Yuraku-cho and stopped in at his coffee shop. He sat for a long while over his coffee, immersed in his thoughts. He couldn't understand! It wasn't possible, it couldn't be, he kept saying to himself.
Leaving the coffee shop, he started walking back to his office. At the Hibiya intersection, the red light held him up at the curb for a long moment. A stream of cars passed in front of him. They were of many different makes, he noted, without particular interest. Yet the spectacle, commonplace though it was, suddenly gave him a new thought.
How stupid he had been! Yasuda didn't have to use just one name. He could have made the plane reservations under different names. And he probably didn't appear at the airline office himself: he must have sent a different person each time to make the reservation for him. He could fly to Fukuoka as Mr. A, return to Tokyo the following morning as Mr. B and as Mr. C change to the plane for Sapporo. He had an hour to wait at Haneda Airport during which this could easily be done. How foolish to believe that because Yasuda traveled on all three planes he had used the same name each time. Why hadn't he thought of this before?
Had Mihara been in a less public place he would have struck his head with both fists. He had been very stupid and was ashamed.
The traffic light turned green and he started across. This means that there are at least three false names in the lists, he decided, and all three belong to Yasuda. Good, I'll have all the names checked. We're bound to find that three of them are assumed names, with false addresses.
Mihara started walking briskly. He was smiling to himself. For the first time he could see a clear road ahead.
Mihara reported to the chief upon his return to the office. Kasai agreed to his plan.
'A total of 143, you say?' He was looking at the lists. 'Over one-half live in Tokyo; the rest are in the country. We can have our men check the ones in the city. For the others, we'll ask the local police to investigate.'
He gave the orders at once. The detectives took from the lists the names and addresses of those assigned to them. 'If they have a telephone, either at home or at the office, call them up. Make sure that your man was on that plane.'
After giving the orders, he said to Mihara, 'Even if this investigation succeeds, there is still a major obstacle.'
'You're referring to the passenger list of the ferry, aren't you?' This part of the wall stood firm as a rock. It still blocked his path.
Something like a warning flashed through Mihara's mind. It was strange that in the case of both the planes and the ferry, the passenger list should be the stumbling block. Could the parallel again be an illusion? Was he in danger of being led astray by the apparent similarity? Mihara was so absorbed by the thought that the chief asked, 'What's up?'
Instead of answering Mihara changed the subject. 'What about the other problem?' he asked.
'Ah! A man from the Public Prosecutor's Office called on me yesterday.' Kasai lowered his voice. 'Their investigation of the ministry has run into difficulties. There's no doubt that Sayama's suicide has brought things to a standstill. A man holding the position of assistant section chief is a veteran; he's in full charge of the everyday business of the office. Division chiefs and section chiefs seem to leave all routine matters to these experienced assistants. They don't do this deliberately; what happens is that they themselves simply aren't familiar with the day-to-day affairs of the section. They're too busy climbing the ladder to success. They have no time to learn the office routine. Their assistants, on the other hand, have been handling it for a long time; they know the work thoroughly. They're like experienced craftsmen. But they can't go very far. They have to stand by and watch the younger men, the university graduates with the proper qualifications, get promoted and go past them. Most of them are resigned to this situation. They resent it, of course, but they know that to show their feelings will get them nowhere.'
While he was talking, a detective put a cup of tea on his desk. He took a sip and continued, 'For that reason, if a senior official so much as takes notice of one of them, the man is overjoyed. He sees a ray of hope in a world he had almost given up. He feels that recognition might still be possible. That's why he'll do anything to please the boss. As for those senior officers, it's fine if they recognize the man's competence and take the trouble to encourage him, but if they help him merely to take advantage of him and his work, the poor man is trapped. No matter how able these top officials may be, they have to depend on their assistants. They know they can't make them work just by giving orders, so they try to be kind. The assistants know all this, of course, but in order to keep their jobs, or to get promoted, they do what they're told and cooperate. That's human nature, I suppose. And speaking of human nature, you'll find a lot of interesting examples in those government offices.'
He put his elbows on the desk. 'In this case, everything seems to center on Sayama. He was an able worker. The investigator who came to see me was dismayed by the double suicide. Sayama's death has made the investigation very difficult, brought it practically to a standstill. Because Sayama held in his hands the invisible strings that lead to the top officials. He was the key man in that section. The Prosecutor's Office is deeply disturbed by his death. In the meantime, I suppose the higher-ups are rejoicing at their lucky escape.'
'No doubt Ishida is one of those who are rejoicing.'
'He must be the happiest of the lot. Generally, the assistant chief is the conscientious type who takes the responsibility for the entire ministry and will give his life for it. Whenever there is a big scandal, it is always the man in the subordinate position who commits suicide to cover up for the others.'
'So you think that Sayama's death…'
'In the past they usually died alone. In Sayama's case a woman is involved. This makes it a little different, and perhaps gives it a romantic touch.'
The chief fell silent. Mihara knew well what he was thinking but made no comment. He realized that the Public Prosecutor's Office, the chief of the detective section, and his own superior were on his side. He felt greatly encouraged.
Mihara took the file on Sayama and Otoki and reexamined the reference materials. He read the report of the scene and of the inquest and studied the photographs and the statements of the witnesses. He read every word carefully. The man and the woman had taken cyanide and had died side by side, almost in each other's arms. He had been through all this many times before; he could find nothing new. Yet once again it conjured up the figure of Yasuda, who had gone out of his way to have others witness the departure, together, from Tokyo, of Sayama and Otoki.
Three days later the investigation of the passengers on the three planes was completed. Not a single false name had been found. They were all authentic and borne by known persons.
'Yes, I was on that plane; there is no mistake.' All 143 had answered in similar terms.
It was a great shock to Mihara. He held his head in his hands in an agony of doubt.
12 A Letter from an Old Man
Mr. Kiichi Mihara
Assistant Inspector
2nd Detective Section
Metropolitan Police Board
Tokyo
Dear Mr. Mihara:
Please forgive my long silence. Three months have gone by since I had the privilege of meeting you in Hakata. It was an unexpected pleasure to receive your long letter the other day. I want to thank you for your kindness and apologize for being such a poor correspondent.
When we first met it was early spring and a cold wind was blowing across the Sea of Genkai. Now we have reached the middle of May and it is too hot even to stroll in the sun. Time passes quickly. Our popular Dontaku Festival took place as usual early this month. It was very gay. When this holiday is announced, we say that summer is around the corner. Some day, when you have the time, I hope you will attend our festival.
I see from your letter that you are busy working on a very difficult case. I feel ashamed at my own idleness and at the same time envy you your activity. If only I were younger! It is frustrating to be old and living in such a remote
