Prefecture D: Four Novellas Page 16

  Something didn’t quite fit. It was true that the New Liberal Democratic Club and the New Wave Party shared a common heritage, that they were separated only by the men who stood as their representatives, but why would Ukai go out of his way to share information with a veteran from another faction? He would have known it would stir up a fuss. Unless, of course, that had been his intention. Perhaps Ukai had disseminated the information with the express purpose of rocking the boat.

  But to what end?

  To let us know he has something.

  Advance notice, then, of his intention to strike. Maybe he wanted to stand and watch as the force panicked. To get as much gratification as he could from his revenge.

  There was, of course, another possibility. Negotiations. Ukai was out for something in return and was using the threat as leverage. In this scenario, the advance notice would be a signal for the police to open discussions. Yet Ukai had done nothing to suggest this when Tsuge had seen him the day before. If anything, he’d seemed hell-bent on going ahead with whatever it was he was planning. It could have been nothing more than posturing. Perhaps his intention was to drag things out until the last minute, opening himself to negotiations only once the force had admitted defeat.

  “You could pay his people a visit,” Misaki suggested from his place on the couch.

  “His people?”

  “I’d put money on the chairman of his committee knowing something. Even if he doesn’t, you could use him to apply a little pressure. I doubt even Ukai would do anything that went against the wishes of his committee.”

  It was a good idea. Rather than Tsuge being thanked for writing the question, it was he who ended up bowing in gratitude as he left the room.

  Having returned to the Secretariat to bring Sakaniwa up to speed, Tsuge left the headquarters. It was thirty minutes by car to City K and Ukai’s electoral district. He could still hear Sakaniwa’s words while he was on his way out: Make sure this goes away. The previous night, Sakaniwa had taken it upon himself to reach out to a few of his contacts in the assembly. He’d no doubt been confident in his ability to get an answer, but he’d come away empty-handed. His expression had made it clear he’d reconsidered the severity of the threat.

  Tsuge crossed the city limits.

  He checked his map at each set of lights, then pulled up to a parking area when he reached what he guessed to be the right area. He walked into a shop on the main road selling rice, and the owner confirmed that Haruo Toyama did, indeed, live in the second building around the corner. It wasn’t long, following the man’s instructions, before a sign came into view bearing the words “Electoral Committee for Ichiro Ukai.”

  Toyama seemed to be returning from walking his dog. The man was plump, probably the same age as Ukai.

  “You’re with the police?”

  Toyama frowned when he saw Tsuge’s card. It was perfectly understandable. He’d avoided arrest during the election four years ago, but he would have spent hours sweating under the harsh lights of the interrogation rooms. He continued to look uncertain as he invited Tsuge into the traditionally built house.

  Deciding there was no need for pleasantries, Tsuge got straight to the point. “Assemblyman Ukai has informed us that he intends to ask a question relating to the police during the upcoming question-and-answer session. Do you know about this?”

  “A question relating to the police?”

  “Apparently he has an issue to take up with us.”

  “No. I can’t say that I…” The man’s surprise appeared genuine. He leaned in to ask a question of his own. “What kind of issue?”

  “We don’t know. That’s why I’m here.”

  Toyama was starting to look worried. He requested that Tsuge wait for a moment, then began to call the remaining committee leaders. Questions of Ukai aside, it was clear that this man at least had no wish to repeat his history with the force. After hanging up the final call, Toyama turned back around.

  “Nobody knows a thing about it.”

  “Then could you kindly check with Ukai himself?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll try to catch him this evening.”

  “Call me once you know.” Tsuge left after issuing the request. It felt as though he’d acquired the upper hand. It was clear that Toyama was afraid of the police. That was reassuring. The committee would seek to stop Ukai from using whatever it was he had on the police. He was sure of it. Members of the assembly were nothing without their electorate. Ukai would not go against the will of his committee.

