Points And Lines

11 The Stubborn Wall

Mihara took the streetcar to Shinjuku from in front of the Metropolitan Police Board. It was past eight o'clock and the evening rush hour was over. The streetcar was almost empty. He was able to sit comfortably and cross his legs. The rocking motion of the car was not unpleasant.

Mihara was fond of streetcars. Strange as it may seem, he liked to board one of them just for the ride, without a set destination in mind. And when some problem arose to trouble him, he often chose to sit in a streetcar while he gave it thought. The slow speed and the swaying motion helped him to think. He enjoyed best a streetcar that stopped often, and that started up each time with a rattle and a jerk. He would get on one and ride to the end of the line, immersed in his thoughts.

Just as he was doing today. He was turning over in his mind what Kawanishi had told him. Yasuda had sent the Futaba Company a wire, asking Kawanishi to meet him at Sapporo Station. Yet the business was not urgent. Why, then, did he do it? Why did he have to ask for a meeting at the station? Mihara felt sure he now knew the reason. Yasuda wanted the fact confirmed that he did actually arrive at Sapporo Station on the Marimo express. He wanted Kawanishi to see him there in order to establish an alibi. An alibi? But what for? Why want to prove he was in Sapporo? Why try to prove he was not somewhere else?

Mihara was getting at the truth of something which hitherto had eluded him. He had to conclude that there was only one place that Yasuda would seek to avoid: that was Kashii Beach in Kyushu. Yasuda wanted to prove that he was not there.

He got out the railway timetable that, now, he always carried in his pocket. Assuming that the double suicide took place between 10 and 11 on the night of January 20, the first available express train to Tokyo from Hakata after the incident was the Satsuma leaving at 7:24 the following morning. At 8:44 P.M. on the twenty-first, when Yasuda appeared at Sapporo Station in Hokkaido and greeted Kawanishi, the express Satsuma would have just left Kyoto Station. Yasuda wanted to make it unmistakably clear that he was not, that he could not have been, present at the scene of the double suicide. But why insist upon it?

"Pardon me." The conductor tapped Mihara's arm to arouse him. The streetcar had reached the end of the line. Mihara got off, still deep in thought. He walked for a while through the brightly lighted streets, then boarded another streetcar. This one was bound for Ogikubo.

Presently he started pursuing a new train of thought. Yasu-da's appearance at Sapporo Station threw new light on his actions at Tokyo Station. Until this moment, Mihara had assumed that Yasuda's purpose in having the two waitresses present at the station was to see Sayama and Otoki board the train together. He now believed there was another reason. Yasuda wanted eyewitnesses to testify that he, Yasuda, had no possible connection with the double suicide. It was he who called the waitresses' attention to Otoki getting on the train with a man, and the way he said it made it appear as if he were a mere bystander, as surprised as they were by the scene. Thus alerted, the two girls looked over and saw Sayama and Otoki sitting side by side in the super-express Asakaze at the start of the suicide journey, and Yasuda, of course, was not with them. Yasuda took the Yokosuka Line to Kamakura. This was his alibi. And to support it further, he appeared at the Koyuki Restaurant the following night and again the night after. It looked as though he were underscoring the point.

The persons at the station during the four-minute train interval were not there by accident; they had to be there. Their presence was necessary and was arranged by Yasuda. Kawani-shi at Sapporo Station and the waitresses at Tokyo Station were witnesses provided by Yasuda. They were there to prove that he was not at the scene of the double suicide. Both encounters were planned by Yasuda and were tied to the events at Kashii Beach. They had served to show that he had not been present.

But they failed to convince Mihara. He was now more certain than ever that Tatsuo Yasuda had definitely been present. By planting his witnesses, Yasuda had tried to give a false impression. But he had not succeeded; his story had to be an inverted image of the truth. The night of January 20, between the hours of 10 and 11, Tatsuo Yasuda was at Kashii Beach in Kyushu at the scene of the double suicide of Sayama and Otoki. And he was in some way involved. But how, how? That was still unanswered. Yes, he was surely there, on that day and at that hour. He must have watched Kenichi Sayama and Otoki take poison and die. He was not far away from the scene, as he pretended; he was undoubtedly present. After carefully studying Yasuda's actions, it was clear that his statements were lies.

This was Mihara's conclusion. Yet, according to this assumption, Yasuda would have had to leave Hakata for the return journey by the 7:24 Satsuma Express the following morning, the twenty-first. En route, the train stops at Kyoto from 8:30 to 8:44 P.M., the very hour Yasuda was meeting Kawanishi at Sapporo Station in Hokkaido. Kawanishi was not lying; there was no doubt about that. Moreover, Yasuda registered at the Marusō Inn in Sapporo that same night about nine o'clock when the Satsuma would be speeding by the shores of Lake Biwa. How could one explain this contradiction between theory and the bald facts?

And there was yet another serious objection. Evidence that strongly supported Yasuda's statement was his signature on the passenger list of the Sei-kan ferry. This alone was enough to destroy Mihara's assumptions.

