His voice broke into a falsetto as he replied.
‘That Hiyoshi left the force, that he spent the next fourteen years refusing to leave the house. Did you know about that?’
‘No . . .’
‘He’d been crying, hadn’t he? The second day you were with the Amamiyas.’
Kakinuma’s eyes were restless, moving in the rear-view mirror.
‘I didn’t know.’
‘Somebody saw it. Koda was trying to comfort him. What were you doing?’
‘I can’t remember. I . . . was probably busy talking with HQ.’
Mikami leaned forwards again, bringing his face right up to Kakinuma’s. The man’s ears had gone bright red.
‘Do you know about the Koda memo?’
‘No.’
The answer had come too quickly. Kakinuma’s half-open mouth was trembling slightly.
‘Koda wrote about Hiyoshi’s mistake. Yes?’
‘I just told you—’
‘But Urushibara covered up both the mistake and the memo. Because he was afraid he’d lose his job.’
‘Mikami, I don’t know an—’
‘Are you the kind of person who abandons his team mates just to protect his boss?’
Mikami put everything into the words. Kakinuma’s neck stiffened. His arteries were pumping visibly.
Mikami waited for Kakinuma’s reaction.
Kakinuma eventually opened his mouth to speak. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Mikami let out a heavy sigh. All Kakinuma’s physical reactions had registered positive. But not his words. Mikami had guessed it might go this way. Kakinuma was on the far side of a dark river; appealing to his morals alone wouldn’t get him across.
‘Do you mind if I move off now?’ There was a firmness to his voice. His hand was already on the handbrake.
‘Keep doing what it is you’re doing.’
‘I already told you, I’m done.’
‘What’s done?’
‘My job. What I’m doing here.’
They were talking at odds to each other. The mood in the car became increasingly one of irritation.
‘I’m pulling out.’
‘Don’t you dare,’ Mikami threatened. His brain felt like it was on the verge of some kind of realization.
‘Anyone can see us here. If you want to talk, can we please do it somewhere else?’
‘You’re the one who parked here . . . where anyone can see us.’
Something clicked when he put it into words. Kakinuma had done this on purpose: there was no other explanation. Kakinuma had wilfully ignored the rules of a stake-out: he’d meant to park somewhere where he stood out. The man’s shrunken pupils flicked a glance at Mikami in the mirror.
‘I can drive you back to your car.’
‘I’m just back there. I’ll get out once we’ve finished talking.’
‘We haven’t finished yet?’
‘Not yet.’
Mikami had run out of moves. And it pained him to pressure Kakinuma any more. The image of Meiko was there in his mind. He’d seen their three children. Kakinuma was no different to him. He was unable to do the right thing, even if he wanted to. He was protecting his family.
Mikami sensed his will to fight wither away. He felt a wave of resignation washing over him. Yet he found himself increasingly curious about the strange disconnect in their conversation. Kakinuma had maintained his position without breaking, but, instead of letting his guard down, with each passing second he seemed to be growing more agitated. He looked like he was choking. He was holding the handbrake halfway down, desperate to get away.
No, that wasn’t it.
He wasn’t trying to get away. He was trying to get Mikami out of the way.
Why?
Mikami lifted his eyes and studied the view out of the windscreen.
‘If you’ve got something else to say could you hurry up and say it?’ Kakinuma pleaded. It was the voice of someone facing a very specific crisis. ‘Mikami, please!’
Mikami said nothing.
‘If not, I’ll have to ask you to leave.’
Kakinuma swung around in his seat, blocking the view from the window. Mikami shoved him out of the way and stared ahead.
‘Mikami, you’ve got what you came for!’
Kakinuma was all but screaming, but Mikami’s focus was unshakable. His eyes were being drawn towards a single point. He had the feeling you had when a face you’d been waiting for suddenly appeared in the middle of a vast crowd.
Kazuki Koda.
The car-park entrance. One of the two guards on traffic duty was Koda. His eyes were half hidden under his cap and, from the looks of it, he’d changed significantly in the last fourteen years; still, Mikami was sure it was him. The narrow eyes, the tall nose, the compact mouth. Each was a match for Mikami’s memory.
Kakinuma’s head had slumped on to his shoulders. Witnessing the depth of the man’s despair was all Mikami needed to solidify his astonishment. As though a cloth had been whisked away, everything came into view. Kakinuma hadn’t been on surveillance. Nor had he been trying to map someone’s routine. He was here as a demonstration of intent. His closeness to the object of his surveillance was deliberate: he was to show his face, intimidate Koda. Don’t talk to anyone about Amamiya’s. We can make things difficult, whenever we want.
Kakinuma probably made sure Koda was aware of him on a regular basis. He was there to drum it into Koda that they intended to keep him under long-term surveillance. That was the role Kakinuma had been assigned.
Mikami shuddered as he fixed his gaze on Kakinuma’s stooped back.
‘All this time?’
No answer.
‘Really? You’ve been doing this . . . for fourteen years?’
Kakinuma let out a groan, and cradled his head in his hands. He’d been following orders. Urushibara’s confidence, Mikami now realized, had stemmed from this framework of intimidation.
‘I’m sorry I got in your way. I’ll get the rest from Koda.’
Mikami put his hand on the handle to open the door. Kakinuma let out a subdued cry, then twisted all the way around. There were tears in his bloodshot eyes.
‘No . . . just let him be.’
‘You’re in no position to say that.’
‘No, you’re right. You’re absolutely right. But it’s not what you think. This isn’t about intimidation or surveillance – not any more. It’s just habit now. For me. For Koda, too.’
‘Habit?’
‘It’s what happens after fourteen years of doing this. Ah, he’s here today – that’s really all it is now. We don’t see each other outside of that. It’s become an unspoken agreement. It’s how I’ve made it this far – Koda, too.’ Kakinuma threw his head into a deep bow. ‘I’m begging you, Mikami. Don’t make any trouble. If you go after him, with your charisma . . . he might well say something. If he does, I’ll have no choice but to report it.’
Mikami refrained from nodding.
‘I’ve been watching him since the beginning. He’s had nothing but pain since he left. Can’t land himself a decent job. He might have left by his own volition, but everyone’s prejudiced against someone who’s resigned from the force. And he left so suddenly he wasn’t even able to get a letter of recommendation. He’s had to go from one job to the next. All physically hard. Now, he’s finally married, got himself a family. He’s started to settle into a new life. That’s why—’
‘Tell me what happened.’