  Tsuge relaxed during the drive back, stopping to have lunch at a family-run restaurant. It was almost two when he got back to the Secretariat. Aiko Toda jumped to her feet the moment he entered the room. Ukai, she said, was in the visitors’ room.

  What?

  Toyama must have been too worked up to wait until evening. And the fact that Ukai was here, in the Secretariat, meant it was likely that the committee’s attempt to reel him in had not gone according to plan. It was an unwelcome thought. Tsuge suddenly felt nauseated.

  He opened the door, forgetting even to knock. He saw Sakaniwa and Ukai, both facing him. He watched as the anger spread across the latter’s features.

  “You—you have the gall to threaten a member of my committee?”

  “Assemblyman, I can assure you that I would never do such a thing. But I have to ask you again. Without us knowing what you intend to ask—”

  “Silence!”

  Sakaniwa snapped upright on the couch.

  “If you do anything like this again, I will lodge an immediate and official complaint with the governor. Do you understand?”

  “Of course…” Sakaniwa yelped an apology, having come to stand next to Tsuge and bowing low enough to expose the back of his neck.

  Tsuge followed suit. Lodging a complaint with the governor. It was the single greatest threat Ukai could make.

  The assemblyman got to his feet, visibly furious. “I will tell you now so there is no room for doubt. I have absolutely no intention of reconsidering my plans.”

  Tsuge and Sakaniwa’s heads stayed down until the door was shut.

  “This is getting out of control,” Sakaniwa said, biting his lip.

  For a moment, the uninteresting contours of the man’s face made him appear weak and unambitious. But Tsuge knew that Sakaniwa was a driven man. Tsuge was the same, and that was what allowed him to see through the man’s exterior to the anger writhing underneath.

  Sakaniwa had been Secretariat chief for three years. He would be up for transfer in the spring. And so, he would be looking for ways to rise above the crowd, to get ahead in the race to the top. His was a post that encouraged people to dream. Should the captain choose, he could reward your talents with a special promotion. Talent wasn’t even a precondition. In the past, the captain had ordered promotions that would have stunned anyone in the force, simply because he’d liked the people in question. Ukai’s question had come at a key moment in the process. It was only to be expected that Sakaniwa would lose his cool.

  “The question. If we at least know the question, we may be able to come up with something to stop him.”

  “Agreed.”

  Although he’d nodded, Tsuge couldn’t think of a single option. Having seen the assemblyman’s rage, it was clear he wouldn’t negotiate. He was out for revenge and his resolve was unwavering. Seeing him again would not convince him otherwise. And Tsuge had already questioned the rest of the assembly members. The electoral committee, too, had proved useless. Even threats had had no effect.

  Unless …

  Perhaps it was just that the threats hadn’t been potent enough. Maybe what they needed was to find something they could pin on Ukai. A weakness. If they could somehow pull the relationship back to even terms, Ukai would have no choice but to step down.

  “Do you know anything we could use against him? We need to threaten him, sir, if we’re going to stop this.”

  Sakaniwa looked at him, clearly taken aback. “Nothing comes to mind
, but I guess I can take a look.”

  It was obvious that he was hesitating. Threaten a member of the assembly? The look in his eyes, the lines on his forehead—everything conveyed his uncertainty.

  He had the ambition but perhaps he lacked the nerve. Tsuge fought an urge to slap him across the face. You’d better fix that if you’re serious about getting to the top. He had no intention of letting Sakaniwa drag him down. Returning to his desk, he wasted no time in punching in the number of Second Division.

  6

  The jazz was a painful din. Night. Tsuge was waiting for his colleague Yoshiyuki Mayuzumi in an old café behind the train station. He’d chosen it not for the music but because he knew the noise would drown out their conversation. The wait was long, perhaps mirroring the distance that had grown between them. I’ll be there if I can. That was what Mayuzumi had said. He was a good man, so the words had lacked bite, but they’d also been devoid of intimacy.