But Mihara refused to surrender to the overwhelming evidence. He held something against Yasuda that was strong enough to override these contradictions. It was his instinctive suspicion of Yasuda, his disbelief in the man's story. It was something he could not explain to others.

"Excuse me." The conductor interrupted his train of thought. The streetcar had reached the end of the line; the other passengers had already left. Mihara got off and changed to the Chūō Line which would take him back to the center of town. Yasuda was exceptionally clever, he was thinking. He had planned well, but there had to be a weak point somewhere. Where could it be?

Mihara was sitting in the train by an open window, the wind in his face. He was absorbed in his thoughts, his eyes half closed. Some forty minutes later he looked up suddenly and stared blankly at the advertisements across the aisle. Something had occurred to him. He thought again about seeing the signature of Yoshio Ishida, the X Ministry official, when he had checked the passenger register of the ferry at Hakodate.

"We know a little more now about Yoshio Ishida," said Chief Inspector Kasai. He explained to Mihara that Ishida was very sensitive on account of the scandal within the ministry and he had to act with prudence. The man could not be questioned directly. When he said he knew a little more about him he meant that he had been able to obtain information through other channels.

"We know that Ishida made the trip to Hokkaido on January 20. He left Tokyo from Ueno Station at 7:15 P.M. on the express Towada and arrived at Sapporo on the Marimo at 8:34 P.M. on the twenty-first. These are the same trains that Yasuda took." The chief had a copy of Ishida's schedule. It showed that the division chief had not left the train at Sapporo but had gone on to Kushiro. From there, he had made a tour of the eastern area of Hokkaido for which his office was responsible.

"I had my informant inquire about Tatsuo Yasuda. He confirmed the fact that both men were on the same train as far as Sapporo. Yasuda was also traveling second class but he was in a different coach. I'm told he came by several times to talk to Ishida so was clearly identified. Moreover, Yasuda is well known, for he is often seen at the ministry."

Mihara was bitterly disappointed. Once again, there was someone ready to testify that Yasuda was on the train. And this time it was not a witness provided by Yasuda. Ishida was a high ranking official; his itinerary for the trip to Hokkaido must have been arranged many days before. His name was on the passenger list of the ferry. There was not even a shred of doubt.

Mihara could not hide his disappointment. The chief got up from his desk, "Come on," he said, "the weather is fine. Let's take a walk."

Outside, it was warm and sunny. The bright sunlight was a sign of approaching summer. Men were walking about in their shirtsleeves. Coming out of their dark office in the Metropolitan Police Board building, their eyes were dazzled by the strong light. They crossed the street through heavy traffic and strolled along the palace moat. The white walls of the palace towers reflected the brilliant sunshine. Coming to an empty bench, they sat down. To the passers-by, they looked like a couple of company employees escaping from the office for a brief respite.

"While you were in Hokkaido I had the relations between Sayama and Otoki checked," the chief said. He took out a packet of cigarettes and offered one to Mihara.

Mihara looked at him. He had investigated the two who had committed suicide. For a moment he could not understand the reason. What did the chief have in mind?

"It probably wasn't necessary to check the relations of two people so intimate that they committed double suicide, but I wanted to be absolutely sure," the chief explained as if answering Mihara's unspoken question. "You know, they must have been meeting very secretly because nobody really knows anything about them. The girls at the Koyuki Restaurant were astonished that Otoki had committed suicide with Sayama. Waitresses usually learn about these love affairs very quickly, but in this case they didn't even suspect them. However…" The chief stopped and drew deeply on his cigarette as if to impress Mihara with the importance of what he was about to say.

"However, it's certain that Otoki had a lover. She lived alone in a small apartment where she received many telephone calls. According to the caretaker of the building, it was always a woman's voice on the telephone and she gave the name of Aoyama. Sometimes, when he took the message, he could hear music in the background, so the call might have come from a coffee shop or some similar place. The caretaker believes that she was calling Otoki for someone else, and he's sure that when Otoki came to the phone a man took over. Each time Otoki got a phone call from the woman she would immediately get dressed and go out. This went on for six months, until her death. She never had a man visit her in her apartment. She appears to have been very discreet in her relations with men."

"Do you believe the phone calls were from Sayama?" Mihara asked. He was feeling very uneasy.

"It was probably Sayama. We had Sayama checked also, but that was even less profitable. He had always been a man of few words, I'm told, and in addition, was very shy. Not the type to talk to others about his love affairs. Since we know that he committed suicide with Otoki they must have been lovers."

There was something unconvincing in the way the chief announced his conclusion which increased Mihara's misgivings.

"Then I had Tatsuo Yasuda's private life checked." The chief looked up at the pine trees across the palace moat. A palace guard was standing at the top of the stone wall.

Mihara stared at him. He realized that while he was in Hokkaido invisible currents had been eddying around the chief. Yet Inspector Kasai, after all, was only one of the figures in the investigation.

