‘No. Not at the moment.’
In which case, he could use it as bait. Mikami went on without altering his expression. ‘Just thank your lucky stars they’re a bunch of morons.’
‘Yeah, well. Far as I know, they still have their sights on Sogawa.’
‘So it seems.’
Sogawa Construction was a mid-size company run by the younger brother of a minister in the prefectural assembly that was plagued by constant rumours of administrative corruption and even involvement with local crime syndicates. Growing tired of this, Hakkaku Construction had severed all ties to the company, meaning that Sogawa was in the clear when it came to the current case. Despite this, however, Second Division had still investigated the company when it had first come to light. The press, unable to declare Sogawa’s innocence, due to Chief Ochiai’s continuing insistence that the Hakkaku proceedings remain confidential, continued to trail behind.
‘So when do you think you’ll make the arrest?’ Mikami asked, switching neatly back to the matter at hand.
‘I can’t really say.’
‘Just give me a ballpark figure. Today, tomorrow? Sometime next week?’
‘Look, I really shouldn’t be . . .’
Itokawa looked distraught. That wasn’t like him at all. When Mikami had still been making his pilgrimages to Criminal Investigations, all he’d had to do was sit down with the man to convince him to part, albeit reluctantly, with even sensitive information.
‘You’ve been banned from talking to Media Relations.’
‘It’s not just you guy—’
Itokawa stopped mid-sentence. He looked ready to kick himself.
Mikami watched as the man’s face turned red, imagining how the conversation might have gone if it had been between two detectives. Not just Media Relations. We need to make sure nobody in Admin gets wind of this. Admin . . . Administrative Affairs. The Secretariat: under the direct control of the captain. Internal Affairs: in charge of investigating misconduct. Administration: responsible for all personnel decisions.
Something had happened that they wanted to keep hidden from these, the core divisions of the administration. The logical conclusion was that there had been some kind of slip-up in the investigation, that Criminal Investigations had seen fit to impose a gag order.
‘Someone hang themselves?’
‘No, no, nothing like that. Everything’s fine with the investigation,’ Itokawa said, flustered.
‘All right. So why the gag order?’
‘Don’t look at me. Though I’m pretty sure it’s nothing to do with the investigation.’
‘What else could it be?’
‘Look, I don’t know, but we’ve been warned to keep our mouths shut in front of you Admin guys. Whatever questions you’re asking.’
Keep our mouths shut? Mikami could hardly believe what he was hearing. ‘What the hell is going on here?’
‘I’m telling you, I genuinely don’t know.’
‘And you can’t talk even to me?’ Mikami leaned in some more, but he’d seen that there was no deception or trickery in Itokawa’s eyes.
‘Try asking the director. I want to know what this is all about as much as you do.’
So the gag order had come directly from the director of Criminal Investigations. Arakida had ordered every officer in his department to clam up in front of Administrative Affairs, without telling them why. It was as though he were trying to imitate Akama’s own dictatorial style of management.
‘That’s why you gave Kuramae the cold shoulder . . .’
‘Don’t take it personally. What are you after, anyway, Mikami, barging in like this just because I turned him away? Okay, so you don’t have much intel over there, but I wonder if you really need to be asking so many questions about the case . . .’
Mikami was suddenly on the defensive.
‘I’m just getting things ready, for the press conference.’
‘And that’s all?’
‘What other reason would I have?’
He hadn’t meant to hide the truth, but learning about the department’s disturbing orders had left him a little wary of revealing his hand.
‘Well, if that’s all, I’ve got a meeting that’s about to start.’ Itokawa took Mikami’s response as a chance to wind up the conversation before excusing himself from the room to take a call.
Mikami headed downstairs deep in thought.
The talk had been useful.
While he hadn’t been able to extract a date for the CEO’s arrest, he had learned that the press had yet to find out about his involvement. Mikami could use the fact that he had been questioned as bait in his negotiations.
The token sense of achievement this gave him was short-lived. His thoughts kept returning to Itokawa’s inexplicable pronouncement. Look . . . we’ve been warned to keep our mouths shut in front of you Admin guys. Whatever questions you’re asking.
That was unlike any previous gag order Mikami had known. A blanket prohibition on all communications with Administrative Affairs. That was what it sounded like. Akama’s words from the previous day forced their way back into his head.
No, your request is to be made directly. There’s no need to involve Criminal Investigations.
This is the remit of Administrative Affairs. Surely it would only complicate matters to bring Criminal Investigations into the fray? Once you have the groundwork in place, I will contact the Director personally. Until then, you are to treat this matter as confidential.
Had something happened between Criminal Investigations and Administrative Affairs? The two departments shared a relationship that was the same wherever you went.
It was the same in Prefecture D. As far as Mikami was aware, there were no issues they faced now that could have sparked an open conflict between the two departments.
And yet . . .
Akama and Itokawa’s comments. Could he assign the mysterious alignment – like two sides of the same coin – to mere chance? Mikami felt a sudden chill. His mind had brought up an image, of the one man able to engineer coincidence into destiny: Futawatari.
The ace of Administrative Affairs had been acting strangely. Digging into Six Four. Seeking to unearth Criminal Investigation’s greatest and most shameful failure. Something must have happened. The conflict hadn’t started with Second Division’s bid-rigging; it had started with First Division, with Six Four . . .
Mikami came to a stop on one of the landings. Above him was Criminal Investigations; below, Administrative Affairs. He couldn’t help thinking of the landing as a mirror, a perfect reflection of the position he’d found himself in.
17
The deadline was getting close.
‘The Toyo, the Asahi, the Mainichi and Kyodo News are all lost causes. They’re determined to submit the protest to the captain, and they’re not going to budge.’
The three of them – Mikami, Suwa and Kuramae – were in close discussion on the couches in Media Relations.