Six Four (21 page)

The internal line started to ring in the corridor. When it had been set up, they’d added a long cord so Mikami could carry it into the bedroom or the living room. Mikami took the receiver in his hand, Chief Ishii and Suwa taking up equal space in his mind.

‘Sorry to call at the weekend.’ It was Assistant Chief Itokawa from Second Division. His voice across the line was muffled. ‘The article in the paper this morning, was that you?’

He had to be referring to the scoop in the
Toyo
and the
Times.

‘Nope.’ Mikami heard a forced sigh in his ear. ‘Have they come looking yet?’

‘Four of the papers just came by; I’ve had another five on the phone.’

‘Were they angry?’

‘Yeah, frustrated, all of them.’

‘What about the boss?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Arakida, has he called yet?’

‘Not yet.’

Nothing from Arakida, who was usually on edge whenever the papers had a scoop. Mikami could assume that meant his mind was on other things.

‘Anyway, Mikami . . .’ Itokawa began to sound hesitant. ‘About our conversation, in the interrogation room. You never heard me say any—’

‘Sure,’ Mikami cut him off. ‘I didn’t get anything from you. I don’t know anything, therefore, I can’t leak anything. Okay?’

Mikami made a quick call to Suwa, then left the house by car. He’d decided to pay Takeshi Tsuchigane an unannounced visit. Tsuchigane was one year Mikami’s senior, and had been acting sub-leader of the Six Four investigation since spring the previous year. They had never got along, but neither did they dislike each other. And Tsuchigane was living in a home that had belonged to his grandparents; as long as the ban on communicating with Administrative Affairs remained in effect it was a risk to visit any of the detectives who lived in police dormitories, surrounded as they were by colleagues.

The roads were quiet. It didn’t take long for Mikami to reach his destination, the residential district of Midoriyama. Keeping an eye on the house numbers, he navigated through a couple of corners before catching sight of his target washing his car outside the front of his house, his back to Mikami. He turned around, looking like a man enjoying his day off, but his expression reverted to the familiar downcast one the moment he realized it was Mikami in the driver’s seat.

‘Long time no see,’ Mikami called out from the car window.

Tsuchigane’s eyes drifted down to the tip of his hose. ‘It’s just as you see Mikami – I’m out here, washing my car in the freezing cold so I can take my wife to the department store to pick out some year-end holiday gifts.’

He was saying he wanted to be left alone. Quite apart from their intended meaning, the man’s words drove home to Mikami
just how much the case had faded into the background. A two-day weekend. Even for the team working on Six Four, it was no longer the exception.

Mikami got out of the car and held up the box of udon he’d bought on the way. He knew the tradition between detectives: you couldn’t turn someone down once they’d brought you a gift.

Begrudgingly, Tsuchigane showed Mikami through to his Western-style reception room. They sat facing each other on cotton couches. Mikami started to talk, acting like they were both detectives. Despite Mikami’s efforts, however, it was clear from the way Tsuchigane continued to avoid eye contact that the Iron Curtain was in place between them.

‘I’m sorry to barge in like this, on your day off.’ Mikami started by making a respectful bow of his head. Tsuchigane was ranked Police Inspector. This made Mikami the senior officer on paper but, once set, the relationship between two detectives never changed.

‘I’m here because I have something to ask you. It’s about Six Four.’

‘Go on, then.’

‘Yoshio Amamiya. Did something happen between him and us?’

The look on Tsuchigane’s face changed.

‘You went to see him?’

‘That’s right.’

‘When?’

‘Two days ago. Caught me off guard, I have to say. He’s really turned against us.’

‘And . . .?’

‘I wanted to ask what caused him to change like that?’

‘Couldn’t say.’

‘I seriously doubt that. You’re sub-chief of the Six Four Investigative Team.’

‘Look – I can’t tell you what I don’t know.’

Until this point, Mikami had been trying to test the limits of
the gag order. He paused before launching into his first real question.

‘What the hell’s up with Criminal Investigations?’

‘Nothing’s up,’ Tsuchigane replied, becoming testy.

‘Okay, can we be honest here? Just tell me why Criminal Investigations has decided to shut out the whole of Admin?’

‘What about you? What were you doing, anyway, going to see Amamiya like that?’

