Six Four Read Free

shelf.
    ‘More to the point, Suwa – the press are here?’
    Mikami jerked his chin towards one of the walls. The Press Room was on the other side, housing the Press Club, an informal grouping of thirteen news groups.
    Suwa’s expression darkened again.
    ‘Yes, they’re all in there. They were talking about stringing you up. They’ll be barging in soon enough.’
    Stringing him up? Mikami felt a sudden irritation.
    ‘Oh, and if you could also bear in mind – they think you left because you had a relative in a critical condition.’
    Mikami paused briefly before he nodded.
    The quick-witted spin doctor. That was Suwa to a tee. He was ranked Assistant Inspector, having come up through Administrative Affairs. With three years of experience in Media Relations and another two in the field as a police sergeant, he had already achieved a deep understanding of the modern-day ecology of the press. While his precociousness could be annoying from time to time, his ability to win the reporters over, transitioning seamlessly between the twin roles of diplomat and spin doctor, was genuinely astonishing. Now that he had further polished his skills during his second posting, the department held him in increasingly high regard.
    Mikami’s second posting to the office had been less fortuitous. He was forty-six, and the transfer had come after twenty yearsaway. Until the spring, he had worked as the assistant chief of Second Division; prior to that, he had managed a team in the field, investigating corruption and election fraud as a section chief in Non-violent Crime.
    Mikami stood and turned towards the whiteboard next to his desk.
    Prefecture D, Police Headquarters. Press Release: Thursday, 5 December 2002.
    As press director, his first job of the morning was to run through all announcements to be made to the press.
    The office received a non-stop deluge of calls and faxes reporting accidents and crimes from within the jurisdiction of the prefecture’s nineteen district stations. The recent and widespread adoption of computers meant the same now applied to emails. Mikami’s staff would summarize the reports using a template, then attach copies to whiteboards in the office and the Press Room. At the same time, they would get in touch with the prefecture’s TV news. It was through activities like these that the force helped facilitate press coverage. Despite this, press releases often ended up becoming sources of friction.
    Mikami checked the clock on the wall. It was after eight thirty.
    What were they doing in there?
    ‘Sir, do you have a moment?’ Kuramae had come over to stand in front of Mikami’s desk. His willowy form contrasted with his hefty-sounding name, part of which translated as ‘storehouse’. His tone, as usual, was understated. ‘It’s . . . about the bid-rigging charges.’
    ‘Sure. Did you manage to find out anything?’
    ‘Ah . . .’ Kuramae faltered.
    ‘What is it? The CEO’s refusing to come clean?’
    ‘To be honest, I wasn’t able to—’
    ‘You weren’t able to . . . what?’
    Mikami’s eyes sharpened unconsciously. It was five days since Second Division had made a series of arrests for bid-riggingcharges surrounding a project to build a prefectural art museum. They had raided six mid-tier construction companies and brought eight executives into custody, but the investigation was far from over. Their target was Hakkaku Construction, a regional contractor which they suspected had been behind the process. Mikami had heard whispers that the CEO had been quietly summoned to one of the district stations and that, for the last few days, he had submitted to voluntary questioning. If the police successfully brought in the ringleader, it would be big news for the regional papers.
    It was common in Second Division for statements – and the formal issuing of arrest warrants – to be delayed until late at night. Mikami had sent Kuramae to get an overview of the current situation, with the hope of