‘It’s because there used to be twelve member agencies. They made the comparison with the number of months in a year. They didn’t like it when the FM Kenmin joined; in the end, they decided to keep the name because its membership was only provisional.’
He’d been hoping to alleviate the tension, but Mikumo’s expression only stiffened. Probably because he was on edge. It wasn’t anything rational. She’d made a stand. Defied an order. He understood that he’d driven her to do it, at least in his mind, but it was hard to face up to the truth here in the office.
Especially if . . .
As he’d feared, Mikumo wasn’t going to let her chance to apologize slip by.
‘Sir, about last night—’
There’s no need. Mikami cut her off. There was nothing worse than having someone ask forgiveness when they’d done nothing wrong. ‘Let’s just move on, shall we? How did it go after our call?’
She looked unsure.
‘I’m asking seriously. I just want to know what you thought about it, about dealing with the reporters.’
‘Okay . . . Well, I think I learned a lot.’
‘About?’
‘We talked a lot. I think I got a good feel for their side of the story.’
‘Their side of the story?’
She gave an awkward nod.
‘One of the things that shocked me the most, when I started here, was the hostility of the reporters. It reminded me of when I worked for Transport in district. Whenever we caught someone who was parked illegally or speeding, they always got angry; they would throw insults, treat us with contempt, make cutting remarks. Some would get aggressive and make threats, criticizing us for trying to make a quota, doing the work for its own sake. That was when I started to think that – at least when it came to the general public – what we did was a kind of necessary evil. It seemed the same with the reporters. They were reluctant to show any understanding. Decided we were the bad guys. That’s what it felt like to witness their aggression every day. But then—’
‘Sorry, just hold on,’ Mikami cut in, unable to stop himself. One of the phrases she’d used he repeated in a wave of indignation. ‘You thought we were a necessary evil?’
Mikumo looked a little anxious but was ready to defend herself. ‘I only meant to say there’s a part of that, in what we do, as far as the public is concerned.’
‘Those people were annoyed at getting a ticket. And they saw a woman so they thought they could get away with shouting. That’s all.’
‘Maybe. But they were right in that I had a quota to fulfil.’
‘And it’s also a fact that cars parked illegally block the way for fire engines, ambulances.’
‘That’s what I kept telling myself, to justify the work. But it wasn’t like when I was working in a koban. I couldn’t take pride in my work. I spent a lot of time debating with myself about whether we were a necessary evil.’
She wouldn’t last. Even supposing she got through her time in Media Relations, she would be torn to pieces in some other office.
‘Listen, we’re not here to discuss personal feelings. This isn’t your home and I’m not your father. The force is far from being any kind of mother figure.’
Mikumo stared at him, unblinking. There was a pause before she let out an almost imperceptible, shaky breath. She brought a hand up to her chest. She was trying to control her feelings.
‘Let’s go back to your report on Amigos.’
‘Okay.’
‘The reporters consider us a necessary evil. Is that what you want to say?’
Mikumo quickly shook her head. ‘I used to think so – but I was wrong. They are definitely sceptical. And they strongly believe they have to work to keep us in line. But they don’t doubt for a minute that we’re a necessary part of society. Far from it – they deal up close with so much violent crime I think they’re actually afraid, for the sake of the public, of what might happen if we start to lose our authority. If I’m right, I think there’s hope yet.’
‘Hope?’
‘For making Media Relations into an open window.’
It felt like a punch to the chest.
‘Yes, but you’ve seen the reality of how things are now. We’re no such thing.’
Mikumo started to nod, but reconsidered. She looked as though she was holding herself back.
‘You once told me you thought the koban performed that function?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Always open to the outside. With a more direct connection to the people. Was that what you meant?’
‘Yes. But also that it demonstrates through what it does on a daily basis that we’re essentially good. Everyone who expresses an interest in joining the force is the same. They want to help other people, contribute to making the world a little better. Officers new to the force don’t try to hide their sense of purpose, their will to do good. And that kind of frank openness has a positive effect on the press.’
Mikami had underestimated her – he’d assumed she was just letting off steam about her time in Transport, but she’d boomeranged back to talking about the press.
‘How so?’
‘Reporters aren’t aggressive or hostile with officers in the koban. I think that something about the atmosphere there helps them forget about the conflict; they wake up for a while. There’s a single-minded focus to the role of a koban that causes them to remember their original motivations – the sense of duty, of what’s right – for joining the press.’
The room was briefly quiet.
‘You think we lack that quality here?’
Mikumo bit her lip. Her arms and fingers were locked straight.
‘If you’ve got something you want to say, just say it.’
Nothing.
‘More personal feelings?’
‘No,’ she answered immediately, her voice constricted. She took a pained breath then looked up. ‘I don’t think we can become a window if we continue to focus on tactics. The more calculated we are, the more we exacerbate the hostility.’
Mikami made his face impassive and folded his arms.
‘Go on.’
‘Of course. We shoulder all the responsibility for dealing with the press. As far as they’re concerned, we’re more than just a portal to the inside; in many cases, they think of us as an embodiment of the organization itself. If we show them nothing but calculated moves designed to keep control over them . . . I worry they’ll see that as applying to the whole police force. I wonder if we can’t be a little more relaxed in our approach, less structured, more open-minded. I understand that tactics are sometimes necessary, I do, but if we really want to become a two-way conduit, isn’t the best tactic not to rely on strategy any more than we need to?’
Mikami had closed his eyes.
It felt like someone was telling him it was wrong to kill, even as he stood amidst a bloody crime scene. Applying the fundamentalist grammar of the koban to Media Relations wouldn’t poke even a pinhole through their thick walls, let alone a window.
The gap in enthusiasm brought on a wave of lethargy.
However impassioned her speech, Mikumo’s image of Media Relations was one that was free to think up new approaches; sadly, that just didn’t fit with the reality of the office, entangled as it was in executive politics.