It was hegemony. Seizing power was an instinct of the central command. Most likely some large cog had ground into motion somewhere in Tokyo. They would pick away at the autonomy of the regional police. Pull down the curtain, see through to their ambition of a centralized police authority. Was their announcement going to be the opening gambit? A trial run? Whatever the case, it would send shivers down the spines of any medium to small regional headquarters with its own Criminal Investigations Director. Just one failed case could result in them losing the post. The precedent would give rise to a fear that would spread and multiply until it fostered a terror of the NPA.
Was that their real aim? Punishment as example. Putting Arakida’s decapitated head on display to drive home the real power of the central authority.
A wind picked up, hitting Mikami from the side.
The NPA intends to make us into a fiefdom of Tokyo.
Mikami squeezed his hands until they hurt. He could feel the blood coursing through his body. The blood of a detective. It was the only way he could parse the intensity of emotion, making his entire body feel like a clenched fist.
50
The lamp indicated that Captain Tsujiuchi was still in his office.
Mikami strode across the Secretariat, heading directly for Chief Ishii’s desk. His hands were still balled tight. The temperature in the room should be comfortable, but it felt like a sauna, the heat almost suffocating.
Ishii was sitting with his chair swivelled to one side, fiddling with a remote control. He seemed restless. The evening news was about to start, showing the footage from Akama’s earlier press conference.
‘Oh, Mikami . . . what is it?’
‘I want to talk to the captain. There’s an urgent matter I need to discuss,’ Mikami said.
Ishii’s eyes stretched into circles. ‘What could be so urgent?’
‘I’d prefer to speak to him personally.’
‘Ridiculous. Well, come on? Have you raised it with Akama?’
‘He’s not here.’
Mikami had already stopped by Administration. I expect he doesn’t want to see the news. Shirota had said this, also fiddling with a remote in his hands as he did so.
‘Okay, well, just tell me what it is you want to say. If it’s important, I will relay it to the captain.’
The conversation had already exhausted Mikami’s patience. He bowed sharply to Ishii, then started for the captain’s office at the back of the room.
‘Hey . . . what are . . . stop!’
Ishii’s voice became a screech. Mikami ignored him and kept walking. He knocked on the distinctive wood-textured door.
‘Come in.’
Mikami could only just make out the subdued response.
‘Mikami!’
Ishii had jumped out from behind his desk, shrieking now.
‘Mikami, stop right there!’
Mikami felt something grab his arm. He brushed it away and pushed the man’s feeble chest. Ishii stumbled backwards a couple of steps before careering on to his backside. His eyes were full of shock as they peered up. Mikami looked away and pushed open the door.
‘Thank you, sir.’
Everyone in the office got to their feet, but too late. Mikami was already making his way into the captain’s office. He closed the door behind him. The heavy sound served to cut off the outside.
Even the air in the room felt alien. Subtle, indirect lighting. Space enough to hold a cocktail party. Leather couches with a dozen or so armchairs. Thick carpet, woven with an intricate pattern. Tokyo’s place in the Prefectural HQ. The NPA. That was why Mikami was there.
Kinji Tsujiuchi was sitting at his desk.
His eyes came up to scan Mikami, unpleasant as they traced a line from his head to his feet. Mikami had been here two times in the past, but he’d never exchanged more than simple greetings with the captain.
‘Mikami, wasn’t it? Press director.’
His voice was soft, showing no signs of reproach for Mikami’s disrespect in pushing his way through Ishii.
‘That’s right,’ Mikami said, just as he heard a knocking from behind.
The door opened, shunting him forwards into the room. Ishii’s face was as bright red as a monkey’s.
‘Sir, please forgive the intrusion. I’ll get him to leave right this—’
Mikami talked over him. ‘I have something urgent to discuss. Would it be possible for us to talk in private?’
‘Mikami, you . . .’ Ishii said, his voice low, simmering with indignation.
Tsujiuchi glanced at them both in turn, his open curiosity showing through. ‘Ishii, you can leave us alone.’
‘But, sir . . .’
‘It’s fine. It’s refreshing to hear from people in the field, every now and again.’
‘But, sir, you’re already due at the—’
‘I shouldn’t like to repeat myself, Ishii.’ Tsujiuchi gave Ishii a reproachful look, causing the man to recoil as though he’d been physically whipped.
‘Of course, forgive me. I can give you both five minutes. I’ll call in when the time is up.’
‘I’ll ring the buzzer for you when we’re finished.’
There was nothing else Ishii could say. He gave an almost comically deep bow and stepped out of the room, his eyes pleading with Mikami.
‘Come over, take a seat.’
‘Thank you.’
Mikami was able to move smoothly across the floor. The blood coursing through him made it easy. He sat upright on the couch. Tsujiuchi was right in front of him. A wide forehead giving the impression of a keen intellect. Thick brows. Cool, elongated eyes.
‘What did you want to talk about?’
‘I have something I want to ask.’
‘A question, rather than a discussion?’ The curiosity visibly drained from his eyes. He had possibly been looking forward to listening to the bellyaching of a field officer. ‘Fair enough. Out with it, then. I’ll answer if I can.’
Mikami tipped his head in thanks. He focused his eyes around the bridge of Tsujiuchi’s nose. He couldn’t be sure that Arakida had been truthful. With Akama gone from the building, he had no choice but to ask the captain himself.
‘It concerns the orders you gave Futawatari.’
‘Futawatari? I don’t remember seeing him recently . . . did he say I asked him to do something?’
Was he pretending not to know?
‘The commissioner general is due to visit us, on Thursday.’
‘Indeed.’
‘He is planning to install an officer from Tokyo as the new director of Criminal Investigations. I’ve heard this is what he plans to announce.’
‘Quite right.’
Mikami felt a stabbing in his chest. The captain had vaulted clean over the hurdle.
‘What of it?’
‘I wanted to know the reason for the decision.’
‘The reason? Why, the kidnapping, of course. It’s a public appeal, a gesture to show we don’t intend to give up.’
‘So it will be a temporary measure?’
‘I don’t see what you’re getting at . . .’
‘If the case is solved, for example. Am I correct in understanding that the position will be returned to us?’
‘I don’t know, although I’d wager that’s yet to be decided. You’d do better to ask the commissioner, when he gets here.’
‘So it’s possible the change could be permanent?’
‘As I said, I don’t know. I believe some district stations alternate between the two. Mostly, it seems to be case by case.’
‘Meaning it rests on the availability of the right people.’
‘Quite. Personnel is key. Our Criminal Investigations department has suffered quite a bit, in that respect.’
Mikami was becoming increasingly crestfallen. What had been a dotted line was quickly filling in, becoming fact. He’d finished testing the truth of Arakida’s words.
The NPA intends to make us into a fiefdom of Tokyo.
Mikami slid forwards on the couch.
‘Criminal Investigations is vehemently against this happening.’