Confidential? Mikami couldn’t gauge Akama’s true intent. Organizing the visit without Criminal Investigations knowing? It was painfully clear that doing so would only complicate matters even more, and the case in question was nothing less than Six Four.
‘Also, with regard to the press . . .’ Akama continued, paying no heed. ‘As I believe this is the first time you’ve handled something like this, let me explain a couple of things. The walking interview will give all the appearance of being casual, but it won’t do for us to grant the press access to the commissioner without first applying restrictions. Our preparations must be on a par with those for a member of the Diet. It would be untenable if the commissioner were to stumble over any capricious or otherwise irresponsible questions. The first thing you must do is get the Press Club to compose and submit a list of questions in advance. They will have around ten minutes to ask questions on the day. Also, only the paper representing the club this month will be permitted to conduct the interview. And you must impress on them the importance of not asking any awkward questions. Is this clear?’
Mikami looked down at his notes. He accepted that it was necessary to consult with the press beforehand. The question was whether rational discussion was possible, given the current situation.
‘I assume the press were . . . vocal again this morning?’
Had Akama noticed his unease? No, someone had probably already told him about the situation in Media Relations.
‘What’s it really like?’
‘Worse than before. I refused to give way on the anonymous reporting.’
‘Very good. We mustn’t let down our guard. They will only get cocky, try to take advantage, the moment we show any signs of weakness. Force them into submission. We provide the information, and they accept it. You need to drum that into them.’
His talk apparently over, he had started riffling through his jacket pockets, as though having remembered that he had been looking for something. Mikami peered at Ishii out of the corner of his eye. He was scribbling something in red, as exuberant-looking as earlier. Mikami’s foreboding had been right on the mark. He felt more weighed down than when he had entered the office.
‘Right – if that’s everything . . .’
Mikami snapped his notebook shut and got to his feet. Perhaps there was something in his bearing that suggested to Akama a false obedience – he called out just as Mikami was leaving the room.
‘You are the spitting image, you know. You must really cherish her.’
Mikami stopped. He turned around cautiously. In his hand, Akama was brandishing the photo of Ayumi the police were using for the search. The spitting image. Mikami hadn’t told Akama the reason why Ayumi had run away. His face burned regardless. In that instant, his fa?ade of calm crumbled. Akama looked smug.
‘The fingerprints, dental records – why don’t you discuss it some more with your wife? I just want to do all we can for you.’
Mikami’s struggle lasted only seconds.
‘Thank you.’
He bowed deeply from the waist. As he did so, he felt the blood coursing through his body.
6
‘I don’t think I can make it back for lunch.’
‘That’s fine, there’s no need to worry.’
‘What will you do for food?’
‘I’ll manage. I can make do with leftovers, from this morning.’
‘Why don’t you go and get something from Shinozaki?’
Minako was silent.
‘Take the car. It’s only fifteen minutes there and back.’
‘I think I should finish the leftovers . . .’
‘At least order in some soba, from Sogetsuan.’
Again, silence.
‘It’ll be nice.’
‘. . . Okay.’
‘Great, do that for today. But it’ll really help if you get out a little more.’
‘Darling . . .’
She was dying to end the call. The determination expressed itself, as always, through her silence. She was terrified that Ayumi would call, only to find the line busy. They had switched their old phone for a new model, adding call waiting to their contract, alongside the new caller-display functionality that had been rolled out locally in the previous year. Yet Minako refused to be placated, continuing instead to obsess over ‘what ifs’.
‘Okay, I’ll hang up. Just make sure to order something healthy with the soba, okay?’
‘I will.’
Mikami ended the call, stepping out from under the wooden pavilion in Joshi Park. The call wasn’t the kind he could make from the office, and he didn’t like to creep around the station building; instead, he had walked the few minutes it took to reach the park. The north wind was getting stronger still. In lieu of a coat, he turned up his jacket collar and hurried back along the path to the station. The weight of Minako’s voice lingered in his ears. He couldn’t let them drag each other down. When Ayumi had first gone missing, Minako had almost never been at home. Desperate for news of Ayumi’s whereabouts, she had combed the local area with a photo in hand, asking questions and chasing what few leads there were; she had even gone to Tokyo and Kanagawa. Now, she hardly stepped out of the house. The shift had taken place a month ago, after the silent phone call. The call had been followed by another. A total of three in one day. Ayumi, still hesitant. The idea had spread and taken root in her mind. She had shut herself inside ever since, waiting all day, every day, for another call. She wouldn’t listen when Mikami told her it was bad for her. Buying a new phone had had no effect – her life had changed completely. She started to buy the things she wanted by mail order. She would use food from the delivery companies to make dinner, make do with what was left for breakfast and lunch the following day. Mikami doubted she even ate the latter, when he wasn’t there to check.
It had become his daily routine to buy two bento boxes at the supermarket near the station and take them home for lunch. This, at least, made him glad he was no longer a detective. In Media Relations, he could leave relatively early to go home. When something major happened, he still needed to visit the scene of the crime ahead of the press, but, in contrast to his time in Criminal Investigations, he was no longer required to camp night after night in the dojo of whichever station had jurisdiction. Most of the time he was free to go home. To be at Minako’s side.