‘Yeah.’
They were talking casually, but Mikami didn’t recognize their voices. Urinating. The footsteps outside began to fade as everyone headed downstairs. Someone was using the tap, at the sinks. Washing his hands. Another tap came on over the sound. What was the third person doing? The sound of water stopped. Two sets of footsteps, heading for the door. ‘See you later.’ Had that been for the one still there? There was no answer. If he’d responded with a nod, that would suggest he was their superior. Outside, the footsteps moved slowly away. Another tap came on. The sound of someone washing their hands. And . . . their face. Was it Matsuoka? The tap stopped. Mikami focused his entire being on listening. His fingers were already on the lock inside the door.
Another slam. Someone else had come in. ‘Hi.’ The man who’d just come in spoke. Mikami couldn’t move. He hadn’t heard the snap of hands. It was possible the sound of the door had masked it. Even if that had been the case, Mikami knew he couldn’t risk leaving the cubicle when there were two people in the room. The man’s footsteps retreated along the corridor. The second man left shortly afterwards.
A long wait followed.
Six o’clock . . . six thirty . . . seven . . . How many times must he have checked his watch? No one had tried to call his phone. What had happened to Suwa? Had he managed to hold his ground? What about Kuramae and Mikumo – were they making progress? Were the press honouring the provisional agreement? Why hadn’t Akama or Ishii tried to get in touch?
Someone else walked out. There had been a constant flow of people, but Mikami still hadn’t heard the sound he’d been waiting for. It was possible he’d missed it. Or that Matsuoka wasn’t even in the building. The doubt worsened Mikami’s anxiety. He was chilled to the bone. Most of the time, he was sitting on the toilet with the lid down, standing only occasionally to stretch his arms and legs. It was nothing compared to the extreme conditions he’d often had to endure for stake-outs in the past, but his pulse would still race each time someone entered the room, never sure when they might knock on the cubicle door.
Eleven minutes past seven. He’d just glanced at the time when the door opened again. He heard the clicking of footsteps on tiles. The man’s pace was calm and composed, not slow, not hurried. Mikami’s eyes stretched open. He couldn’t remember the way Matsuoka walked. He’d never consciously thought about his pace, the sound his feet made. And yet . . .
It’s him. He knew it instinctively.
Urinating. More footsteps. The tap came on. He was washing his hands . . . rinsing his face. The tap stopped; with it, the sound of the water. Mikami pressed his ear against the gap in the door.
Snap.
Mikami walked slowly out of the cubicle. He saw the man’s shoulders first. His hands were still horizontal, pivoted like knives beneath his arms.
‘Sir.’
What would it take to make him register surprise? When Matsuoka turned around it was as though nothing was wrong; he gave Mikami a casual greeting and glanced at the bandage on his right hand. Still . . . he was there. The de facto leader of Criminal Investigations was there, leading the investigation at the front.
Mikami walked closer. His knees felt weak, frozen.
‘I don’t mean to ambush you. I was just hoping we could talk.’
‘Huh. You taking cues from the press these days?’
‘I couldn’t think of another way to speak to you.’
Matsuoka took a handkerchief from a trouser pocket and dabbed it over his wet face. ‘I’m busy, as I’m sure you know. Make it quick.’
Mikami nodded once. ‘I need to know the identity of the family.’
‘I can’t tell you.’
He responded without even pausing. But he hadn’t sounded hostile.
‘Sir. I can’t keep the press under control if the family are kept anonymous – not in the case of a kidnapping. They’re refusing point-blank to sign the coverage agreement.’
‘Huh . . .’
‘Sir?’
‘That’s it? That’s why you’re here?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I haven’t traded my soul away, not yet. I believe that’s what you said?’
There was a steely light in his eyes. He was referring to their conversation in First Division. Criminal Investigations or Administrative Affairs – throughout the conversation, Mikami had focused on the two positions and nothing else.
‘Did you find out the real motive behind the visit?’
‘Yes, from Arakida.’
‘And yet you still work for Admin. Go to such lengths.’
‘I’m not doing this for Admin or for Tokyo. This is simply my duty as press director. If you could think of it that way.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘I can see why you don’t believe me. All I can ask is that you do. This is what I have to do as press director. It is absolutely imperative that I rein the press in and get them to sign a coverage agreement. I can’t go back without the names.’
Matsuoka tilted his head to one side.
‘It’s that important?’
‘Sorry?’
‘I’m asking if it’s important enough to justify you waiting in ambush for me.’
Mikami took a long breath.
‘I have no doubt it seems ridiculous from a detective’s point of view. Unrelated to our original vocation as officers of the law. That’s how I used to think, too. Keeping the peace was about making arrests. The world, a hunting ground. Now I know better. There are 260,000 officers out there, each with their own role to play. Detectives are just a minority. The majority of our officers work out of sight, away from the limelight. They haven’t been awarded the hands of god. But they take pride in what they do, regardless. And without their pride and their hard work – every single day of the year – an organization as huge as ours would never function. Media Relations has its own pride. Detectives mock us for reaching out to the media, but there’s no shame in that. Kowtowing to Administrative Affairs, letting them force us to sever all links to the outside world – that would be worthy of shame.’
Matsuoka folded his arms. He was thinking about what Mikami had said. Or Mikami himself.
‘I haven’t sold my soul. But nor am I clinging on to my past as a detective, not any more. The distinction between Criminal Investigations and Administrative Affairs is irrelevant. All I have to do is make sure I carry out my duty to—’
The door swung suddenly open. A man came in, probably another detective. Mikami avoided his gaze. It’s over. Just as the thought arose, Matsuoka turned around and addressed the man.
‘Use downstairs.’
‘Ah, of course.’