‘That came from Tokyo. The commissioner wants to visit Amamiya in person, pay his respects. It’s my responsibility to get everything in order.’

‘Huh, the commissioner?’

‘Don’t pretend you don’t know. Seems pretty safe to assume the two things are related.’

‘Like I said, I don’t know anything. Go and ask Arakida if you really want to know.’

‘Right. Seems he imposed the gag order?’

Tsuchigane gave a quick nod of his head. ‘Exactly, so you’ve got no reason to hound us underlings. Leave me alone.’

‘Sub-chief, are you telling me you’re an underling?’

Mikami hadn’t meant to provoke him, but Tsuchigane snapped all the same.

‘What if I am? Anyway, why bother asking? It’s obvious Arakida’s blown a fuse because you guys have been poking around in things.’

Poking around in things.
Mikami shuddered, again seeing an image of Futawatari.

‘Just calm down a second. What do you mean, “you guys”? You’re including me in all this?’

‘You’d deny it?
It’s my responsibility to get everything in order.
Well, that’s a fucking joke. Didn’t you think you should come through us first, if you wanted to talk to Amamiya? But no, you do it in the bloody dark . . .’

‘Why do you think I came to see what you had to say?’

‘To make a mess of my weekend, no doubt. Shouldn’t you be out buying some holiday gifts yourself? Isn’t brown-nosing your seniors the best way to get ahead in Admin?’

Tsuchigane was taking every opportunity to stop this being a conversation between two detectives.

‘Stop changing the subject. And look, I seriously doubt the gag order was imposed because I went to see Amamiya.’

‘Maybe not, but you’re not the only one working for Akama.’

‘Futawatari came to see you?’

‘Why the hell would he do that? You’re here, aren’t you?’

‘Unrelated. I don’t know what he’s up to.’

‘And you expect me to believe that?’

‘So . . . he didn’t come to see you?’

‘Not to see me. But my staff keep sending things up the chain. He’s been asking around the rest of my staff – right down to the new recruits.’

‘Down to the new recruits . . .’

‘Don’t act so fucking surprised. You Admin bastards, are you really so glad Amamiya’s severed all connections?’

Severed all connections?

Mikami only just managed to keep his surprise from showing. So it was more than merely a falling-out. Tsuchigane had just told him the relationship had completely broken down.

‘So what’s the next move? Report in to the boss? Sure. Do it. No skin off my bloody nose.’

‘Was that what Arakida told you?’

‘What?’

‘
Akama’s minions are sniffing into Six Four. He wants to get the press to cover the break with Amamiya. Keep your mouths shut around Admin.
Is that it? Is that what he told you?’

‘What else could it be? You tell me if you bloody know.’

Tsuchigane looked genuinely interested. He was speculating, that was all. It had been the same with Itokawa back in Second
Division – he hadn’t been let in on the background to Arakida’s imposition of the gag order either.

‘So all connections were severed?’

‘Huh?’

‘Us and Amamiya.’

‘Still pretending you don’t know . . . Wasn’t that why you went to see him, to get to the bottom of it?’

‘Why did things get so bad?’

‘There isn’t any bloody reason. It’s just time. Atrophy, whatever. Just you wait – if we catch the kidnapper, he’ll be here thanking us, all teary-eyed.’

Because they hadn’t found the kidnapper. Mikami acknowledged that had to be one of the reasons. But was it the only one?

‘You brought Motoko Yoshida in for questioning, in the beginning.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘I heard she’d had a bad time of it, that Amamiya took her under his wing afterwards.’

Tsuchigane clicked his tongue, his mouth contorting.

‘You were a detective, for god’s sake. You’d have treated her as a potential accomplice, too, if you’d heard she’d answered a call from the kidnapper in the office.’

‘No need to emphasize the past tense, please.

‘Oh, really? Yeah, well, maybe if you stopped grilling a fellow fucking detective . . .’

‘So there’s a chance he came to bear a grudge because of the questioning.’

‘See, you’re losing your touch over there in Admin.’

‘Losing my touch? What are you—’

‘Just listen. Amamiya wasn’t in love with Motoko Yoshida. He loved Shoko, his one and only daughter. He treasured her. And she was kidnapped, murdered. I can tell you right now – the only person he didn’t consider a suspect back then was his own fucking wife.’

