Shindo’s first step was to visit the crime lab on the fourth floor of the main building.
He requested that Assistant Chief Mizutani test the letter for prints, enquiring at the same time whether it might be possible to deduce the model of word processor from the font. Mizutani had muttered that he’d give it a shot, the sort of clipped response that was typical of officers with a technical background. Shindo was fine with that. The lab was essentially a hive of scientists. They could spend the whole night peering through microscopes, examining each and every character in the letter, yet they would never once show any interest in the meaning contained within it. Theirs was a world far removed from anything as commonplace as gossip.
Next on his list was Forensics.
Tests like these were usually routed through Forensics, so Shindo thought it better to inform Division Chief Mitsuo Morishima that he’d gone straight to the crime lab. Back in his substation days, Shindo had kept an eye out for the man, who’d been a new recruit at the time. He was a coarse man, but he gave a sharp nod at the courtesy, indicating he would probably refrain from poking his nose into it.
It’s too easy to kill a man with a rumour.
Shindo considered this as he headed back downstairs.
The prefecture was scheduled to host a number of major sporting events in the coming spring, each of which warranted a visit from the Imperial Family. In order to avoid any issues with security, the transfer season was to be moved forward. It was probably safe to assume that the groundwork was already underway, even though it was only autumn. If rumours of Sone being involved in an improper relationship were to surface now, at this key time, he’d probably remain inspector until his last day in the force.
Police inspectors are undoubtedly the heroes of fiction. Armed with brains and muscle, they are the face of the organisation, as they occupy the front lines. In many ways the image is accurate, the only difference being that, in real life, inspectors grow old. Those who make the rank at a young age naturally set their sights on becoming superintendent. The transition is necessary for anyone who wishes to approach the inner circle of the force, giving them more troops to lead and affording more opportunities to spearhead real change. It is only after you make superintendent, for example, that executive positions such as captain in district, or division chief in the Prefectural HQ, become available.
And yet, after seventeen years, Sone was still struggling to close the book on his chapter as inspector.
In Prefecture D, promotion to superintendent depended on a mix of performance reviews, interviews and exams. Length of service was also taken into account, meaning the older inspectors were, generally speaking, the first in line for promotion. Yet none of this was set in stone. The executive had the final say in who they moved up, and the number of officers waiting their turn was always greater than the number of posts available. This led to the gradual emergence of people like Sone, who, overtaken by their juniors, might wait ten or even fifteen years and still not hear the ‘call from above’.
There were, of course, those who had been held back for past indiscretions. Yet in the majority of cases there was nothing wrong with the officers themselves. They may not have had the right manager to pull them up. They may have had the right skillset but lacked ambition. Been unlucky enough to have a group of exceptional officers below them. Luck could play a significant role. Sure, Sone had been criticised for his failings as a leader, but a quick look around revealed superintendents who were no different. And he didn’t even scratch the surface when it came to currying favour to get ahead. There were superintendents now lounging in key positions who were completely without shame in that regard.
All things being equal, inspectors constituted a group which had already navigated their way through a number of exams and declared their intention to aim for the top. It wasn’t easy, should your path to superintendent be delayed, to take a step back and argue the case for spending the rest of your career in the field. All that remained for those stuck in their position was a slow, creeping anxiety.
There were calls for the prefecture to introduce, over the next couple of years, a written exam for officers trying for superintendent. Yet even this would be of little help to the veteran inspectors. If anything, it threatened to worsen their situation. Immersed in the daily grind, they would have spent close to a decade away from exams. They would find it hard to summon the energy needed to outperform their younger peers, all of whom were capable and ambitious in their race up the ladder.
That left the upcoming spring. The next round of transfers would be Sone’s last chance for promotion before the deployment of the new exam. He would be waiting with bated breath, hoping for the call from above. It would perhaps be a miracle, considering he’d never even held a vice-captain’s post in district. Still, it wasn’t unheard of for Personnel to grant a promotion out of charity. The man still had a greater-than-zero chance of making it.
But someone was trying to reduce even that to nothing. Maybe someone he had worked with, someone who held a grudge of some kind.
Shindo’s hand shot to his abdomen. Ever since he’d lost half his stomach, the remainder had taken to expressing his anger.
If you’re going to hang someone, at least do it to someone more deserving. Someone with more clout.
It was true that Sone lacked what it took to lead. That he wasn’t, perhaps, a natural fit for a role in management. Yet the man Shindo knew had never looked down on others. He’d always been the first to arrive at work and the last still hunched over his desk at night. He’d never sought to gain from his status as an officer of the law. Shindo remembered a time when Sone had spent hours listening to a woman talk about her runaway son, all the while interjecting his signature hmm, hmm, hmm. Shindo was struck by a thought. Wasn’t Sone, in that image, the very embodiment of a decent and hard-working member of the force?
Despite this, the informant was mocking him. Sneering, even as Sone waited, anxiously praying for his last shot at promotion, humming his tune in the dark.
It was, of course, possible that Sone had become involved with the mama-san, that Shindo’s impression was wide of the mark. It was possible that Sone had long ago abandoned any hope of promotion, that he’d lost sight of his former integrity. The man worked for Public Safety, too, which looked after the licensing of bars and other such venues. He would have contacts. What if he’d sought to take advantage of his status as chief to make a move?
Shindo left the main building.
He headed down the city road and walked into the Prefecture D Mutual Funds Association, which was located alongside the headquarters. As an affiliated organisation, many of the senior positions were occupied by officers who’d retired from the force. Shindo bowed to familiar faces as he requested an off-the-record appraisal of Sone’s accounts. If the claims were true, he would need money.
Nothing came up.
Sone had taken out a single loan of one million yen to help finance the purchase of a car. That was three years ago, and it had already been repaid in full. The man’s finances were clean. Still, there was no shortage of alternatives for securing money, particularly if your preference was for secrecy. The fact that Sone had a clean record with the association did not in itself prove that all was in order. Nonetheless, Shindo breathed a sigh of relief. If anything had been flagged at this stage, he would have had no choice but to consider more seriously the possibility of Sone’s guilt.
There was a note on his desk when he got back to Internal Affairs. He waited until Katsumata was out then put in a call to the crime lab.
‘No prints.’
Mizutani’s clinical tone was all the more jarring over the phone, but Shindo was not disappointed to hear the result. It was what he had expected. Shindo thanked him and requested that he call again if they managed to work out the model of the word processor. He hung up.
That leaves tonight.
Shindo opened the commendations file. At the same time, he considered his assets in Station Q. Who should I use? Sorting through his options, he winced a little as the word ‘spies’ flashed into his mind.