Mikami stared right back.
‘Because there will be cases in which I’m sure we’ll both agree that an anonymous report will be best.’
‘Why would we agree to something like that? I don’t see it. Tell me – what kind of cases?’
‘I wouldn’t tell anyone the name of a rape victim. Much less would I ever stick it in a report on a board, detailing a name and address. If you were to insist I do that, I would have no choice but to step down from my position as press director.’
‘Well, but . . .’ Akikawa stumbled for a moment. ‘That’s an extreme scenario. What I’m worried about is you extending the interpretation. We’d be right back where we started if you were able to dictate to us the cases you deemed important or unique.’
‘Does the press need to know the name and address of a victim of rape?’
‘That’s why I’m—’
‘If we decide to make full disclosure the norm, you won’t have to fight to maintain face any more – you will all be able to make cool, rational decisions. What I’m hoping is that, instead of us having to force our opinion on to you, you will become able to sit down and think these things through: whether or not you really need to know a particular name, whether a given piece of information is important or not.’
‘It’s presumptuous. Essentially, you’re trying to brainwash us. We will not accept the proposal unless you remove the “principle” clause.’
‘Then you can consider the proposal withdrawn. It’s like I said. I’m only here talking to you like this because I trust your good judgement. If you continue to imply that you can’t trust ours, the proposal is null and void.’
‘So you’re just going to turn on us?’
‘Hold on,’ somebody said. It was Horoiwa, chief reporter for NHK. ‘We should at least consider this.’
Yamashina and Yanase joined in.
‘Horoiwa’s right. It doesn’t make sense that we reject this outright.’
‘Full disclosure as the guiding principle. That’s a big step forward. It at least gives us room for discussion.’
Kadoike from Kyodo News provided another voice in favour.
‘If he’s willing to make this proposal, the least we should do is explore the option.’
You’re right. The moderates caved. We can talk this through. We should hold a GM. Definitely – we can hold a GM to make the decision.
Akikawa was visibly shaken. His mouth was moving but nothing emerged. The other hard-liners remained silent, but it looked as though the majority were in agreement.
It happened just as Mikami thought the matter had been decided.
‘How about some proof?’
All eyes searched for the speaker. It was Madoka Takagi from the Asahi.
‘Proof . . .?’
‘You talk about full disclosure, but that doesn’t mean anything. What we need is proof. The road accident in Oito City. The driver was a pregnant woman. Can you give us her name and address now?’
The words came like those of a god – one hell-bent on destruction.
‘Hold on there, Takagi!’ Suwa let out a shrill cry. ‘You really want to drag that up again? We put the lid on that already. And you couldn’t run it in an article at this point.’
‘We never finished talking about that. It’s still relevant. Things only got this bad between us because we wanted her name and you refused to budge. I’m not sure you’re entitled to talk about moving forward unless we resolve that matter first.’
‘But . . .’
He stopped there. Suwa’s eyes darted through empty space. He’d only called attention to the validity of her argument. The tide had already begun to shift. More people were speaking up in support of her request, both moderates and hard-liners. She’s right. We have to get that sorted first. We can hold a GM afterwards. Akikawa seemed also to be regaining his poise. He made a survey of everyone in the room then sprung to his feet.
‘All right. We renew our request for Media Relations to provide us with the name of the driver. Are there any objections?’
No. The answer echoed through the room. Akikawa turned to face Mikami. It looked like he was grinning.
‘Then it’s decided. Mikami, words are easy enough. We’d appreciate a gesture of goodwill to prove your intent.’
Mikami shut his eyes. His eyelids twitched. Suwa. Kuramae. Mikumo. It felt as though he could hear their hearts beating behind him. He’d expected it would come down to this. He hadn’t foreseen the specifics, but it had seemed inevitable that to make a serious go of making Media Relations into a two-way window he’d have no choice but to tear open a few of the veins linking him to the force.
He opened his eyes.
‘Fine. We accept the request.’
Sir! He felt someone tug his jacket from behind.
‘I’ll need to go and fetch the documents,’ he said, and left the Press Room.
His staff were huddled together. Suwa cried out the moment they were inside the office.
‘Are you really planning to tell them?’
‘We have to honour our promise.’
‘It’s a terrible idea. Really bad. It’ll all be over if they realize the connection with King Cement.’
‘Her surname’s different now. If we’re lucky . . .’ Kuramae said, inciting Suwa to shout him down.
‘They’re not that bloody stupid!’
Mikami opened one of the drawers in his desk and pulled out the relevant sheet of paper. He scooped up Kuramae’s clear folder with it.
‘Sir, don’t do this.’ Suwa blocked the way. He looked desperate. ‘This is equivalent to a case of rape. I can’t tell you her name. That’s what you need to tell them.’
‘If I do that this will never end.’
‘Sir,’ Mikumo said, her hands clasped together, entreating. ‘When I talked about being less structured, that we didn’t have to rely on strategy, I was being naive. I was being stupid.’
Her head was hanging low when Mikami answered.
‘It hit me when Takagi was speaking. You can’t open a window from the inside. If we’re going to make this work, we need to try stepping outside.’
Mikami walked through them, into the corridor. Suwa grabbed his arm as soon as he was out.
‘Sir, this is the last warning I can give you. Don’t go through with this. You’ll lose your job if you do.’
‘I’ll do what I can to make sure I don’t.’
‘It won’t make a difference. Everything will be over.’ Suwa’s grip was strong. ‘I . . . if possible . . . I’d like to keep on working for you.’
The corridor was completely quiet.
Mikami took hold of Suwa’s hand. He moved it slowly away.
‘If that’s really true, you have to let me do this.’
Suwa dropped his head, resigned. Mikumo’s face was in her hands. Kuramae hovered like a ghost. Mikami wrapped one hand around the doorknob of the Press Room. He placed the other on Suwa’s chest.
‘Stay here.’
‘But—’
‘This time you stay on standby. If you were in my position, you’d ask me to do the same.’
56
The reporters had arranged themselves formally, looking like an orchestra waiting for the first wave of the conductor’s baton.
‘I’ll make the announcement.’