Six Four

‘That’s right. For anonymity at least, we should give up on strategizing, try trusting them. Think of it as a test run to see how far they’re willing to cooperate.’

‘Come off it. Having faith is fine, but this isn’t the place for it. As police, it’s our job to manage the press. And we can’t do this – whether it’s anonymity or something else – unless we maintain the advantage of knowing more than they do.’

‘Do you really believe that?’

‘I’m not sure what you’re trying to suggest,’ Suwa said, his head swinging forwards in defiance. ‘I’ve been working with the Press Club for six years. I know how scary things can get when we lose the ability to keep them under control.’

‘Scary? Come on. Have you ever suffered any real damage? You say things get scary. Are you sure you’re not simply afraid of what might happen to the force?’

Suwa replied with a sharp nod. ‘That should be obvious. I am a member of the Prefectural HQ. It’s my job to be scared for the organization as a whole, and it’s my duty to act in line with whatever policies have been decided.’

‘This isn’t our policy. This is Tokyo scheming.’

‘I realize that much. All the more reason we can’t go against it. We’re individuals, sure, but we’re also a part of something else.’

Mikami sucked in a long breath. Suwa had helped him clarify exactly what he needed to say. ‘Managers move on, but our duty to the force is unchanging. We should be deciding in Media Relations on how to manage the press. The four of us should make our own decisions.’

Suwa shook his head. ‘No – the entire organization is underpinned by the executive. If we ignore their instructions, what right do we have to call ourselves Media Relations?’

‘Individuals make up an organization. I don’t see any problem with an organization reflecting the will of the individuals inside it.’

‘It sounds like desperation, sir.’ Suwa’s tone hardened. He shot a contemptuous look at the bandaging on Mikami’s hand. ‘You need to think of your position. The moment you – as press director – announce our intention to go with full disclosure it becomes our official policy.’

‘Of course.’

‘Once we give them that right, it becomes next to impossible to take it away again. They would fight, much more than if they’d never had it to begin with.’

‘That’s why we won’t take it away. We’ll see it through.’

‘That’s fine for you. No doubt you’ll be happy to have established a policy. But what comes next? Come the spring, we’ll still be tied to what you said, left to suffer for it.’

‘I’m leaving in the spring, am I?’

‘Don’t pretend you don’t know. You know that’s what’s going to happen – that’s why you’re talking about full disclosure. You ignored direct orders, you bulldozed your way into the captain’s office and you lost it in front of the entire Secretariat. You’ll be transferred come spring. That’s why . . .’

Kuramae was frozen to the spot. Mikumo’s ears had gone bright red. She looked like she was the one under attack.

‘I’m just asking if we can’t be a little more realistic?’ Suwa switched to a more conciliatory tone. ‘We can think of some other way to prevent the boycott, one that doesn’t involve lying to anyone. The first thing is to apologize. Apologize, whatever might happen. If they’re unwilling to listen, we can push our way in and do it anyway. We can get down on our hands and knees. I’ll help. Kuramae and Mikumo will, too. We can stay vague about our stance on anonymity, but we’ll show we’re willing to try a compromise. “We’ll do all we can to include full details in our reports. We assure you we’ll do everything in our power to accommodate the opinions of the Press Club.” You can give them something like that. They want to interview the commissioner. There’s a chance they’ll settle for something like that, even if they do realize it’s non-committal.’

‘Did you join the force to make recommendations like that?’

‘Sorry?’

‘What about the next time? Do you intend to do the same – put off making any actual decisions, right up until the day you retire?’

Suwa flashed his teeth. ‘Choosing to be vague is a fine decision in itself. I’m fully prepared to shoulder responsibility for any suggestion I make.’

‘You’re just putting the issue on hold. That’s what causes suffering later on.’

‘What I’m saying is that the decision to put things off can be the appropriate one in certain circumstances. Even without that, I can’t agree that offering full disclosure is the correct thing to do. What about the woman in this case? Wasn’t it you who decided it was the right decision for us to withhold her name from the press?’

‘That was my original stance. Then I learned that Hanako Kikunishi is the daughter of the chairman of King Cement.’

They all stared at him, speechless.

‘But, doesn’t that mean—’

‘Exactly. They knew she was the daughter of someone on the Public Safety Committee. That’s why they wanted to keep her name out of this.’

There was a long silence.

Suwa’s mouth twisted, as he processed the new information.

‘It’s possible that . . . that even in that case it was still the right decision. If the committee was damaged at all, that would reflect on us, too.’

‘You really mean that?’ Mikami stared at him.

Suwa pulled a crooked smile. ‘I guess you really are a detective.’

‘Meaning?’

‘You detectives couldn’t care less about the organization. We could lose face, be torn apart, but to the detectives it’s someone else’s business. They look down on all the other jobs. Laugh, sneer. In a way, they’re no different to the bureaucrats.’

‘You think I’m like that?’

‘You don’t agree? Look – you’re only here on a temporary basis. This is a stop-gap thing until you return to Criminal Investigations. You think it’s ridiculous; you’re doing it because you’ve got no other choice. But people forge careers here, too. A huge proportion of officers go about their jobs with no reference to case work. You wouldn’t feel a thing if you were driven out from Admin. You were on your way out in any case. And it’s that mindset that lets you think you can be reckless, just like the bureaucrats.’

Mikami had stopped feeling angry. Instead, he felt a heavy melancholy. Staff pinned labels on their superiors, too. And in Media Relations, the black mark against him – the ‘criminal record’ – was reversed: it was his having been a detective. This meant that Suwa hadn’t thought to re-evaluate his initial opinion of Mikami, not once in eight months.

Mikami drew a long breath.

‘There’s one last thing I want you to know. Tokyo is planning to take over the post of director in Criminal Investigations. The commissioner’s inspection is camouflage. His real purpose is to make that announcement.’

Suwa’s mouth fell open and he slowly tipped his head so he was looking at the ceiling.

‘I won’t be returning to Criminal Investigations. I went against an order to ensure the boycott went ahead.’

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