by Nick Tanner
‘Really? And there was us thinking that this looked very much like a pay-off.’
‘A pay-off? What on earth are you talking about? Is that what you think this is?’ laughed Watanabe, unconvincingly. ‘Can’t a man sit in a coffee house now-a-days.’
‘It’s not the man, but the attaché case,’ replied Mitsui coldly. He slid yet another photograph across the table – this time with Junko Iida sitting in front of a plate of delicious looking pancakes. ‘Too much of a co-incidence, we think? This looks entirely like a man trying to shift a scandal onto an innocent colleague, a colleague who has been wrongly accused and wrongly sacked as a consequence. And the reason for all this is you!’ Mitsui slammed his hand down on the table as he simultaneously stood up.
‘How dare you make such an accusation,’ demanded Watanabe also rising to his feet. The two men stood eyeball to eyeball. ‘You’d be nowhere without me. There would be no Watanabe faction without me. How dare you accuse me?’ he repeated again, stabbing his finger into Mitsui’s chest.
‘There’s something else,’ said Mitsui frostily.
‘There is something else,’ concurred the others in unison.
For the first time in his life Watanabe felt genuinely trapped. He frantically looked around the group. Any composure that he may have possessed had long since drained away. He backed away and swept his hands through his hair. It looked, at last, as if they’d eventually found out.
He opted for bare-faced denial – it was his only hope and anyway it was something he was well practiced in. He looked around the group who, to a man, had their eyes fixed on him awaiting an explanation. Presently he had none and so in a bid to gain some time he walked across to the window. Eleven pairs of eyes walked with him.
He looked down into the street where dutiful caretakers were still clearing snow away from the front of their respective office buildings, ubiquitous salary men were hurrying down the street and the occasional shopper was still daring to fulfil their needs despite the cold and the ice. He shuddered. It was a dismal scene – one that reflected his own emotions.
How on earth had he allowed events to out-flank him in such a way? He scratched his nose and ran his hands through his hair and then poured himself a glass of water from the jug on the side table. He then returned to his seat. Despite the slowness of his actions his mind was thinking fast. Eleven pairs of eyes returned with him. A simple strategy had sprung to mind. It was now time to enact it.
He pulled what he hoped was a confidence giving smile, but for whose benefit he wasn’t sure.
‘Friends, friends,’ he said. ‘What we have here is nothing more than an unfortunate misunderstanding. I’m sure you can see that.’ He held his arms out wide as if trying to embrace the entire group.
Mitsui and the others remained resolutely impassive and eleven pairs of eyes looked from his finger tips to his face.
‘You have photographs of me sitting in a coffee house and I admit-‘
Eleven pairs of eyes opened wider.
‘I admit that it doesn’t look particularly innocent – but that’s not what it was. There is an innocent explanation to all this. I went to the coffee house, yes. I needed to be alone and I needed to think. I’d only just been accused of that ridiculous affair, the Ryozo had walked out on us and I’d parted ways with Kinjo. I needed to clear my head. I needed a place, a quiet place, to think and to come up with a new strategy and a way out of this mess. Now, I know having said that, that you will automatically assume that my solution was this… this…er… pay-off. Nothing could be further from the truth. I have to say that my attempt at clearing my mind didn’t work. My head was too full of depressing thoughts and conflicting views so that when I finally got up to leave I completely forgot that I’d taken my attaché case. That was my only error here - a simple slip, by a mind that had become overloaded. Thankfully, I might add, there was nothing important in there - nothing more than a few papers concerning recent opinion polls, nothing sensitive or important. No! I’m afraid to say gentlemen that all your attempts at deriving subterfuge and misdeeds are nothing more than mistaken guesswork. Yes, I went to the coffee house, yes, I left my attaché case there, and yes, it seems the woman was there but that is the end of it. It is a complete and utter co-incidence that this woman,’ he slapped the photograph aggressively, ‘that this woman was there.’ He sat back in his seat as if finished and eyeballed each and every man surrounding him.
Only silence responded.
‘Also, might I ask how you got hold of these photos. I suspect a set-up - and not by me, but aimed at me.’
Mitsui hesitated for a moment before answering. ‘Kinjo! It was Kinjo who gave us the photographs,’ he said.
‘Well! There you are then! You’ve been fooled yourselves, by a man wanting revenge and by a man expert at arranging this sort of thing. This is nothing more than a set-up by a bitter and embattled man. And another point - do you really think I would be so stupid to meet up with the same woman who I’d just been accused of having an affair with. Do you think I am so mad? I wouldn’t be seen dead with her. This has all the classic hallmarks of Kinjo’s work. I think you’ll find that he persuaded the woman to follow me yesterday if you can be bothered to find out, that is!'
Mitsui had listened to Watanabe’s explanation with barely concealed disgust. It was a totally pathetic response from a totally discredited leader whose misdeeds were clear for all to see.
