Six Four (36 page)

‘It was easy to see, watching from the sidelines, that she received special treatment. When I was feeling uncharitable, I would suspect it was all an act, that she was just
pretending
not to notice the effect she had on people. It wasn’t until I heard the two of you were getting married that I was able to feel a genuine affection for her. I couldn’t believe it when she told me. Actually asked if she was pulling my leg. Ah, don’t take it the wrong way, I’m not trying to imply she undersold herself or anything. You were a young detective with a bright future, and don’t forget I also knew why she’d given you the charm. That’s how it was, anyway. It was a decisive moment. Everyone relaxed around her when they learned she was taken, and by you. Everyone’s opinion of
you
– well, that went down the drain. They were all,
Look at him, head over heels in love – he’d never looked at anything but case work.
’

Mikami snorted.

He had relaxed into the story. He’d stopped wondering about the reason for Mizuki’s diversion, and had been listening to her discuss Minako’s difficult situation, and her own speculation as to what had caused it, as though he were skimming over an unpleasant scene in one of his favourite children’s stories. He felt a pleasant fatigue and warmth in his chest. Mizuki’s reflections on the past had taken the edge off his mood. If he’d looked up and seen anyone else, anyone other than the man who was approaching, he would have stayed on the phone and continued to listen to his good friend.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘We’ll have to talk later.’

He snapped the phone shut, pulled the key from the engine and opened the car door, the whole time keeping his eyes fixed on Futawatari.

Two pieces on the same board. The coincidence no longer came as a surprise.

The same seemed true for Futawatari. He continued down the house-lined street, drawing closer without a single alteration in his expression or pace. He was dressed in a suit, as usual. Did he have business with Akama? Or had he just emerged from another building? He’d been closest to the houses where Captain Tsujiuchi and Director Arakida lived when Mikami had first noticed him. It made sense if he’d been here visiting the captain. Akama hadn’t heard of the Koda memo. That meant the chances were good that Futawatari was operating under the direct orders of the captain himself.

Mikami stood waiting outside his car. When Futawatari was close enough, he called out to him.

‘Akama’s out if you’re after him.’

Futawatari continued to approach in silence. Now he was closer, Mikami could make out the severe expression on his face. He seemed to be avoiding eye contact, but not by much.

‘Working hard, I see,’ Mikami said, looking him square in the face.

‘You, too,’ Futawatari replied, walking straight by and keeping his eyes ahead.

You bastard . . .

Mikami spun around and started after him. He followed Futawatari’s wispy frame from behind, moving slightly to the side,
and caught up with him at the far end of the wall outside Akama’s house. At the intersection, Futawatari turned towards a smaller road. His dark-blue sedan was visible in the distance, parked ahead on a wider section.

‘Confidential discussions with the captain?’ Futawatari didn’t answer. ‘Right, the silent treatment. That’s cold even for you.’

‘I don’t have the time.’

Mikami could see he actually meant it.

‘I found out what’s in the Koda memo.’

He’d said it to freeze Futawatari in his tracks. It didn’t work. His steps shortened as he pulled his keys from his pocket and pushed the button, unlocking his car.

‘What do you intend to do to Criminal Investigations?’

Still mute, Futawatari reached towards the driver-side door.

‘Look, just wait.’ Mikami lowered his voice, putting himself between Futawatari and the car.

‘Didn’t I just tell you I don’t have the time?’

Futawatari glared at him. Mikami glowered back.

‘Neither do I.’

‘Go and do what you need to do, then.’

‘What is the commissioner planning to say?’

‘It doesn’t concern you.’

‘I think it does. Don’t think I’m going to play a role in taking down Criminal Investigations without knowing the reason first.’

‘As if it matters.’

Mikami was dumbstruck.
As if it matters
. Had he heard correctly? He let his voice drop to a whisper.

‘Listen to me. The Koda memo is a veritable Pandora’s box. That thing’s capable of destroying the entire headquarters, not just Criminal Investigations.’

‘What if it does?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Get
out
of my way,’ Futawatari snarled, reaching again for the door.

