Six Four Read Free Page B

earlier in the spring. The only words to enter his mind had been ‘criminal record’.
    Akama had gone on to lay out the rationale behind the appointment:
    ‘I will not stand back and do nothing while the press continues to chastise us for every mistake we make; they lack integrity, along with any understanding of social justice. It’s as though their only goal is to undermine our authority. We’ve been soft, and now they seek to abuse our trust. That’s why we need someone like you, Mikami. A tough press director, someone fierce, someone ready and able to stare them down.’
    Mikami had found it hard to accept these words. The police had a tough-guy culture and placed a premium on strength, meaning there was no scarcity of fierce-looking men either in Criminal Investigations or outside it. How did Personnel benefit from taking an inspector at the top of his game, one whose head was filled with the strict application of the criminal code, and assigning him to be protective gatekeeper in a role divorced from the force’s original mission?
    Akama had spoken of the transfer as though it were an opportunity. It was true that the post was director grade, usually beyond officers of Mikami’s rank, and that it guaranteed his promotion to superintendent. Yet, even if he’d stayed in CriminalInvestigations, Mikami had expected to be promoted in two or three years, and he disliked having the carrot dangled before him when the promotion was in some other area of expertise.
    He had been certain that his ‘criminal record’ had influenced the selection. When multiple candidates were considered for a single position, it was Personnel’s standard policy, as a kind of insurance, to go with the person who had the most experience in the chosen field. So Mikami’s issue hadn’t been with the fact that he’d been chosen, but rather with Criminal Investigations having put him forward in the first place.
    Mikami had steeled himself and visited Arakida, the director of Criminal Investigations, at his home that same evening. ‘The decision’s been made’ was all the director had said. Exactly as he had twenty years earlier. It had felt to Mikami as if the man had simply dismissed his talent for the job. His disappointment and feelings of dejection were made all the worse for the long years he’d devoted to being a detective.
    He was to return to Criminal Investigations in a couple of years. In the meantime, Mikami had taken on the role of press director with a single pledge: to keep his various emotions in check and prevent the rot from setting in. He would
not
repeat his previous mistakes, nor would he let himself become negligent, or squander the time. More than anything else, his long years of hard work had resulted in a physical and mental routine that ensured he couldn’t bear to leave any problem unattended.
    Reforming Media Relations. He knew he had to make this his first task.
    His first move had been to launch an offensive on Criminal Investigations. He needed case information, something he could use as a bargaining chip. In dealing with the press, he understood that raw intel was the only real weapon he had at his disposal. He would confront them armed. He would build a mature relationship where each side kept the other in check. Administrative Affairs would come to interfere less and less, and they couldfinally break free from that three-sided impasse. In this way, Mikami had outlined his schedule for reform.
    The wall which Criminal Investigations – the self-acknowledged bull of the field divisions – had erected to protect itself had been substantial. The same was true of Second Division, Mikami’s home for many years, but it was First Division’s unwillingness to talk that had, he had to admit, been the most formidable. He had taken to making a daily pilgrimage to each of the divisions during lunch, circling the axis of First Division, striking up conversations with managers to get a feel for any investigations