.?’
Amamiya had stopped talking. He made no attempt to look Mikami in the face.
‘What I said just now – there is a real chance of this bringing in new leads.’
Silence.
‘The commissioner general is our highest-ranked official. I’m confident the media coverage will be significant. It will be broadcast on TV. The news will reach a great number of people.’
‘I do appreciate the opportunity—’
‘Please, Amamiya-san. To let a chance for new information like this just slip by . . .’
Mikami realized he was raising his voice and broke off. This wasn’t something he could force. The victim was refusing. Wasn’t it his obligation to back down? The family home could be struck from the commissioner’s schedule without necessarily diluting the importance of his visit. It would reduce the overall impact, yes, but it would still work – internally and externally – if the commissioner visited both the scene of the crime and the members of the Six Four Investigative Team.
But . . .
Akama’s profile flashed before his eyes. How would he react if Mikami’s report told him the commissioner’s offer had been refused? Mikami’s pulse throbbed in his temples, punctuating the silence like the ticking of a clock.
‘I have a feeling I’ll be back.’
Amamiya offered no words in response. He put his hands on the tatami and got to his feet, giving only a cursory nod before he disappeared further into the house.
Why turn them down . . .?
Mikami glanced at the business card and rice crackers, untouched and left behind; he massaged his numb legs before raising himself from the floor.
9
The situation had moved on in Mikami’s brief absence.
Members Only: Meeting in Progress.
The cardboard notice had been posted on the door to the Press Room. Suwa was back in the office.
‘What’s that for?’ Mikami motioned his chin towards the corridor. An embarrassed-looking Suwa got to his feet.
‘They’re discussing anonymous reporting again. It sounds like they’re considering a formal written protest.’
Mikami clicked his tongue in irritation.
A written protest.
It would be the first time during his term as press director.
‘And the commissioner’s visit? Were you able to notify them about that?’
‘Mmm . . . I managed to tell them, but they just said they’d discuss it in the meeting. I suspect they’re planning to throw a spanner in the works.’
Mikami thumped into his chair and tore the seal off a fresh pack of cigarettes. It was worse than he’d feared. The outlook regarding the press was clouding over, especially now Yoshio Amamiya had said no to the commissioner’s wish to go and pay his respects to his daughter.
The commissioner general himself. Six Four. He had been certain the press would bite. His head had been sluggish after the conversation with Amamiya, but now he felt a sudden clarity. He focused on a single point on his calendar.
Thursday the 12th
.
He had until then to win over Amamiya and make peace with the press.
‘Anyway, I’m planning to take them out for drinks tonight,’ Suwa remarked. His breezy tone jarred somehow, amplifying the pressure in the air. Mikami had expected Suwa to gain a new lease of life now he was free from the constraints of Mikami’s reforms, but he seemed to be already at an impasse. It didn’t bode well, if that was the case.
Suwa had grown as a Media Relations officer, but he remained a man who thrived best on the front line. He hadn’t abandoned the traditional methods and would spend his time in the Press Room chatting with the reporters to get a feel for their activities and what they expected. He would advertise his easy-going nature by joining them in games of Shogi, Go and Mahjong. He regularly joined them for drinks, sounding off about a few arrogant executives to gain their trust. To these crude but time-honoured tactics he would add his conversational nous and skills as a negotiator, guiding the reporters until – converted to