‘If you ask me, they’re getting carried away. If we give in to their demands at this stage, who knows where they’ll draw the line in the future? But, well, to be honest, I also don’t believe they’re being totally unreasonable. They might not need your head, but they probably do need an official apology so they don’t lose face. And they’ve got their bosses breathing down their necks. What matters is how it looks. If they at least seem to be getting their way, the moderates will come together to end the boycott.’
Mikami felt like he’d been put on a leash. And by his own staff, not even just the reporters. ‘Do you think they’d actually cancel the boycott, though, even if I were to apologize? Don’t forget we thought we knew how the votes would fall, for the written protest.’
‘Well, I can’t offer any guarantees. But we’ve got to make sure they don’t go through with the boycott, whatever happens; we’ll have to make do with the hand we’ve been dealt.’
Mikami gazed into empty space.
‘If we were to issue an official apology, how do you think that would affect our influence in the Press Club?’
‘There shouldn’t be any cause for concern. I’ve seen a number of similar cases in the past, and I’m pretty sure we’ve never lost ground after an apology. It usually seems to help . . . if anything, the relationship with the press tends to improve afterwards.’
It came across as a sales pitch. He didn’t seem to think the apology came at any great cost.
‘Do you think we can keep it to our floor?’
‘Hmm?’
‘Akama won’t authorize the apology. If word of it reaches the first floor, he’ll stop us from going ahead.’
He’d lobbed the ball into Suwa’s court. Can you do it?
Suwa seemed to get the message. ‘We should be able to contain it. Yes, not a problem.’
‘Good. Let me give it some consideration.’ Mikami sighed, then took a deep breath. ‘Is Mikumo still there with you?’
‘Ah . . .’
‘She’s not something to put on display. I told you we’re not resorting to those kind of tactics. Tell her to go home, right now.’
‘But she only came out because she wanted—’
‘I won’t say it again – send her home, now.’ Mikami raised his voice and Suwa went quiet. His disapproval was palpable across the line. ‘Look, if you’ve got something to say, just say it.’
Suwa put on a patient tone. ‘There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll take responsibility for her. She’s just here to lighten the mood a little. I’m not going to let anyone take her home.’
Mikami saw red. ‘Don’t be a fucking idiot. We’re police; we don’t use women like that. I’ll slit my own stomach in front of them, if that’s what it takes – but you send her home this instant. Do you understand?’
Suwa refused to stand down.
‘You have to think about Mikumo’s own view on this. She wants to help out. If you keep her from interacting with the press, well, all she’s got is admin work. I told her, You don’t have to come. I told her she had to put up with the status quo because that’s what you wanted. Do you know what she said? That you were discriminating. I want to do the same as the rest of you. That’s what she said.’
Discriminating. It didn’t sound like something Mikumo would say.
‘Put her on the phone.’
‘Okay, but she’s had quite a bit to drink.’
‘I don’t care. Put her on.’
For the few minutes he was kept waiting, Mikami ran dozens of possible angles through his head.
‘Sir, it’s me.’ Mikumo’s voice was quiet, but not in a way that made her sound intimidated.
‘I thought I’d made myself clear before. Why did you disobey my orders?’
She didn’t answer,
‘This isn’t part of your job.’
‘I’m Media Relations, too . . .’
‘I had desk workers in First. Do you think they went chasing after killers?’
‘I want to make myself useful.’
‘You’re more than useful already, without doing this.’
‘I don’t think so. Not at all.’
Mikami let out a sigh. He readied himself for the next line. ‘I’ll admit I did consider it, that one time. I thought maybe we could use someone to help ease things with the reporters. But I never thought about using you. Just a girl in general.’
Mikumo refused to yield. ‘I’m a trained policewoman. I’m here because I think this is part of my job.’
‘The reporters won’t see it that way.’
‘I can’t change what I am. And you can think I’m trying to take advantage of that if you want to. But I can’t continue to turn a blind eye to the trouble we’re having with the press. I know what we’re trying to do. We’re the window that links the headquarters to the outside world. I’ve been reading up on the media, too. I can hold my own talking about press issues. And I can be a calming influence when everyone else is getting heated up. Besides, the reporters listen to what I’ve got to say.’
‘You’re being naive.’
‘Forgive me, sir, but I believe you’re the one who’s being naive.’
What . . .?
Mikami’s grip tightened over the phone.
‘What have I said that was naive?’
‘Just tell me what you want me to do. I can get you the information. I’m not afraid to dirty my hands a little.’
‘You’re drunk.’
‘I’m not.’
‘If you want to really make something of yourself, you should leave the police. Someone with your determination and talent – you could choose anything.’
‘I joined the force because I wanted to become an officer. I’m proud of what I do. I’m motivated by it.’
‘But you must have realized it by now – the force isn’t kind to women. A lot of men can’t hack it here either.’
‘It’s not fair.’
Mikami’s eyes stretched wide. ‘Not fair . . .?’
‘I can see how hard it is for you, in the office. It’s clear you’re unhappy with the way things are done, with having to put aside your ideals, having to use dirty tricks, that you’re trying to tell yourself you’ve got no other choice. You’re making yourself ask Suwa and Kuramae to do whatever they can, even though you obviously hate doing so. You’re angry with yourself for doing it. Everyone can see it. But . . .’ Her strained voice began to waver. ‘It’s not fair to use me as a surrogate. It’s cruel. You’re trying to keep me pure, keep me away from the dirty work, so you can feel better about yourself. I can’t take it any more. It’s horrible. I want to contribute, to help with what we’re here to do.’
Mikami stared up at the ceiling. All the fire seemed to have drained from him.
Even when Mikumo told him the battery was about to die, he had nothing to say in response.
40
It was after 10 p.m. when Mikami finally sank into his bath.
Still so early, he thought to himself.
It had felt like a long day.
Mikami’s thoughts were losing their clarity. He felt the distinction between what he knew and what he didn’t begin to slip away. His fatigue spread into the warm bathwater. Every time he closed his eyes he felt his drowsiness grow heavier.
The wind was blowing.
The frosted glass rattled in the windowpane. The house had always been old, even in Mikami’s earliest memory.
We should do the place up, his dad would say.
One day, his mother would reply.
The afternoon sun, filling the room. The faded tatami. The round dining table. On it, he could see a cake box from a local patisserie, some bottles of beer. His dad’s wartime buddy was visiting. Close-cropped hair. Bronzed profile. His whole body shook when he laughed. He turned to look at Mikami. His eyes lit up.