He’d been studying Watanabe carefully, as had his ten colleagues, but equally he had monitored the mood around the table. He knew, too well, that many of them were not so resolute in their condemnation of Watanabe. Many of them, he knew, remained loyal. Many of them could be easily turned. Some, he felt, had already begun to ease off. He could sense it. They hadn’t said anything of course, but he could see within their blinking eyes and their passive postures the look of men who were ready to comply, who were ready to fall in line with their natural leader.
Watanabe looked back at Mitsui. As he’d spoken he’d grown more in confidence and he too, like Mitsui, could see the mood around the table ever so slightly waver. The looks were less piercing and more accommodating, the bodies leaning back in compliance rather than leaning forward in confrontation. He wasn’t completely out of the woods and quite frankly he was amazed that they’d bought his concocted story so readily. Even he could see that there were a million reasons why his version of events was as flimsy as a trampoline made of cling-film. However, the purpose of his story telling was to create indecision and nothing more. He knew that timing was important here. It was vital, like a boxer throwing a combination, to lay your second strike with precision. It was time for the coup-de-grace, time for increased bluff and gamble. He drew himself up, taking in a good lungful of air and considered his reply.
‘And that other matter,’ he scoffed. ‘That too is all fabrication, and you!’ he said abruptly pointing his finger and raising his voice sharply catching everyone by surprise. ‘You are at the centre of all this, aren’t you?’
‘What do you mean? Me?’ replied a taken-aback Mitsui.
‘I know what you have been up to over the years and you have the nerve to turn the Faction against me!’
Ten pairs of eyes now turned their focus onto Mitsui.
‘What do you mean me?’ repeated Mitsui. He’d been caught completely off-balance.
‘You think I don’t know. Do you think I am so stupid to allow you and Kinjo to concoct your devious little traps without taking precautions? Do you think I don’t know what you’ve been doing? I’ve had Ito san follow up on a few of my own suspicions about you and your activities and when she returns to work after her illness I think we’ll find that she’s gathered together quite a damning little dossier, at least so her last report to me suggested as such. You think you have photographs – well wait and see what I have in my possession.’
‘I don’t know what you are talking about,’ blurted Mitsui, wondering how it was that he had been so comprehensively out-man
oeuvred.
‘Not so pleasant when the accusations are on the other foot, is it? I think gentlemen,’ Watanabe said, turning to the rest of the group. ‘I think that you will find that the viper in the nest is not me, and I think you’ll find that Ito san has all the information you need to convince you that I am entirely innocent of any claims of wrongdoing that have been levelled at me.’
Watanabe was enjoying himself now and considered it a flash of absolute genius to use the absence of Ito san at the meeting to cast doubt on the whole proceedings. Her absence meant that any accusations he was making against Mitsui could neither be proved nor disproved. It was perfect.
Ten pairs of eyes were now firmly fixed on Mitsui.
‘But this is ridiculous, don’t you see?’ said a defeated-looking Mitsui. ‘He’s making a fool of you. He’s making a fool of all of us.’
‘I think it’s you who is the fool,’ announced a now utterly triumphant Watanabe.
‘This is preposterous. What about all the evidence we have against him?’ Mitsui looked around the group wildly. ‘You don’t believe him, do you?’
‘I rather think it is you they don’t believe. I also think that you should leave until such time as I’ve decided what to do about you.’
‘I-’
‘Leave us now,’ shouted Watanabe, more threatening now.
‘I-’
Mitsui stood up and looked around the group once more. Ten pairs of eyes looked down.
‘I-’
‘Close the door behind you,’ said Watanabe as Mitsui silently walked towards the exit. ‘Now gentlemen,’ he turned to the remaining group, smiling widely. ‘The Ryozo, let’s see if we can work together to close out that deal.’
As soon as Mitsui had closed the door he stood up abruptly. ‘Let this be a warning to you all. If any of you think of going behind my back again you will be out of the Party, out of the Faction and removed from your cosy little positions before you have time to say Kanumaru Shin. Now,’ he softened his voice. ‘If you’ll excuse me gentlemen I need to freshen up before we get down to business. Give me twenty minutes please – maybe get some lunch yourselves.’
He took the other door back into his private office and walked swiftly into the bathroom where he promptly threw up. He then washed his face thoroughly and stared at his face in the mirror. Drops of water still dribbled from his hair and fell like tears down his face - to add to the impression his eyes were quite red. He then dried himself off, combed his hair back into its usual style, changed his shirt and then sat down behind his desk. His heart was still palpitating. He poured a glass of whiskey, noting that his hand was visibly shaking.
The electric shock of the whiskey filtered slowly around his body so that after a few minutes he had regained some of his composure. He leaned forward in his seat and pressed the intercom.
‘Miyazaki san?’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘Would you come through, please?’
A few moments later Yoko Miyazaki timidly entered the room.
