Darkness fell.
He saw a hand.
Minako, in her white kimono, smiling gently as she reached down with both hands.
41
As expected, the week failed to start normally. Mikami was woken by a call from Akama, which arrived even before the alarm he’d set for 6 a.m. went off.
‘Have you seen the morning edition of the Toyo?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Well, get a move on and read it.’ Akama sounded ready to explode. Still in bed, Mikami told Akama he would call back. He hung up the phone, threw a dressing gown over his nightshirt, then hurried outside to the letterbox. The Toyo had run some kind of scoop. His mind went first to the bid-rigging charges, but he dismissed the idea, realizing that Akama wouldn’t have called so early for that.
No, he thought.
The Public Safety Committee. The pregnant woman. The old man’s death.
‘Is it something in the papers?’
Minako was already up by the time he came back into the living room, the papers bundled in his hands. She had just finished turning on the heater. She was frowning, looking nervous.
‘Seems so. Could you get me a coffee?’
Having coaxed her into the kitchen, he spread open the sheets of the Toyo, then leafed through to the local section.
Two headlines in bold jumped out from the page.
GIFT VOUCHERS BUY SILENCE
DETENTION FACILITIES IN QUESTION
A chill ran across his forehead. He noticed as soon as he started to read that the article was a detailed report with a parent write-up in the national pages. He quickly scanned across to the general news. There. The article lacked the detail of that in the local section, but the headline stood out nonetheless.
PREFECTURE D POLICE HEADQUARTERS. FEMALE DETAINEE ABUSED.
His eyes recoiled from the page.
The article contained an account of gross misconduct, allegedly having taken place at Station F, in the north of the prefecture, that August.
A police sergeant in his fifties who was in charge of detainees has allegedly abused a woman in her thirties. While she was in custody on charges of suspected theft, the officer forced her to let him touch her breasts and genitalia over consecutive nights.
Mikami snapped back to the local section.
‘You’ll get out sooner if you do what I say.’ The officer had blackmailed the female detainee into permitting his misconduct. The female detainee later received a suspended sentence and, following her release, demanded an apology from the sergeant, protesting that he had taken advantage of her vulnerability, claiming his actions had been ‘unforgivable’. When she threatened to lodge an official protest with Station F, the sergeant offered her 100,000 yen in gift vouchers and begged her not to disclose the misconduct to his superiors.
Mikami drove his fist into the paper. They wouldn’t have gone this far without having first secured some kind of evidence. He could feel the bile in his throat. He admitted it was sometimes difficult to find evidence of decency within the force, but still – to think someone so twisted had the gall to masquerade as an officer of the law . . .
He flicked through the remaining papers. None contained any mention of the story. The Toyo had secured an exclusive. Suwa’s gut feeling had been on the money. Akikawa had failed to show up at Amigos: it was safe to assume that he’d been hard at work on the article.
Still, it didn’t make sense. Why hadn’t he known about the story before seeing it in the paper? Reporters always made sure to visit the executive the night before they ran a scoop of this magnitude – it was a necessary rite to request official confirmation of the facts to back up their story. Had they lacked the time, the information coming in too close to the printing deadline? Mikami supposed it was possible they had been confident enough of the truth of the story that they had deemed it unnecessary to seek official confirmation. Even then, however, they would usually call in advance to warn that the article would be in the morning paper; a surprise attack would only make it harder to approach the police for more information down the line.
And there was something else that didn’t seem right . . .
Minako had already brought him his coffee. He touched the mug to his mouth but stopped there. Picking up the internal line, he called Akama’s home number. The call connected after just one ring.
‘Okay, I saw it.’
‘It was written by one of our reporters,’ Akama said. It was a statement of fact.
The Toyo had a correspondent in charge of news in the area around Station F. Akama went on to say that the reporter, a contract worker in his sixties, had just put in an apologetic call to Kobogata, the captain at Station F: I just read the article in our morning edition. So, this really happened?
‘It was apparently the first Kobogata had heard of it.’
The captain had called the sergeant over. The sergeant had given a full confession. Kobogata had called officers from the Criminal Investigations Division and carried out an emergency arrest, citing indecent assault by a public official. An official from Internal Affairs was en route from the NPA in Tokyo, and a press conference had been scheduled to be held in the station at 9 a.m.
That was as far as things had progressed.
‘I can’t wrap my head around it. We didn’t get a single call – they didn’t call me; they didn’t call Shirota or Internal Affairs. From what I hear, this is unheard of. What do you make of all this?’
The brain asking its limbs for an opinion: it had never happened before. Akama was genuinely shaken. The scoop had made it to the national press. Mikami wondered if a call from Tokyo had interrupted his sleep.
‘I think it’s likely the reporter was tipped off; someone close to the source.’
‘That’s not what I’m asking you. I want to know your opinion as to why an article slamming us has found its way out at this particular point in time.’
Of course.