Mikami recognized the intensely charged air of fieldwork.

‘You know that’s probably true even now. They’re all suspects in Amamiya’s eyes. Everyone – from the workers at his factory to his kid brother.’

Mikami nodded gravely. No detective, present or past, could get away with not doing so.

Nothing had happened other than the kidnapper being still at large. With the passage of time, the relationship between Amamiya and the Investigative Team had simply faded to nothing. It had to be true; this was coming from the sub-chief of the team itself, someone who had stuck with the case from the very beginning. And yet . . .

There was no guarantee that Futawatari shared his opinion.

‘I’m sorry I took up your time.’ Mikami got to his feet, then acted as if he’d remembered something. ‘Reminds me – Koda, from the Home Unit. I heard he left the force?’

Tsuchigane looked instantly wary. ‘Right. That was a long time ago.’

‘Do you know what happened to his memo?’

‘What bloody memo?’

‘You know, the Koda memo.’

‘That’s the one thing I want to ask
you
. What the hell is this Koda memo thing?’ Tsuchigane’s expression made it clear he genuinely didn’t know. One of the officers on his team had reported it to him; that had been the first time he’d heard of it.

‘I don’t know either.’

‘You lying bastard, you set me up.’

‘The thing is, nobody seems to know where he is.’

‘It’s not that rare for someone who’s left the force to end up drifting.’

‘Are there any leads at all?’

‘I don’t know any.’

‘Okay. Well, see you again.’

Mikami bowed. Tsuchigane frowned and took a step closer. Mikami had suspected he might.

‘Go to the source. You find out what this Koda memo thing is, and come and tell me. If you do that, I’ll put in a good word with Arakida.’

Their eyes met.

‘I’ll do what I can.’

‘Come on, you can do better than that. I doubt you plan to run errands for the first floor until the day you retire.’

I need to go higher.

Mikami would approach First Division Chief Katsutoshi Matsuoka. His hands were digging into the steering wheel. He had learned enough to know that he was on the verge of something big. It fitted perfectly with everything Mochizuki had said back in the plastic greenhouse.

It was Administrative Affairs that had set out on the offensive. On orders from Akama, Futawatari was digging around Criminal Investigation’s weak spots. His sights were set on Six Four. In his hands, he held a card called the Koda memo.

But what was it?

Mikami had surmised from Tsuchigane that Amamiya’s split with the Six Four Investigative Team was no longer strictly confidential. It was no doubt far from ideal as far as the department was concerned, but Tsuchigane had all but said they’d given up trying to patch the relationship together a long time ago. They had decided there was nothing they could do to stop Administrative Affairs from finding out – if anything, they were showing signs of taking a belligerent ‘what of it?’ stance.

Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, Mikami lit a cigarette.

The fact that the relationship had failed wasn’t the real issue; no, the root problem lay in whatever it was that had
caused
the split. Mikami was increasingly sure of it. The relationship hadn’t simply come to an end – Amamiya himself had made the
conscious decision to end it. And yet Tsuchigane had flatly denied the existence of any problem. Mikami hadn’t sensed that he was lying or trying to throw him off.

Unless . . .

They’d kept Tsuchigane out of the loop
. The idea had already taken shape in Mikami’s mind.
Something at the highest levels of confidentiality
. If that was what it was, it was possible. If something existed that was so potentially explosive they’d seen fit to block the information from the sub-chief of the Six Four Investigation Team, and if the Koda memo was at the core of that something, then the Iron Curtain policy – which had seemed reckless before – began to assume an air of necessity. One big secret. Something only a handful of high-ranking officials were privy to. That was why Arakida had obscured his reasons for imposing the gag order not only from the lower ranks but even from the Six Four team.

The executive block came into view up ahead.

Matsuoka would talk.
He’ll talk to me.
Mikami willed it to be true. A long time ago, he’d worked two years under Matsuoka in the Criminal Investigations Division of one of the district stations. Matsuoka respected his skill on the job and his qualities as an individual. He’d invited Mikami to become part of the Close Pursuit Unit he’d led during the Six Four kidnapping. If it was true for anyone, Mikami was confident Matsuoka wouldn’t mistake him for a stooge for Administrative Affairs.