Mikami took him by the wrist.

‘Is it your plan to sell us out to Tokyo?’

His hand was knocked away with surprising violence.

‘Don’t be so narrow-minded. There are no distinctions; no headquarters, no Tokyo. The police force is monolithic.’

Futawatari took his opportunity. He shoved Mikami out of the way. His lanky frame slid into the driver’s seat; he keyed the ignition.
Wait
. Mikami’s cry was lost against the noise of sudden acceleration. Mikami started walking then broke into a run. He got into his car and pulled out. The road Futawatari had headed for was littered with traffic lights. He could still catch him.

He couldn’t ignore what Futawatari had just said.

The police force is monolithic.

Mikami made a sharp turn to rejoin the main road. His eyes were focused directly ahead.
There
. Futawatari’s dark-blue sedan was stuck at a red, two sets of lights ahead.

Mikami had already guessed that his interests weren’t going to be compatible with Futawatari’s. But he’d hoped, regardless. He’d hoped that they were both torn between their allegiances, single bodies with two minds, existing in a world where hierarchy was everything; that the man’s conflicted state would come to the surface if he challenged him face to face; that Futawatari might finally drop his mask of indifference.

But he’d been wrong.

Mikami hit the accelerator the moment the lights turned green. He pulled ahead of the small yellow car to his side and crossed into the right-hand lane; he accelerated past a truck then slid back to the left. The dark-blue sedan was ten cars ahead. The sky was already growing dark.
Perfect
. Mikami pulled the sun visor close to his eyes, then used one hand to remove his tie. Spying an opportunity, he passed the next car in front. The road was full of Sunday drivers. They were either driving far too slowly or jumping mindlessly around, forcing him to concentrate. He repeated the cycle of accelerating, decelerating. The sedan was only four
cars ahead now. He settled into the standard routine for close pursuit.

What kind of police officer lets himself be tailed?

Mikami pulled at the wheel, abruptly switching lanes. The back of Futawatari’s head was visible through the sedan’s rear window.
Something urgent
. Where was he going? Who was he hoping to see? Mikami would follow him until he stopped, back him into a corner, force him to confess his true intentions.

The sedan took a left at the next junction, entering an older road that followed the river. The road narrowed to a single lane on each side. Mikami maintained his tail, keeping two cars between them. There were no more buildings outside the window, just a flood plain stretching off to the left. The road snaked through a gentle curve as it followed the river. At each bend the two cars ahead would slide momentarily to one side, giving Mikami a clear view of the sedan’s rear lights.

The station wagon just ahead started to brake. At the front, Futawatari was slowing down. His indicators flashed to turn right. He taxied to let an oncoming car pass, then left the road at a crossroad intersection.

Mikami followed after him, turning slowly so as not to give himself away. He saw the sedan take a left at the next junction, into a quiet, old-fashioned residential district. Mikami finally realized where Futawatari was going. Instead of a destination, the name of a man Mikami knew lived nearby came into his head.

But that’s . . .

Mikami edged forwards, not daring to breathe. He glanced down the street the sedan had entered. His eyes registered the shock first. The car was parked next to a hedgerow of red photinia. Outside the house of Michio Osakabe.

Futawatari’s thin profile vanished through the door.

The hazy winter sun was getting ready to set.

Having decided to wait, Mikami circled around to park at a sports complex down towards the flood plain. He kept his eyes glued to the road. He intended to keep watch until Futawatari was gone.

He tried to map Futawatari’s movements in his head. When he’d seen him near Akama’s house, he’d felt sure he’d been there to see Tsujiuchi, but maybe the truth was that he’d emerged from Arakida’s house across the road. That would mean he’d been there to launch an attack on the enemy camp. Arakida had then turned him away, and he’d decided he would extend his reach to the department’s alumni – unless he’d somehow got wind that Osakabe had been connected to the cover-up, and decided to make an attempt on the summit.