It was an attack on Administrative Affairs. The idea had come to him as he read the article: that Criminal Investigations had leaked the story to the Toyo; that they’d done an about-turn on their defensive stance, moved on to the offensive.
The fact that the article had been about the detention facilities had been suspicious from the start. The facilities were officially under the jurisdiction of Administrative Affairs, but the reality was that they were the territory of Criminal Investigations. The cells are a breeding ground for wrongful convictions. The police use them as prison substitutes: Criminal Investigations had distanced itself from the facilities, from an organizational standpoint, in a bid to stave off complaints from human-rights groups, but there wasn’t a station in the prefecture where the facilities were run exclusively by officers from Administrative Affairs. Many belonged to the department in name only, their background being in detective work; others were serving an apprenticeship with a view to becoming wardens or guards; they would often return to the facilities after a day of investigative work and keep watch over the detainees, filing detailed reports to Criminal Investigations.
What this boiled down to was that, while Criminal Investigations had full access to the facilities, whenever an issue cropped up concerning their management, it was Administrative Affairs, as the official managing department, who ended up shouldering the blame. Criminal Investigations might have lacked the means with which to expose malpractice from the more closed-off divisions at the department’s core, but it would have had ready access to a backlog of material in the case of the detention facilities.
Still . . .
Could they really have done it?
It seemed hard to believe; Akama’s apparent certainty meant that Mikami had to be careful in how he responded.
‘Sir, are you saying you think that this is Criminal Investigations trying to send us a message?’
‘A message? This is a blatant and unconditional threat. Seeing as they went after the detention facilities, they probably decided to take a small hit and deal us a serious blo
w.’
Take a small hit?
The article wouldn’t have hurt them in the slightest. Anyone in their fifties who was still a police sergeant was either gullible to a fault or just organizational flotsam. It went without saying that he wouldn’t have any experience of active duty, or in any of the department’s more high-powered roles. They had procured an ‘outsider’ for their sacrifice, making sure Administrative Affairs alone bore the brunt of the scandal.
It felt increasingly likely that it was the work of Criminal Investigations.
‘Might you be the cause, Mikami?’
The question left him stunned. The cause? Of what? ‘I’m not sure what you mean.’
‘You don’t remember fiddling around behind the scenes, perhaps accidentally stirring up more trouble than was necessary?’
Don’t be an idiot. He came close to saying it. If anyone fitted that accusation, it was Futawatari.
‘I don’t remember doing that, no.’
‘Well then, did you seek to incite them on purpose?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘You seem to have been paying visits to various people in Criminal Investigations. I believe I especially banned you from doing that?’
Mikami gritted his teeth. So that’s how it is. Akama hadn’t given him the reason for the commissioner’s visit, yet he was still ready to suspect betrayal.
‘I have nothing to hide. I’ve been getting the information I need in order to do my job, nothing more.’
‘Yes, well. You need to give this one final push, for your family’s sake, too. I will have Ishii attend the round-table meeting on his own; you can concentrate on finding out how this article came about and deal with the aftermath. Captain Kobogata will need some assistance. I want you to send someone from your team to be at the press conference in Station F. And I want to know how it went – what was asked, what the answers were – as soon as it’s done. I hope that’s understood.’
The call rang off before Mikami had a chance to respond. Mikami put the phone down, careful to be calm as he sensed Minako behind him.
For your family’s sake, too.
Never one to give up an advantage, Akama had tested the slack on Mikami’s reins.
Mikami was still glaring at the phone when it started to ring.
It was Suwa. He sounded out of breath.
‘Sir, have you seen the Toyo this morning?’
‘Yes.’
‘That bastard Akikawa. I knew it.’
‘The guy doesn’t know when to stop.’
‘It’s my fault. I should have had him monitored.’
With the apology, Mikami remembered the call the previous night, when he’d given Suwa a dressing-down about Mikumo; fortunately, the new problem helped mask any awkwardness.
‘The Times called – some of the others, too – they all want to know if the story’s true.’
‘Okay. You can tell them it’s mostly accurate. And that you believe the sergeant is already under emergency arrest.’
‘Really? He’s been arrested already?’
‘Yeah.’
‘So it’s like it said in the article?’
‘It’s probably safe to assume that, yeah.’
Suwa heaved a long sigh. Any officer would share the same sentiment. That feeling of being let down. For God’s sake, just stop dragging our name through the mud.
‘What are they doing now, having missed the scoop?’
‘Some of them have already started calling for a press conference.’
‘There’s one scheduled for 9 a.m. in Station F. Do you think you could go?’
‘Absolutely. I’ll head into the office first, and keep a watch on things for now.’
Sensing he was about to hang up, Mikami held him back.
‘Do you have any idea as to Akikawa’s source?’
Do you think it was Criminal Investigations? The question was implicit in the words. He wondered if Suwa was somehow connected to Akama, and if the connection went both ways. Was he aware of the trouble surrounding the commissioner’s visit?
‘Oh . . .’ Suwa paused before continuing, a little awkwardly. ‘Not really. Not yet, anyway. I’ll try asking around.’