  There had been discussions, eight years ago, of Tsuge joining the NPA. He’d been flagged as a potential candidate for the hybrid track, where assistant inspectors who had outperformed their colleagues in the prefectures were brought in to work alongside the regular career officers in Tokyo. Tsuge had been torn. Should he take up the offer? Should he go to Tokyo? The decision was like having to choose between staying as an ace pitcher in the minor league and transferring to become an usher in the major. Standing next to the concrete viewing pillar, he’d decided, in the end, to stay. To become the ace. He hadn’t attended a social gathering with his contemporaries since. Having turned down his shot at the fast track, he couldn’t stomach the idea of any of them getting ahead of him. And his focus had paid off—he ranked above them all. He was competing now with officers who had joined the force three or even four years before he did.

  The door opened just as he ordered his second coffee.

  “Here!” Tsuge called out, raising a hand. He tried not to cringe at the bounce in Mayuzumi’s step as he came over.

  “Tsuge, it’s been a long time.”

  Tsuge grimaced. The man was too honest. He hadn’t meant it as a jibe, of course, but it clearly wasn’t the way to greet someone who worked in the same building as you every day. Mayuzumi had been in Second Division for a good number of years. His gentle manner belied a man who specialized in the investigation of white-collar crime, including corruption, extortion, and election fraud.

  Ignoring Mayuzumi’s attempts to reminisce about old times, Tsuge cut straight to the chase. “You were part of the investigation into Ukai’s election committee.”

  “Sure. Good days.”

  “Has Ukai been involved in anything untoward?”

  Mayuzumi chuckled. “Of course. That’s how we built the case.”

  “Not that. Has he been involved in anything since?”

  “Tsuge,” Mayuzumi said, then sighed before he continued. “You’ve got to be honest with me if you’re going to ask questions like that. Why would you want something on Ukai?”

  “Because…”

  Tsuge stopped himself there. Over and above any concerns regarding confidentiality, the real issue was that he didn’t want Mayuzumi to see he was in need of help. The noise seemed to move up a notch, insinuating itself into the gap in conversation.

  “You know, there’s something I’ve come to understand,” Mayuzumi began, as though to himself. “You can’t make new friends after thirty. You’ll have colleagues you work closely with, sure, maybe even a few you’ll trust. But they won’t be friends, not really. You’ve got to know each other’s flaws, the messed-up shit. Last chance for that’s in your twenties, when you’re still rough around the edges. Doesn’t count after that.”

  It dawned on Tsuge that this was the reason Mayuzumi had agreed to meet. Back in police school, Tsuge had struggled to learn how to take down an opponent. He’d failed again and again, regardless of how many times he tried. Mayuzumi had shown him how to read the attack. Only then had Tsuge claimed his first success. Unarmed, he’d knocked a man with a dagger to the ground. Mayuzumi had worn a huge grin when Tsuge had, without thinking, reached out to shake him by the hand.

  Tsuge got to his feet.

  “I’m sorry you had to come all this way.”

  “Tsuge, listen—”

  “I want something on Ukai. That’s all.”

  “Fine. Just sit down.” Mayuzumi reached for a nearby pile of napkins. He took one and began to scribble something down. A name. An address. “Talk to him. Maybe he’ll be able to help.”

  “Thanks, I owe you one.”

  “Sure, whatever.”

  Mayuzumi looked up, his eyes full of pity. From Tsuge’s perspective, the eyes belonged to a man already two ranks his junior, one who’d be fetching balls until the day he hung up his uniform. Tsuge took the napkin and the bill and turned around. He needed to get away from the jazz, and from the man’s eyes, which were now trained on his back.

  7

  Tatsuhiko Seshima. Tsuge recognized the name; it belonged to a detective who had worked in Theft.

  He was fifty. A kind, sociable man, and these traits had eventually brought him down when he’d ended up sleeping with the wife of a man he’d sent to prison for larceny. He’d been expelled from the force as a result. Thirteen years had passed since. He’d jumped from one job to another before finally landing himself a role as “strategist” in Ukai’s electoral committee. Many of the political parties were firm believers in the benefits of having someone from the force on the payroll. They saw it as a kind of insurance. Yet the last election had shown just how little protection this afforded. Seshima had lost his job and currently worked as a salesman for an import-car dealer.

