Yoshio Amamiya was out.
The front door was locked and his car was gone. Mikami waited half an hour, but he showed no signs of coming back. He wrote a note on one of his business cards and wedged it into the letterbox. I’ll try again this afternoon.
Mikami felt uneasy. He wasn’t worried about Amamiya having second thoughts; instead, the feeling came from his not knowing why Amamiya had decided to accept the commissioner’s visit in the first place.
His team were sitting in the guest area when he got back to the office. They were going through some last-minute checks, huddled over photos and a map marked with the route planned for the next day’s inspection. What do we do if someone turns up with a new cameraman? Do we need a signal for when they need to leave the site where the body was found? Do we have enough spaces for the press during the visit to the Investigative HQ in Central Station? Any more notifications of roadworks scheduled along the commissioner’s route? With the ease of a seasoned professional, Suwa was relaying a list of points to confirm. Kuramae was scribbling them down as fast as he could, but failing to keep up. Mikumo seemed like an elder sister, providing the relevant details and more whenever one of the men asked her a question.
Mikami felt his tension subside. What he saw before him now was no different to anything he’d seen before, but it felt new and welcoming. At his desk, he ran through the day’s schedule.
12.00:
Commissioner arrives. Lunch with Captain Tsujiuchi.
13.20:
Visit site of Shoko’s body in Sadacho. Offering of flowers and incense.
14.15:
Commissioner provides encouragement to Investigative HQ in Central Station.
15.05:
Commissioner pays respects at Amamiya home. Offering of incense.
15.25:
Walking interview outside Amamiya home.
It’s really happening.
Mikami lit a cigarette and closed his eyes. What were Criminal Investigations doing? He didn’t think for a moment they’d get through the day without something happening. Arakida had spread word of what Tokyo intended to do to every detective in the prefecture. He’d put everything in place to transform Prefecture D into another Dallas. What was he planning for his next – no, his last – move?
Time moved irritatingly slowly for the rest of the morning. Nobody called, and the reporters were mostly absent. ‘Everything’s good and ready,’ Suwa had said. ‘As long as nothing unexpected happens.’ He hadn’t forgotten to add that final part. Yet the office remained tranquil, and no news came in to suggest anything had happened in Tokyo.
Mikami joined the others when they ordered food for lunch. Gulping down the warm soba noodles, he found himself worrying whether Minako had eaten. What had she been feeling the night before? It was difficult to untangle the threads of the conversation they’d had in bed. It felt as if it might have been a critical juncture; at the same time, it felt as though they’d wandered into some sort of fable-like other world.
I just wonder . . . whether Ayumi just needs somebody else. Someone other than us.
I should have bought a bento and taken it back. He came seriously to regret not having done so, with too much time on his hands even as late as the afternoon. No plays from Arakida. No calls from Akama. The calm before the storm, maybe. Perhaps the storm had already passed, the decisive battle won on a scale he wasn’t even aware of.
It was after 2 p.m. I should go back to Amamiya’s. Mikami was just getting to his feet when Suwa, who had been checking on the next room, came back in. He looked puzzled.
‘I’m going to take a quick look at the fourth floor.’
‘Why?’
‘One of the Yomiuri reporters was trying to get hold of First Division for some stats on breaking and entering . . . he was complaining about the lines being busy.’
‘Investigative Planning?’
‘Right. He thought he’d try out Assistant Chief Mikura’s desk, but again no one answered.’
Under normal circumstances, Mikami wouldn’t have paid it any more attention.
‘Go check it out.’
It didn’t feel right. Having sent Suwa on his way, he pulled over the internal line and pushed the number for Investigative Planning. The line was busy. He tried again, this time opting for Mikura’s desk. No answer, the same as the Yomiuri. He kept trying, but the result was the same.
Something’s wrong.
Even if Mikura was out of office, a nearby member of staff would surely pick up instead. Mikami took a chance and tried First Division Chief Matsuoka’s number. Nothing. No answer. Taking the next step, he called Director Arakida’s phone. The line rang uselessly. Matsuoka and Arakida, both out of office. Mikami let the ringing continue, ten, fifteen times, but there was no one running to answer it.
Calm down, he told himself, then tried the number of the assistant chief of Second Division. I can ask Itokawa. The two divisions were next to each other, straddling Forensics. If something major was happening in First Division, he’d notice whether he wanted to or not.
He couldn’t believe it. Itokawa wasn’t answering. Second Division, too . . .?
Mikami lifted his head.
‘Go check Second Division and Forensics. And the Mobile Investigation Unit.’
Kuramae and Mikumo were on their feet before he finished, forgetting even to salute as they dashed from the room. Mikami’s fingers were unsteady as he dialled Forensics. Here, too? Nobody picked up. He flicked through his directory and dialled Mobile Investigation’s main unit. They were located just across from Second Division. The line was busy.
The external line started to ring in front of him. It was Suwa. He sounded out of breath.
‘Something’s definitely up. There’s only one guy up here manning First Division.’
‘One?’
‘A desk worker, youngish. He’s fielding all the calls.’
‘Did you check the detective area?’
‘I did. Completely deserted.’
‘Ask where everyone went.’
‘But . . . he’s busy with the calls.’
‘Wait for a gap, and ask.’
Mikami ended the call and picked up the internal line again. Mobile Investigation, West Dispatch Unit. No answer. He had just clucked his tongue in annoyance when someone picked up.
‘Mobile Investigation, West Dispatch.’
Whoever it was was almost shouting. And young.
‘This is Mikami, from Media Relations in headquarters. Is your captain there?’
There was a short pause. ‘I can’t put him on.’
‘Why not?’
‘He’s gone out.’
‘Where to?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know?’
‘Sorry, I’ve got another call—’
The external line was ringing again. Mikami picked up after slamming down the internal line. He heard Mikumo speaking in a subdued voice.
‘There’s no one here except for Satake, from Fingerprinting. He’s on the phone.’
Kuramae was the next to call.