‘That would be great,’ Mikami said, ending the call. He reflected on the cruelty of testing his own staff. Suwa didn’t know about the trouble. Mikami had needed to consider his own relationship with the man before worrying about any possible connections he had with Akama. He hadn’t brought Suwa in on the big picture, the same way Akama hadn’t with him. He hadn’t told Kuramae, or Mikumo.
He was struck by a cold realization.
He’d never intended to forge a real connection, not in Administrative Affairs. He would return to Criminal Investigations within two years. The veiled decision, made eight months earlier, seemed now to have been fatally short-sighted.
42
It was seven thirty when Mikami arrived at the Prefectural HQ.
Suwa was already in the office, apparently having just arrived. Mikumo was also at her desk, talking on the phone. From the side, her face seemed a little puffy. She looked his way. Nodded a greeting. She had on only a smattering of make-up, almost nothing at all; it was, perhaps, a mark of her new resolve.
Suwa stepped in front of him, as though to block Mikami’s line of sight.
‘I sent Kuramae next door to check up on the situation. There may be some way to turn this to our advantage.’
Mikami thought he understood the implication. The Toyo had enjoyed a run of exclusives. And today’s article had detailed a case of gross misconduct – grade-one material. The rest of the papers would be despairing. They had come together to rally against anonymous reporting, yet the Toyo – which had assumed a leading role in pushing the agenda – had emerged the sole victor; the others would see the Toyo as having taken advantage of the chaos and betrayed them; they would feel compelled to reconsider the validity of their united front.
‘Relations must be strained right now. I don’t think we’ll have any trouble bringing the moderates into our camp. If things go well, we might even be able to convince them to abandon their boycott of the commissioner’s interview.’
Mikami gave him a cautious nod.
It was no doubt the case that things had changed in the wake of the Toyo’s unexpected article, but Suwa’s expression didn’t carry the confidence of his words. It was only the previous night that he’d been insisting an apology was the only way to gain ground. Had he lost his nerve overnight? Media Relations acting of its own accord, without Akama’s knowledge: Mikami realized the proposition carried a lot of risk for an assistant inspector like Suwa, one of the department’s rising stars. It was nothing he could blame him for, but Mikami felt disappointed. Suwa still remained a loyal servant to Akama.
‘Good morning, sir.’
Mikumo got to her feet and dipped her head. Mikami had already noticed that she had finished her call. She stood with her chin pulled back, unnaturally formal and stiff. She was going to tell him she was sorry for the way she’d spoken on the phone. But she wasn’t going to apologize for going to Amigos. That was clear from the subtle narrowing of her eyes.
‘I dug a little into the guard.’ Suwa stepped between them for a second time. In his hands were a number of sheets, faxed copies and something that resembled a personnel file. ‘His name is Yoshitake Kuriyama. Fifty years old. Have you heard of him before?’
Mikami told him he hadn’t. There was a slight recognition – they had both been in the force for a long time – but he was sure at least that there was no one of that name in Criminal Investigations.
‘After graduating from college, he spent the majority of his career manning koban and small substations. He was transferred to the detention facilities after complaining to his boss that his back pains were getting worse.’
He wasn’t Administrative Affairs. That was Suwa’s way of stating this fact.
‘What about honours, disciplinary actions?’
‘Nothing of
note. There’s a mark against him for having misplaced paperwork relating to lost property, but that was a long time ago.’
‘Do you know how he’s thought of, in general?’
‘Not too well, it seems. I’ve just asked someone at Station F. He was a bit depressive, guarded. Liked to act important. Bit of a mess, really. They did say he was relatively good-looking, that he’d been somewhat of a hit in the local bars.’
Mikami felt a wave of nausea.
‘Okay. Did you get anything on the woman?’
‘Also less than salubrious.’
Her name was Natsuko Hayashi. Thirty-seven years old. She’d worked at a massage parlour and was currently romantically involved with a known offender who specialized in breaking and entering. Her husband was serving time on charges of repeated opportunistic theft.
Mikami couldn’t hold back a scornful laugh.
‘Quite the couple. Don’t tell me she was in on charges of theft, too?’
‘Yes, for stealing a bag. From a schoolgirl trying to buy a ticket at the train station.’
Mikami stretched his neck in a circle, letting it all sink in.
‘Seems odd that he owned up.’
‘Hmm?’
‘Kuriyama. It’s not as though his name was on those vouchers he gave her. Why not tell the captain she’d made it all up?’
‘Right. Well, it seems she had made a written statement. He would have realized there’d be trouble if his boss – or his family – ever found out; seems she managed to cajole him into writing out an apology.’
Decisive, physical evidence. Had the Toyo known about that? If they had, then that would explain their being confident enough to go ahead with the article without first obtaining confirmation from the executive.
‘Meaning it’s possible Hayashi was the source?’
Suwa’s eyes hung unfocused for a moment; he blinked a few times, then looked back towards Mikami.
Six Four Page 31
