‘You must have pushed a little, tried to suss out what he was talking about?’
‘Naturally. He said nothing, of course. Administrative Affairs, Internal Affairs; they ask the questions. You don’t know what they’re up to, and they certainly won’t tell you.’
Mikami nodded sharply. He could feel his sympathies shifting to side with the detective’s. He felt something close to anger, even jealousy. That this was related to Six Four was certain. Futawatari had trampled barefoot over the holy ground of the investigation. He had emerged from his natural domain, the depths of Administrative Affairs, only to offer a glimpse of a mysterious document neither Mikami nor Mochizuki had known existed: the Koda memo.
Mikami’s phone started to vibrate in his jacket pocket. He cursed, checking the display. Media Relations.
‘Sir. I think you might need to come back.’
Suwa’s whispering tone told Mikami something had happened. ‘What is it?’
‘We’ve just been told the press intend to issue a formal protest, in writing, to the station captain.’
12
Mikami hurried back to the Prefectural HQ.
He came to a sudden stop after opening the door to the office. Akikawa from the Toyo was perched on one of the room’s couches. He’d been calling out to Mikumo, but when he looked at Mikami it was with the same detached expression he’d had earlier in the morning. Mikami took a seat, then levelled his gaze at the man opposite him.
He already knew his opening line.
‘You seem determined to make trouble.’
‘You’ve left us no choice, Mikami.’
He was utterly composed. Akikawa had never been the type to curry favour, even one to one. And he was even less likely to do so with Mikumo in the room. She was working on the layout of the bulletin, her expression impassive and doll-like. She’d clearly erected a barrier, deciding to completely ignore Akikawa so he wouldn’t get the wrong idea. Suwa adopted a different approach. Like Mikumo, he’d assumed a look of nonchalant disinterest, only his aim was to conceal the agitation in the room. He was acting as though Akikawa’s presence were perfectly normal.
Mikami’s approach was similar to Suwa’s. When he spoke, his voice was measured and calm.
‘You don’t think you’re being a little unreasonable? Threatening to submit a written protest to the station captain out of the blue like this?’
‘I’ve arranged to hold it back for now. If you give us the woman’s name by tomorrow evening, we’ll withdraw the protest.’
‘Sounds like a threat to me.’
‘Such a negative word. It’s like I said – you left us no choice, flatly refusing to listen in that arbitrary way.’
‘We can’t compromise on everything.’
‘Nor can we. I’m sorry, but I can’t let this one go. It’s the consensus.’
‘Okay – who will it be?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Who do you intend to submit the protest to?’
‘The station captain, of course.’
Mikami felt a chill on his forehead. They really were planning to breach the inner temple of the Prefectural HQ. He pulled out a cigarette and lit the tip.
Time to negotiate.
‘Could you lower your sights a little?’
‘What do you propose?’
‘Address the document to me, or the chief of the Secretariat.’
Suwa had told Mikami during their earlier call. Never, in the history of the station, had the Press Club submitted a written protest to anyone ranked higher than division chief. I don’t think it’s ever happened anywhere – for a written protest to be submitted to the captain of any headquarters. His voice had been stretched to breaking point.
Akikawa was grinning faintly.
‘Mikami, are you asking for a favour?’
‘I am.’
‘You know, it didn’t really sound that way.’
‘Will you do it if I apologize?’
‘Unfortunately not. Consensus, like I said.’
Mikami clenched his fists under the table. ‘Okay. At least leave the document with me.’
‘Leave it with you? You’re asking me to hand you a document addressed to the station captain?’
Mikami nodded; Akikawa suppressed a laugh.
‘Why would I do that? You’d only hold on to it . . . the captain would never see it.’
‘It’s enough to prove you did it.’
Whoever they gave the document to, the fact would remain that they had submitted a written protest to the station captain. Yet Akikawa rejected the idea without hesitation.
‘Let’s not engage in politics, Mikami. All you have to do is give us the woman’s name. It shouldn’t be that hard.’
From the corner of his eye, Mikami saw Suwa scratch his chin. The middle ground was to keep the document in Media Relations. Suwa’s expression made it clear he’d decided on that as the target.
‘We’d like your response by 4 p.m. tomorrow. We’ll hold another meeting once we have your answer.’
Seeing that Akikawa was getting ready to stand, Mikami raised a hand. ‘There’s also the commissioner’s visit. Can I assume everything is on track with the questions?’
‘That is something to discuss once this is resolved.’
‘We need them soon.’
Akikawa flashed a smile, the expression declaring he’d found another weakness.
‘More importantly, you’re really not going to tell us what this morning was all about?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The reason behind the change in you, Mikami. We’ve had no luck working it out ourselves.’
‘Don’t you have more important things you should be doing?’
The words slipped out, a reflex.
Akikawa looked puzzled. ‘More important things . . .?’
‘You’re representing the club this month, so you need to focus on the anonymity argument: fine, just make sure you don’t neglect your actual job. There’s also the investigation into bid-rigging charges concerning the art museum. That isn’t over yet.’
Akikawa’s expression hardened. Second Division’s investigation was reaching a climax, and the race for coverage was intensifying. The Asahi and the Yomiuri had each run pieces covering the story. The Toyo had lost its initiative and would, if things continued as they were, have to face a miserable defeat.
‘We’re working on that, too, don’t you worry,’ Akikawa said, annoyed but unbeaten. ‘I take it it’s not illness, something like that?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘You know . . . maybe you haven’t been feeling well, had to change the way you do your job. That sort of thing.’
Mikami felt a sudden, powerful urge to strike the man.
‘I’m just fine, as you can see.’
‘Okay. Well, don’t think we’re going to pull any punches, then.’
Akikawa strode out of the room, sparing a glance for Mikumo. Suwa gave Mikami a quick look then jumped to his feet, following him out. He invited Akikawa to Amigos, the karaoke bar of choice in Administrative Affairs.
It was a while before Mikami felt able to stand. It wasn’t just his anger at Akikawa. There was a bitterness in his throat, too.