‘You’re working on it?’ Oguro’s chair groaned under the director’s immense weight. He glared at Futawatari, who was stood sharply to attention. ‘What do you mean, you’re working on it?’
‘Osakabe refuses to comment, sir. All that is clear is that he has no intention of changing his mind.’
‘Yes, well, that much is painfully obvious.’
Oguro slammed the business cards he’d been fiddling with down on to the desk. Futawatari caught sight of names representing construction companies next to those of trustees from the foundation. Oguro had summoned them to his office just an hour earlier. Hold a board meeting, a general meeting, whatever. Force him out. Oguro had issued his demands, but the attendees had only bowed their heads in apology. They all feared Osakabe. Just three years ago he had stood as director of Criminal Investigations. He had access to all the information Second Division had gathered during his tenure, information that, in many cases, could be reasonably developed into criminal proceedings. Push him the wrong way and the industry could once again be made a testing ground for investigations into corruption. They had looked terrified.
Division Chief Shirota had been out since noon, making the rounds of the prefecture’s major food-manufacturing companies. He had been tasked with finding a stop-gap position for Kudo, should the worst happen and their attempts to remove Osakabe come to nothing. Consultant – something like that – just for a year. That was his pitch, but the bubble economy was over and it seemed unlikely that the companies would simply acquiesce. Even if he did manage to talk them into it, the press would probably notice the change. They had already covered the background to Kudo’s transfer. Someone would start sniffing around, ask why Kudo had been sent to the food industry rather than his previously agreed-upon role of managing director at the foundation. It would doubtless end in an article that highlighted discord within the force.
‘I want you to fix this,’ Oguro wheezed, as though he were coughing up lead. ‘We have two more days. Threaten him if necessary. Find a weakness. You cling to him like a fucking squid until he gives in.’
‘. . .’
Futawatari understood why it was that Osakabe had to step down. He did not know to whose assessments or referrals it was that he himself owed his current position, but he was under no doubt that he was, at forty-two, a staunch and loyal member of Administrative Affairs. There was more to the force than Criminal Investigations and Public Security. Futawatari had nothing against the other departments per se, but he knew the organisation needed people who could keep them in check, people who could build the organisation’s resilience and ensure it sustained itself through the generations.
That was the mission of Administrative Affairs.
If they stumbled, so, too, would the force. One of the absolute requirements behind the organisation’s ability to maintain a monolithic front was Administrative Affairs’ continual reminder to those sections who dismissed it as a merely clerical function that they, too, were police. And their greatest weapon in this was Personnel. That was why they could not permit the insurrection.
At the same time, Futawatari knew he had no intention of telling Oguro what he’d learned about Megu. Perhaps it was policemen’s honour; he couldn’t be sure. He had a daughter of his own. That would be part of it. And there was his natural desire to resist. Oguro was the very embodiment of the career officer, the kind who considered their own self-interest above everything else. Osakabe was making trouble, but he was family. Oguro – a distant relative at best – had no right to interfere.
This is our concern.
Once Futawatari had been dismissed, his next move was to check in at the retreat. Uehara was busy at his keyboard, his look of misery gone. The captain had approved the redrafted transfer plans and work had now shifted to phase two: the reshuffling of officers ranked assistant inspector and below.
‘Everything’s in order?’
Uehara gave a cheerful nod then frowned when he remembered something. ‘Sir, how is the other issue?’
Show that kind of consideration in battle, and you’ll go far.
With this thought in mind, Futawatari left the building and hurried towards the parking area. He would take Osakabe down.
It would mean stripping the man of his armour and taking hold of his beating heart. But Futawatari had made up his mind, and he had a plan.