Tokyo’s trust in Futawatari was absolute.
Each of the career officers from Tokyo posted to the prefecture had left with the impression that Futawatari could get things done, having recognized him as an indisputable high-flyer with regard to personnel and organizational management. That wouldn’t change just because one of those officials bore the title of Criminal Investigations Director. A bureaucrat was a bureaucrat. As someone held in high regard in Tokyo, Futawatari had guessed that his word would trump that of other officers in Criminal Investigations. So he would volunteer himself for a role in the background, settle into the position of Community Safety Director, just one rung down, invoking the power of his counsel to influence Criminal Investigations. Choose profit over fame. That interest, more than anything, was what was guiding the man’s actions. In Personnel, he’d defined the careers of so many others, but the whole time he’d been trying to think up a way to round off his own.
‘Give me an answer. Are you planning to sell us out, just so you can build your own personal paradise?’
‘You’re still not making any sense.’
‘You want to be a pantomime puppet for Tokyo, to pull the strings in the dark. Is that the long-cherished dream of the regional elite?’
‘I’m ending this call.’
‘If you really are some kind of top dog, you need to step up to it. I’m trying to tell you I think I’d rather have you in the director’s chair, if the alternative was a suit from the NPA.’
Futawatari made a surprised sound, then, quieter, he said, ‘You sure about that?’
Mikami focused on empty space. The man’s dark eyes felt close. The weird sensation of Futawatari passing him the towel felt suddenly real again.
‘You shouldn’t take it so seriously. It’s a symbol. It hardly matters who actually sits there.’
Mikami couldn’t follow. A symbol? Was he still talking about the director’s job? ‘Are you sure you’re one of us, Futawatari?’
‘The detectives will do their job, regardless of who’s at the top. Isn’t that right?’
‘Family’s family, whether the old man’s a slave driver or a waster. The position isn’t something an outsider on transfer can ever hope to fill.’
‘They’ll get used to it in a month. In two, they’ll have adapted completely. That’s how it works with personnel – no exceptions.’
‘So self-important. All you ever manage is to shuffle people irresponsibly between rooms.’
‘You’re a perfect example, Mikami.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘You stood your own against the press. Right before the captain’s office.’
Mikami caught his breath.
‘A fine member of the Secretariat, in anyone’s eyes.’
Mikami clenched down on his back teeth. Blood seeped visibly into his bandage.
‘You say that one more time.’
‘Don’t take it the wrong way. I meant it as a compliment.’
‘Say it to my face. Come here, Akama’s office, right now.’
‘I guess that part of you never changes, Mikami.’
Had he laughed?
‘You need to face up to reality. We’re not in the dojo of the kendo club any more.’
52
Diluted, the whisky tasted like water. Even on the rocks it tasted like water. Inebriation failed to come.
The Tsukinami, a small bar built into the front of a residential building, managed by a married couple in their sixties. It was one of Mikami’s few genuine hideaways, unknown by either Criminal Investigations or Administrative Affairs. He’d come to know it after the owner had delivered a stray dog to Mikami’s koban. He’d been coming back for twenty-five years. The mama-san was as unyielding as a boar, while her husband was the kind to say whatever popped into his head. The result was that they were continually, both then and now, bickering behind the counter. For Mikami, whose habit it was to sit at the far side of the counter, their interaction was a source of both irritation and envy.
He’d forgotten who he was; he’d forgotten his family. He had taken the opportunity of Akama’s absence to force his way into the captain’s office. That alone was grounds enough for a transfer. He’d knocked Chief Ishii to the floor, broken property belonging to the Secretariat. If he hadn’t injured himself, if he hadn’t been bleeding, and if Ishii had been any less a coward, he knew he would right now be filling in a long report in some basement part of Internal Affairs. If he’d been thinking of his family at all, he should have warned Akama about Criminal Investigations’ trap. He’d even had the option of playing both sides, of pretending to take Arakida’s proposal on board. Even given that the chances of it actually happening were slim, he should have taken out the insurance of the job at Central Station, in case Criminal Investigations ended up victorious. There, he could get by without having to move away. He could be with Minako as they waited for their daughter to come back.
The ice clinked, shifting in his glass.
He’d put up with everything so far. And all for his family . . .
No. That wasn’t it. He’d used them as a shield. He’d been selfish. He’d made sacrifices each time his place in the force had come under threat, and he’d always blamed his family. The truth was clear enough. He could keep going without a family, but he’d fall apart if he lost his place in the force. Unless he first recognized that, accepted that was who he was, he’d never be able to find his true place in the world.
Mikami’s phone was vibrating in his jacket pocket. It might have been doing so the whole time.
A number of faces came forward, but the call was from none of them. It was Assistant Chief Itokawa of Second Division, sounding harried. Forgoing preamble, he launched straight into talking about the bid-rigging charges. He told Mikami that they had substantiated the charges against the CEO of Hakkaku Construction – who had been in for voluntary questioning – and issued a warrant for his arrest, but that the CEO had started coughing up blood before they could process the arrest and had been checked into hospital. At first Mikami wondered why Itokawa was volunteering inside information, but the reason was coming next. The Yomiuri and the Sankei had somehow managed to get word of the warrant and had called in to notify their intention of covering the story. Itokawa had begged them to wait, but they hadn’t listened.
‘Anyway, thought I’d give you some advance warning. It’s going to be chaos tomorrow morning.’