Tsuge tried not to stumble as he scrambled down the underground passage. He raced into the room next to the entrance of the assembly and, gasping for air, scanned the list of questions a second time. He found Ukai’s name. Environmental hormones. Support for Small and Medium Businesses. Two subjects, and nothing to indicate any questions for the police. Was Ukai planning to ask something without telling them first? Something that was potentially explosive? Tsuge couldn’t stop a shiver from running down his spine. He saw an image of the captain, alone in the assembly hall, lost for words. For a man like Tsuge, whose role was to manage relations with the prefectural assembly, it signified nothing less than the end of his career. What could Ukai be planning to ask? And why would he want to attack the Prefectural HQ?
Revenge.
There was a reason for Tsuge’s gut feeling. Ichiro Ukai. Fifty-six. Elected for five straight terms and having served as vice-chairman in the assembly, the man was a key figure in local government. Despite this, his faction had been investigated on charges of bribery during the last election, charges which had resulted in the arrest of fifteen members of his campaign. While the investigation had been instigated by the Office of the District Prosecutor, Second Division had still taken it as a badge of pride to raid, for the first time, the camp of a man as high-standing as Ukai. For Ukai, the number-two man in the conservative factions, the investigation would have been a calamity, and it was hard to imagine the anger and humiliation he must have felt at having his reputation dragged through the mud.
Even so, to actually seek revenge . . .
There was a delicate balance of power between the assembly and the force. While they were outwardly cooperative, each had the strength to keep the other in check, the police by investigative means, the assembly by legislative. Each worked to suppress the other. And while this promoted a certain rivalry, the hoped-for outcome was peaceful cohabitation, just as it was with any nuclear deterrent. What, then, would happen if someone in the assembly chose to act on a personal grudge? The police would retaliate during the next cycle. The assembly would respond by flexing its legislative muscles, launching a counterstrike. The chain of reprisal would continue ad infinitum. Such an arrangement would benefit nobody. It was because this was fully understood that such actions were considered taboo.
But Ukai was planning something nevertheless.
That left the question of scale. What had he managed to lay his hands on? Had he perhaps dug up an illegal flow of funds? Some kind of corruption? Found some dirt he could pin on a member of the executive? It was now Tsuge’s number-one priority to find out what it was. Only then could he enter negotiations with a view to defusing the situation, or, failing that, begin to formulate a viable response.
Tsuge set off for the club room belonging to the New Wave Party. He put his head around the door and looked inside. Ukai didn’t seem to be there. He saw Sakuma, sitting by himself at the back of the room, and hurried over.
‘Assemblyman.’
‘Tsuge.’
At forty, Sakuma was currently in his second year with the assembly. He was modest, despite his formidable intellect. Tsuge took a seat beside him. He already had something he wanted to ask the man, so decided to open with that.
‘Will you be needing anything from the police for your question on the elderly?’
‘Possibly, yes. I was going to ask for some information on suicides. Would that be something—’
‘First Division, Autopsy. They can help with that; they manage the numbers.’
‘Perfect. Do they keep notes on the underlying reasons?’
‘I think so, in most cases. I’ll check on that and get back to you.’ Maintaining his expression, Tsuge lowered his voice. ‘I’m actually looking for Assemblyman Ukai. Do you know if he’s in today?’
‘I haven’t seen him, no, although it’s possible he’s upstairs.’
Tsuge brought his voice down to a whisper. ‘I heard he’s planning to ask something police-related.’
‘Yes, I think I remember him saying something like that.’
‘Do you know what he’s planning to ask?’
‘He said you wouldn’t like it, but, no, he didn’t give me any details.’
So it was true. Ukai had something he was planning to use against the force.
‘I’ll ask if I see him. Can’t have you worrying too much.’
‘Thank you. That would be a great help.’ Tsuge bowed his head and told the man he’d call later that night. He bowed one more time.
Next was the New Liberal Democratic Club. In the case of the assembly, it often happened that the opposition was privy to the same – or more – information as the party in power.
The trip earned him no new knowledge but everyone he approached seemed to know something about Ukai’s intention to launch an offensive.
I’ve got to find Ukai.
The decision wasn’t a hard one. Tsuge had no particular fear of confronting the man. He could be a little difficult, a little obtuse, but Tsuge had no issues with his type. In the course of the last six months Tsuge considered himself to have built a decent enough relationship with the man. Perhaps he’d missed something, or perhaps Ukai was more cunning than he’d thought. It would have to be one of the two, if he truly was planning something.
Tsuge climbed to the second floor and knocked on the door to the assemblyman’s study. There was no answer.
‘Assemblyman?’
Tsuge swallowed then pushed on the door. There was no one inside. A briefcase on the desk, however, told Tsuge the man was somewhere in the building. The door was half closed when something compelled Tsuge to stop. His eyes flicked back to the desk. To the brown and well-worn briefcase. It was open. Papers poked out from the inside.
No . . .
Tsuge had to catch his breath. He closed the door. In that moment, he heard a voice behind him.
‘Can I be of assistance?’
Tsuge flinched as he turned to see Ukai standing in the corridor, looking wary. The small towel in his hands meant he’d been visiting the bathroom.
‘Assemblyman. Sorry, I thought you were in your study.’
Ukai held Tsuge’s gaze, his pin-like eyes sharpening behind black-rimmed glasses. Tsuge felt a rising panic. It was as though the assemblyman could hear the thumping of his heart.
‘Come on, then, if you have something you want to discuss.’
‘Thank you.’
Tsuge followed the man’s broad back in. Ukai gestured at the couch but Tsuge set himself down on a chair instead. Ukai took the briefcase from his desk then sank into the couch. He raised his angled features to his visitor. ‘Well, what can I do for you?’
‘Actually, it’s about the upcoming cabinet meeting.’ Tsuge made eye contact, his gaze faltering slightly. ‘Someone told me you have a question for the police.’
‘That’s right.’
Ukai had admitted it without hesitation. He looked annoyed, but that was the man’s default expression.
‘Could I enquire as to the subject? It would help us to—’
‘Sorry, not this time.’
Tsuge stiffened at the unexpected force of the man’s tone.
‘It would only cause you trouble.’
‘Why?’
‘Because there’s no comeback from this one. Look, the best I can do is suggest you get your captain to brush up on begging for forgiveness.’
Tsuge felt himself shiver. It was clear now – Ukai was looking for revenge.
‘Now, if you’ll excuse me.’ Ukai took his briefcase and went out into the corridor. He pushed the button on the lift across from his study. The doors slid open.
Tsuge rushed in after him, barely making it.
‘Assemblyman. I need to at least know the subject.’
‘Oh, you intend to use the lift?’
Members only. Tsuge was only too aware of the rules.
‘Get out.’
‘. . .’
‘What, you think your job entitles you to this?’
‘Assemblyman. I just—’
‘Leave. Now.’
The doors began to close as Ukai pushed Tsuge out. He watched as the assemblyman – briefcase and all – descended gradually out of sight.