‘Lock the door behind you, would you?’
She closed the door behind her and took a step forward.
‘No! Lock the door,’ Watanabe said firmly – his voice edged with steel. ‘Now sit down over here.’ He invited her to a suite of comfy chairs. She walked timidly over to them, wrapping her skirt tightly around her legs as she sat down.
‘You enjoy working here?’
‘I do.’ She bowed deeply.
‘And you consider the fortunes of the faction to be uppermost?’
‘I do.’
‘And you remain loyal to the fortunes of the faction?’
‘I am.’
Watanabe stood up and took up a position behind her. She didn’t know where to look – at the now vacated space in front or behind her. She chose to look down instead. She heard Watanabe’s cold voice slide down her back. ‘Then tell me why you allowed the police to have free access to our records?’
‘F-free access.’
‘They questioned you, they examined the day book. They viewed the security tapes.’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s very regrettable and very foolish of you indeed.’
‘Gomenasai.’
‘It’s not good enough.’
‘Gomenasai.’
‘You want to keep your job?’
‘Yes.’
He leant forward and from behind placed his left hand upon her left breast and squeezed it gently.
‘You’d do anything to make up for your error, wouldn’t you?’
‘Y-yes,’ she said as a solitary tear rolled down her cheek.
Watanabe pushed her sideways so that she lay prone on the sofa. She looked up frightened and confused but before she had time to think, he was on top of her pushing his tongue into her mouth. Not soon after his hands were all over her pulling at her blouse and fumbling at her bra clip. She considered struggling, she wanted to struggle and yet she found she allowed him to push on – to push in. He held her down with one firm hand around her throat.
Five minutes later Watanabe sat back in his seat totally exhausted but at the same time totally exhilarated. He poured himself yet another whiskey and noted that this time his hand was no longer shaking. He was imbued was a sense of reasserted authority. He had gained authority over his hand, authority over Miyazaki, authority over Mitsui and authority over the faction. He also knew that recent events represented just one victory in the war that was still bound to follow. Mitsui had retreated but he was sure to regroup and he was sure to come again. He was not a man to take such a beating lightly. Watanabe had gained some time but when the accusations flew some of them had a nasty habit of finding their mark – and accusations of pay-off and embezzlement would take more than a simple out-flanking movement to disregard.
45 - In which Junsa Saito is invited to a discovery
Wednesday 5th January 3:30pm
For Junsa Saito the last hour's work was one that she would have described as being 'pleasingly productive' being immensely satisfied, as she was, at the return gained from the minutes invested. Any other person glancing in through the office door would have witnessed a woman shrouded in steady concentration and executing purposeful movements - stapling papers, creating piles, sorting folders; steely dark brown eyes focussed solely on the work at hand and the occasional hand sweeping through her short dark hair. They wouldn't have been able to adequately asses the value added by the work she had put in. The office in which she sat still looked as muddled and as piled high with documents as it had been an hour before but to the initiated, and Junsa Saito was now one those, there was a theme of organisation behind the apparent chaos. As she worked she immersed herself in a growing contentment that only those that drew comfort from organization would recognise. She felt reassured to be back doing what she did best and on familiar ground organising, filing, sorting and clarifying. It wasn’t everyone’s preferred way of spending the hours but she didn’t care and as it helped her to get all the details sorted out in her own mind, and it was detail that she liked and a sorted mind that she liked even better, she was immensely pleased for it. Having said that, sorting all the details neatly and filed away in her own mind wouldn’t usually have had an iota of consequence for herself as usually all this work was for the benefit of the more important men, men to whom and from whom very little was said. In this instance however, she thought that to have a deep and detailed knowledge might come in handy at some future point as Sergeant Mori and Inspector Saito both seemed to regard her as indispensible to the case and although she drew energy and comfort from immersing herself in the paperwork she had been gratified that her input, hitherto, had been liberally recognized.
She smiled to herself as she worked and the faint freckles on her cheeks seemed to reflect her inner contentment.
It was while she was still engrossed in her activities that a face popped itself round the door. The face studied her for a while.
'You're working hard!'
'I don't think we've met. Inspector Sakamoto!' He neither bowed nor offered his hand.
Junsa Saito scrambled to her feet and bowed low. 'Junsa Saito, sir - secondment - from Chiba.'
'Chiba eh... You like it down here?'
'Yes, sir.'
'No need to be coy with me Junsa. I'm just passing the time of day. I hear you are working on the Yamada case. Turned up anything new?'
'Well...'
'Like I said - no need to be coy. We're all on the same team here.'
Sakamoto sat on the side of the desk and picked up a document that was lying there. 'What's this?' he said in a voice that attempted, but failed, to hide his interest.
‘Inspector Saito’s notes concerning the Yoshihara.'
'Is it linked to the Yamada case?' Again he tried to simulate disinterest.
