact on him. In his time he’d met many men, and many women, men and woman from all levels of society, many keen to assert their authority, many keen to obstruct but equally as many happy to assist and play down whatever rank they possessed. He had though, never had to brush shoulders with those men who were the power brokers of the country. Industrialists, yes – he had met plenty of those, but senior politicians, and one as famous as Hiro Watanabe - he had never had the opportunity, or the pleasure to meet before. He didn’t want to admit it but inside he was experiencing a growing nervousness and he glanced to his side, pleased to note that Saito was looking strong and resolute and not for the first time in his life was happy to fall into the shadow of his senior officer.
Saito approached the main reception desk. ‘Hello,’ he grunted at Miyazaki san the receptionist who smiled coyly back before bowing. ‘Is Watanabe san in?’
‘Is he expecting you? Do you have an appointment?’
‘No we… er… don’t.’
‘I’m afraid he’s out – at a meeting in the Diet building,’ she said referring to a desk diary.
Saito feared as much. He’d opted for the discreet approach of an unannounced entrance believing that a pre-arranged meeting would give Watanabe ample time to organise a defence. He preferred to see the surprised whites of the eye when he suggested guilt to a possible suspect. He’d also wanted to avoid any unnecessary procrastination surrounding procedure and paper-work, formal channels and so forth. The danger of the unannounced strategy however, was all too obvious.
‘Well is his Chief of Staff about, then. Can we talk to him?’
She hesitated for a second. ‘I… er…’
‘Is anything the matter?’
‘It’s just that he was let go on Friday. I’m not sure who his replacement is, yet.’
‘Let go - why would that be?’
The look she gave the Inspector Saito was one that suggested that while she wasn’t above a little bit of innocent chit-chat there were some topics that were beyond her remit. ‘Look, I don’t know who you are or what you want so if-’
‘Detectives!’ said Inspector Saito showing his identification. Mori followed suit. With Watanabe not immediately to hand it was the last thing Inspector Saito had wanted to do. He’d wanted to get what he needed without having to reveal that he was police or to raise the alarm that he was on the scent. There’d been no other option, however. It was quite clear the receptionist wasn’t going to open up without some authority instructing her to do so. Despite their identification she still hesitated and looked around for help that wasn’t there.