  Having learned this much about the man’s background, Tsuge left to pay the man a visit in City I. They’d already spoken on the phone. When he’d told Seshima he wanted to talk about Ukai, the man had invited him to make the trip over.

  His home was nicer than expected. A handsome woman in her forties, perhaps the larcenist’s wife, came in gracefully with a tray of tea. Tsuge realized he was nervous as he sat on the couch, knowing he needed to be cautious. Seshima might have been police once, but he was a civilian now. There was no telling where the information might end up if he let it slip that he was out for something to pin on Ukai.

  “I warned them not to, you know. But Toyama was panicking, kept saying we’d lose the election unless we did something. That’s when they started throwing money around.” Assuming Tsuge was there to discuss the events of the past, Seshima began to give him the lowdown.

  “Ukai knew about the bribes, of course.”

  “Ukai? Not at all. He was kept in the dark about the whole thing.”

  The defensive tone came as a surprise. Seshima had been fired from his role in the committee, so Tsuge had naturally assumed he’d hold a grudge. That didn’t seem to be the case.

  “He might not look it, you know, but the man’s a coward. He was shaking when Second Division came through the door. I was, too, though.” Seshima’s lips approximated a smile, but it fell short of reaching his eyes.

  “I’ll bet he really hates the force.”

  “Ukai? I don’t think so. Now, I can’t comment on what goes on inside that head of his, but I’ve never heard him criticize the police. Not once.”

  “Hmm.”

  There was silence as Tsuge considered this. Seshima muttered something, a name.

  “Who?”

  “Junichi Yamane. I don’t suppose you know what he’s busy with these days? I heard he’d switched to First Division.”

  Of course. Seshima would want to catch up on news regarding his old colleagues in Criminal Investigations. Tsuge decided he would humor him for a while. He didn’t know much about current investigations, nor did he recognize the majority of names the man gave him, but he managed nonetheless to satisfy his curiosity with a few inconsequential snippets of information. Tsuge felt himself relax. At least a part of Seshima still considered himself to be an officer of the
law.

  “There’s something else I’d like to ask, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you know of anything that might compromise Ukai’s position?”

  “Compromise his position?” Seshima looked up.

  “I need to find something I can pin on him. It’s a matter of urgency.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “He’s planning to take revenge, for the election.”

  “No way. He’s too much of a coward to do something like that.”

  “He’s already made his intentions very clear.”

  With this, Seshima’s certainty seemed to waver. He seemed to weigh something before he opened his mouth to speak again.

  “There is, I suppose, a woman…”

  Tsuge’s mind worked hard during the drive back. Kinue Taiyo. Works at a nightclub. Ukai had been involved with the woman for three years, and this despite the fact that his wife had passed away only the year before. Still, it didn’t seem like it was enough. It could still be rationalized as a relationship between two consenting adults. The one sticking point, perhaps, was the fact that the woman was a worker at a nightclub. Even then, it seemed to fall short as a countermeasure, regardless of how he tried to present it.

  There was something else that had caught his attention—Seshima’s assessment of Ukai’s personality. Tsuge’s impression, after half a year of working with the man, was of someone who was difficult but practical. Yet he’d come across as headstrong and obstinate since declaring his intention to attack. And Seshima had described the man as a coward. None of the descriptions seemed to match. It was as though Ukai were in possession of three separate personalities. There was no doubt that he had suffered at the hands of the police. Yet Seshima had argued that the man lacked nerve, that he would never position himself against the Prefectural HQ. The latter, at least, seemed to tally with Tsuge’s own impression. Not once had he seen in Ukai anything to suggest that the man harbored a grudge. And yet he had declared his intention to attack. And now, some four years on from the election.