The line seemed to come together. Still, Osakabe was on a level far above even the other directors. Like the highest executives – albeit in a completely different way – he was, for the people of the Prefectural HQ, someone who existed above the clouds. It was unthinkable under any normal circumstances to barge into his home with the aim of extracting information. Futawatari was on a rampage. Only someone who thought himself above the other sections, part of the elite, would be capable of such a thing. Whatever his thinking, it was safe to assume the proximity of the deadline was forcing Futawatari to become more brazen.

It doesn’t matter; Osakabe won’t listen.

Mikami flicked an eye to the display on the dashboard: 4.40 p.m. Fifteen minutes since Futawatari had entered Osakabe’s home. Just as he was thinking this, Mikami saw the sedan pass in front of him.
There.
Mikami didn’t miss the face, caught briefly in the streetlights. Futawatari’s expression had been grave. He’d have had less than ten minutes to talk. It was no surprise. A man like Osakabe would never play host to Administrative Affairs for long.

Mikami set off towards the director’s house. He would find out what was behind Futawatari’s covert manoeuvring. Osakabe would tell him the real reason for the commissioner’s visit. It seemed likely he would know. He was party to everything that had happened, not just the contents of the Koda memo. Futawatari must have realized this; it was probably why he’d decided to visit him in person.

Mikami was in the middle of the right turn at the intersection when his phone went off in his jacket pocket. He finished the turn, then pulled up to the side of the road. It was Ishii. Mikami swore under his breath, then pressed answer.

‘What do you think you’re doing, Mikami?’ Mikami had never heard him sound so agitated.

‘Sorry?’

‘Don’t pretend you don’t know. I just had a call from Director Akama. He said you’d already fixed things with Amamiya?’

Mikami realized he’d forgotten to report in after his encounter with Futawatari.

‘Sorry, a lot of things were going on.’

‘But you managed to report to Akama? What possessed you to go over my head on this? You should have called me first . . . How do you think this looks for me, having to admit I didn’t know?’

‘I’ll be more careful in the future,’ Mikami said, making it clear he was ending the conversation, but the message didn’t seem to get through.

‘You wanted to take the credit directly, I assume? I don’t know how you do things over in Criminal Investigations, but that kind of behaviour just isn’t acceptable here.’

The words just washed over him. Ishii wasn’t even on the same board.

‘There is no Criminal Investigations, no Administrative Affairs.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘I’ll make sure I’m more careful in the future,’ Mikami repeated, and ended the call.

As if it matters
, he muttered to himself. He flicked on his headlights and pulled back on to the road. He turned the first corner and the car’s beam fell on the vivid red of the photinia. He parked where Futawatari’s car had been and walked briskly up to the front door. He felt himself tense when he saw the name on the plate.
Osakabe
. His throat dried up. He hadn’t phoned ahead. He hadn’t even worked for Osakabe, not directly. On any other day, he wouldn’t have been able to push the buzzer. But this wasn’t any other day, not for the Prefectural HQ. And Osakabe had admitted a man who had no knowledge outside of Administrative Affairs – he wouldn’t turn away someone with years of experience as a detective. Mikami worked up his courage, then pushed the buzzer.

It felt like a long wait. The door finally opened to reveal the face of an elegant old woman, her white hair neatly plaited. It was the first time Mikami had seen Osakabe’s wife.

He bent forward from the waist, the form of the gesture letting her know he was from the police.

‘Please forgive the sudden intrusion. My name is Mikami. I’m with the police headquarters.’

He held out his card and Osakabe’s wife accepted it in both hands. She showed no signs of surprise at his visit, so soon after Futawatari’s.

‘Press Director Mikami?’

‘That’s right.’

‘May I ask why you’re visiting?’

‘There’s a matter I wanted to discuss with Director Osakabe, if possible.’ Director, even after retirement. That would never change.

‘Of course. If you could give me a moment while I pass on your message.’ She disappeared briefly before emerging again. ‘Please, follow me.’ She gestured for him to enter, then led him along a cool hallway before showing him into the guest room.

Mikami’s legs were as stiff as posts.

‘Sir. Thank you for agreeing to see me,’ he said, intoning clearly. He felt like a newly recruited officer again.