‘A tip-off?’
‘About Administrative Affairs being in cahoots with Tokyo, conspiring to take over the director’s job – something to that effect. Anyway, word spread around the detectives, and now even the smaller district stations know about it.’
The instigator. Was it Arakida’s plan to get every last detective up in arms?
‘Where did you get this?’
‘A detective, someone I know from my intake. He was all riled up, called me a traitor.’
Mikami hadn’t had a single call at home. If Suwa was being targeted due to his background in Administrative Affairs, Mikami, with his history as a detective, knew he’d become an even bigger target. Bastard got greedy, sold us out. He wondered if that was what they were saying on the other side.
He picked up the external line, and dialled Amamiya’s home number. It felt more like a call to confirm, to double-check, than to run through the following day’s schedule. The phone had rung a few times when Kuramae came back into the office; Mikumo followed soon after.
Nobody picked up at Amamiya’s end. Mikami waited a while before trying again, but all he saw was the lonely image of the phone ringing by itself in the man’s empty living room. Twenty past nine. Maybe he was still in bed.
Mikami put his notebook back in his jacket pocket and got up from his desk. The internal line started to ring, stopping him. It was Akama. He told Mikami to report immediately to the first floor.
The air inside Akama’s office was still.
Ishii had been summoned, too. He was perched on the edge of one of the couches, his back hunched. He didn’t look around, although he would have heard Mikami come in.
Akama acknowledged him with a quick flick of his eyes. He’d aged in just one day. That was Mikami’s immediate impression. Harried, dehydrated. Hair not combed properly after a night’s sleep. Fingers that twitched on the couch armrest. The details all spoke of the magnitude of the stress he’d no doubt faced in Tokyo.
‘I just finished talking with Ishii.’
As he took his seat, Mikami threw a sideways glance at the man. Head drooping. Eyes staring. Mouth half-open. Whatever he’d been told, it had put him in shock.
‘Criminal Investigations apparently called him at home, issuing threats. He came to discuss the matter with me.’
Mikami saw what was coming.
‘What kind of threats?’
‘Someone’s spreading information through the department.’
‘What information?’
‘That Tokyo is planning to sequester the director’s post in the spring. That the commissioner intends to make the announcement tomorrow.’
Mikami watched Akama in silence.
Akama watched him back, clearly hoping to gauge something from his reaction. ‘You knew.’
‘Yes.’
‘You received a threatening call, too?’
‘No. No one’s been in touch.’
‘So, you’ve been in contact with them?’
Mikami said nothing in response. He felt the muscles pulling together over his forehead. Akama broke eye contact. It looked as though he’d done so to avoid an argument.
‘I’m not looking to blame you here. I heard from Suwa that you managed to placate the reporters. A job well done. It certainly raises you in my estimation. Why then . . .’ Akama looked back up ‘. . . would someone like that go crashing into the captain’s office? I hear you gave him your opinion? That you even urged him to reconsider the matter of the director’s post?’
Mikami’s eyes had fallen to Akama’s chest. He didn’t know how to revisit the emotions he’d felt at the time, even now, as Akama raised the subject. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say, not a single excuse.
‘Which one is the real Mikami?’
He gave no answer.
‘You need to make your allegiances crystal clear. The commissioner is due to be here tomorrow.’ Akama’s tie swayed as he leaned in. ‘Mikami, I wonder if you truly understand what this means. We are talking about the commissioner general, in person. He is more than an individual, more than the pinnacle of a government bureaucracy. He embodies the entire police authority.’
‘If the commissioner is the embodiment of the force, the director of Criminal Investigations is nothing less than the embodiment of the police in Prefecture D.’
Akama removed his glasses. His hand was trembling faintly.
‘Is that your answer?’
‘I just told you how it is. As press director, I have no intention of lending them my support.’
‘If that really is the case, admit to it. You know something. What is Criminal Investigations planning to do?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I seriously doubt that’s true. You must have heard something.’
‘My position precludes me from knowing anything.’
‘I’ve always held you in good favour, Mikami. Don’t disappoint me now.’
‘I’m not doing this for your benefit,’ he said, before thinking what he was saying.
Akama’s eyes widened.
‘So you do—’
‘Was there anything else?’
‘Why, you—’
‘I have to go and see Amamiya. I need to make sure everything’s in place for tomorrow.’
Akama’s eyes drifted for a moment. Then he nodded, put his glasses back on, and crossed his hands over his knees.
‘Yes, good. Make sure to consider every eventuality.’
Mikami got to his feet. He gave a deep bow of his head, Akama’s expression seeming to leap out at him as he did. His head was dipped low, his eyes upturned and steady, so he looked like a wild animal getting ready to pounce.
‘While you’re here, have you come to a decision about sending your daughter’s photo nationwide to help with the search?’
It didn’t come as a surprise. At this stage, the leash he had Mikami on was doubtless his only lifeline. Mikami made another deep bow of his head. It was a salute, marking the conclusion of eight months.
‘Thank you, I appreciate the concern. Thank you again for the special consideration you’ve been kind enough to show us until now.’ Mikami brought his head back up. ‘I would like you to remember one thing. If – heaven forbid – your daughter were ever to run away from home, we’re the ones who would search for her. The 260,000 police officers stationed in regions throughout the nation. Not the bureaucrats in Kasumigaseki.’
Mikami walked out without waiting for a reaction. His pace picked up as he strode down the corridor. Ishii was coming up from behind. He seemed about to enter the Secretariat, but his footsteps quickened; he jogged up to Mikami.
‘Mikami, there’s nothing we can do about it.’ He didn’t know how to vent his anger. It was clear from the look on his face. Down around his belt, his hands were clenched into fists. ‘It can’t be helped. It’s beyond our control. We couldn’t change it even if we wanted to.’
Ishii would have had one – I swear to protect our home – a day in his youth, when he’d pledged the same.
Mikami held back from nodding.
Instead of heading immediately downstairs, though, he stayed and watched Ishii trudge, exhausted, like a sun setting, through the doors of the Secretariat.
60