Lady Joker, Volume 1, Kaoru Takamura [best affordable ebook reader TXT] 📗

this in mind, I expect you all to perform better than ever. The day when your hard work will be rewarded is near.”

It was only by etching the words of the perpetrators into his mind—Ready to make the payment?—that Goda managed to absorb the bromides to “maintain confidentiality” and “perform better than ever.”

Then, Director Miyoshi of Third Violent Crime Investigation, who was in charge of the Search Squad and the Evidence Investigation Squad, announced, “No changes to each squad’s investigation directive for tomorrow,” and the meeting was adjourned. Goda’s instincts, sent into overdrive by the name “Lady Joker” but never finding a place to settle, dispersed into the ether.

After the top brass had left the room, the investigators got up from their seats, still without a word to each other. Goda was leaving the meeting room, thinking to himself that he would hurry home, take a bath, play a little violin, sip some whisky, and read the book he had just started, when Deputy Chief Inspector Dohi loomed before him and whispered, “Chief Inspector wants to see you. Report to Reception.”

Dohi’s gaze rested on Goda for a few seconds, his eyes a stew of wariness, suspicion, curiosity, and resignation. Goda glared right back, struck by a sudden urge to smash the face in front of him with a concrete block.

An obscure strain of uneasiness was infiltrating the police force. This was how the machinery worked—that uneasiness created a mood of anxiety, one that at times burst forth as hysteria or neurosis. As they locked eyes, each found in the other a convenient outlet for their unfocused anxiety and discomfort. This time it was Dohi who ultimately backed down, telling Goda to report back to him later, and returning to the third floor. Goda descended the same staircase and, one minute later, he was knocking on the door to the reception room at the back of Police Affairs on the first floor.

When Goda walked in, Hidetsugu Kanzaki was standing alone in the middle of the room. After giving Goda’s full frame the once-over from his elevated sightline, Kanzaki said, “You’ve shrunk a size since you were at MPD.”

Goda, caught off guard, replied, “I’ve lost some muscle.”

“That won’t do. But I think your physique is appropriate for this purpose, meaning you won’t intimidate those around you. Goda-san, this is short notice, but starting Monday the eighth, I need you to guard Mr. Shiroyama.”

“Yes, sir,” Goda replied automatically, though there was no need to think about what he had just agreed to do. The word “no” did not exist in the police force—“yes” was the only possible response.

“Hinode and the president himself have given their consent on the premise that we need to be prepared in the case of any danger. However, we hope to do so in a way that does not interfere with the daily operations of the corporation, so ostensibly you’ll look the part of a body man.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ll be on duty from the morning, when the president leaves his home, until he returns there at night. You will not enter the president’s office or attend meetings, informal conversations, or entertainment gatherings—you will always stand right outside the door. You will be issued a Hinode employee badge and a pass with a photo ID. You’ll use an alias. You are always to be diagonally behind Mr. Shiroyama, one meter away, and conversation is strictly prohibited. This is as per the president’s request.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mr. Shiroyama requested that we provide him with a detective from the local precinct, not MPD.”

“Yes, sir.”

Whenever Kanzaki appeared before investigators, he rarely moved his eyes or the muscles in his face—he was a wall come to life. The wall was equipped with a mouth, and though orders could be heard issuing from it, there was no way to glimpse what was on the other side. No, it was normal for those on the lower rungs of the police organization not to even imagine the workings behind the wall.

“Incidentally, your mission, first and foremost, is to protect the president. Second, to observe the president. Third, to observe what goes on inside the company,” Kanzaki enumerated.

Goda listened intently, realizing that his job was to spy. As yet unable to imagine any concrete reason, he felt a wrench in his bowels, a slight spasmatic twinge. In the beat it took him to respond, Kanzaki’s eyes glinted, and Goda issued a robotic “yes, sir.”

“As I’m sure you’re well aware, with an investigation involving corporate extortion, there tends to be a subtle difference of opinion between the corporation and the police. Even when we point out past cases, the company is always inclined to try to make a backroom deal. We must prevent that from happening at any cost. That’s why you will be there observing things.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Being by the president’s side every day from morning to night will enable you to pick up on hints that there are changes in the situation—actions by internal staff, small shifts in the schedule, impromptu gatherings, who meets with whom, the expressions of the executives, their eyes, how they speak . . . Your most important mission is to detect these things.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your report will be based on Mr. Shiroyama’s activities—you’ll record what you see and hear in full detail, and send it by fax each night to a number designated by SIT.”

“Yes, sir.”

“In any case, we must prevent Hinode from making any kind of backroom deal, no matter what . . .” Kanzaki emphasized each word, watching Goda as if to gauge his reaction. “My opinion is that it will be difficult to arrest this crime group unless we catch them in the act. What do you think, Goda-san? Don’t hold back. Give me your honest assessment of the perpetrators.”

Goda’s internal needle jumped ever so slightly as he replied, “I don’t know.” Until now, he had never been one to care much about self-preservation in his career, but he knew better than to be so unguarded as to disclose his personal opinion when