“We discussed Jemaah Islamiyah. I told you I had dropped that name to the reporters. Do you remember what you told me?”
Mariko swallowed. “I, uh . . .”
“Go ahead.” His voice seethed with anger. “Say it.”
“I . . . I told you that if you tried to pin this on Islamic extremists, Joko Daishi would use that to destroy our credibility. I said you should take everything else off the table and accuse the Divine Wind outright.”
“So you did. Would you like to tell me ‘I told you so’?”
“No, sir.”
“But you did, neh? You did tell me so.”
There was no safe way to answer that. Fortunately, if there was one thing she’d learned from him, it was that if she didn’t say anything, she wouldn’t have to wait long for him to fill the silence.
He stood up and walked to his enormous floor-to-ceiling windows. With his hands folded behind his back, posed against the dramatic backdrop of the cityscape, he looked more like a prime minister than a police captain. “It’s not yet seven o’clock, and so far this morning I have spoken with the editors in chief of two newspapers and four television news programs. I know these men personally. I’ve been playing golf with one of them for over thirty years. All six of them called to give me fair warning that they would be running exposés on the police cover-up of the Haneda bombing and the false accusation against Islamic extremists. All because someone talked.”
Mariko said nothing.
“There were four of us in that conversation,” said Kusama. “Only four people could have leaked this information about Jemaah Islamiyah to the Yomiuri. Was it you?”
“No, sir.”
“I remind you, these editors are friends of mine. If they press their reporters for sources, someone will talk. If I should find incontrovertible evidence that you were the one who spoke of Jemaah Islamiyah to the press, I will see to it that you’ll never find a job as a policewoman ever again. Or you can tell me the truth right now and I won’t fire you, because I’ll be too busy carrying out my normal duties—namely, protecting the good name of the TMPD. So with that in mind, do you have anything to tell me?”
“No, sir.”
“It was not you who spoke to the press about Jemaah Islamiyah? You’re quite sure?”
“Absolutely, sir.”
“Lieutenant Sakakibara, then.”
“I doubt it, sir. I doubt that very much.”
“As do I. That leaves me and your erstwhile partner—a man who is known for ethical improprieties, as I recall. Which one of us is the leak, Detective?”
There was no safe answer to that one, either. If she accused Han, Kusama would eat him alive. If she accused Kusama, she could expect the same fate herself.
But to Mariko’s mind, he’d offered a false dilemma. “There’s someone else who knows the Divine Wind carried out the attack.”
“Oh? Who, pray tell?”
“Joko Daishi, sir. He also knows what Akahata Daisuke was doing in Korakuen station with a giant barrel of high explosives. He could have leaked everything in these stories himself.”
Kusama began to pace in front of the windows that afforded him his magnificent view of the city. “I see. Once again, the man you accuse is the one you happen to know more about than anyone else in the department. Convenient, isn’t it?”
“Begging your pardon, sir, but I wouldn’t describe four traffic fatalities, twenty-three ricin fatalities, and the hundred and twelve at Haneda as ‘convenient.’”
“But you do want to work the Joko Daishi case, neh?”
“Damn right, sir.”
Kusama grunted and winced. “Perhaps it is your . . . oh, let’s call it enthusiasm for this case that makes you speak to me this way, as if we are teammates on a softball team and not officers of the law. Look at my uniform, Detective Oshiro, and look at yours. You will note there are no jersey numbers.”
Mariko quickly found a knot on his cherrywood desk and resolved to speak to it, not to Kusama. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“Enthusiasm is too forgiving a word to describe your antics. You ignored my orders and you have tied up valuable department resources that could have been used to aid in the Haneda investigation.”
“Sir?”
“Do not be coy with me, Detective. I am well aware of your extracurricular activities. I know all about the hours you’ve wasted watching traffic camera footage.”
Mariko was surprised to feel a great swell of relief. Only now did she realize that she had spent the last few days