"We didn't have much luck there either," Kasai stated bluntly. "Tatsuo Yasuda apparently visits his wife once a week. So it's more than likely that he has affairs with other women. But there's no evidence of this. If he does have a mistress, he's very clever about keeping it a secret. This is merely an assumption, of course; Yasuda may be a faithful husband. They seem to be a devoted couple."

Mihara nodded. This had been his impression also when he called on Mrs. Yasuda.

"It would appear that Otoki, Sayama and Yasuda, if he does have a mistress, are all very skillful at keeping their love affairs secret."

His words struck Mihara forcibly. What had been only a slight hint suddenly became clear.

"Chief, has there been some new development?" He tried to suppress his excitement.

"Yes," Chief Kasai replied. "The section chief has become interested in this double suicide!"

Mihara knew at once what this signified. The section chief was being subjected to pressure from higher up.

Mihara's surmise was correct, Inspector Kasai admitted.

When Mihara came into the office the following day the chief called him over to his desk.

"I want you to hear this. Ishida sent us a message." He placed his arms on the desk, his hands clasped. It was a typical gesture when perplexed. "He didn't come in person. He sent someone from the ministry. Ah, here's the man's card."

The visiting card read: "Kitarō Sasaki, Official of X Ministry." Mihara looked at it, waiting for the chief to speak.

"Ishida said that he had been questioned the other day about Tatsuo Yasuda and when he found that the interrogation originated with the Metropolitan Police Board he decided to present his statement to us directly. He said that on his official trip to Hokkaido on January 20, Yasuda was on the same train. They were in different coaches but Yasuda dropped by to talk to him from time to time. If we want this corroborated we can question Katsuzō Inamura, an official of the Hokkaido government, who joined him in his coach some time after Otaru. Inamura was on the train from Hakodate, and when Yasuda came to say goodbye, before getting off at Sapporo, he introduced the two men. Inamura would undoubtedly remember the meeting. That's the gist of his statement."

"He really went out of his way to protect Yasuda, didn't he?" Mihara observed.

"You can look at it that way, of course. But perhaps he wanted simply to cooperate with the police when he found we were investigating him." The chief was smiling. The meaning of the smile did not escape Mihara.

"What do you suppose the relations between Ishida and Yasuda are?"

"One is a government official, the other a manufacturer doing business with the government. I leave the connection to your imagination. Just remember that Ishida is the principal suspect in the government bribery case. However, we have found nothing between them that is suspicious. Of late, Yasuda has been doing a good deal of business with that ministry, so I am quite sure he has been giving presents to the division chief. Ishida's willingness to protect Yasuda may be in return for these favors." The chief was pulling his fingers until the joints cracked.

"Even so, even if true, there's little we can do. As a matter of course, I sent a wire to Hokkaido for confirmation of Ishida's statements, but I expect nothing new in the reply. What it all amounts to is that Yasuda was not lying when he said he was on the Marimo on January 21."

One more witness to testify that Yasuda was on the Marimo! Mihara returned to his desk, deeply discouraged.

It was past noon. Mihara went up to the dining hall on the fifth floor of the Metropolitan Police Board building. The room was the size of a small department store restaurant. Sunlight poured in through the tall windows. Mihara had no appetite. He ordered a cup of tea and while sipping it, started to write in his notebook:

Yasuda's trip to Hokkaido:

His signature on the passenger register of the Sei-kan ferry. (No. 17. Connects with the Marimo at Hakodate.)

Division Chief Ishida's statement.

After passing Otaru, Ishida introduced a Hokkaido government official to Yasuda.

Yasuda met Kawanishi at Sapporo Station.

Deep in thought, Mihara sat staring at his memo. The four items looked irrefutable; they were like four concrete blocks placed one on top of the other. But they must be toppled, he decided. They absolutely had to be pulled down. How could the express Satsuma, leaving Hakata in Kyushu at 7:24 on the twenty-first possibly be connected with the express Marimo arriving at Sapporo at 8:34 the same day. It was impossible. Impossible of course, meant that it could not be. But, but… Tatsuo Yasuda did actually appear at Sapporo Station in Hokkaido. Holding his head in both hands, Mihara looked at his memo for the tenth time. Then, suddenly, he noticed something strange.

The train had passed Otaru when Inamura of the Hokkaido government was said to have been introduced to Yasuda. Yasuda was reported to have come from another coach to say goodbye to Ishida. Wasn't it curious that he should put in an appearance only after the train had passed Otaru Station? Ishida, Inamura and Yasuda boarded the Marimo at Hakodate but occupied different coaches. Why did Inamura get to meet Yasuda only after they had passed Otaru? Hadn't Yasuda called on Ishida from time to time during the journey?

Mihara took the timetable from his pocket. He saw that it took five hours by express from Hakodate to Otaru. Yasuda was on intimate terms with the division chief; surely he would not have avoided him during those five hours. Why didn't Yasuda ride in the same coach with Ishida and spend the time chatting with him? Of course it could have been diffidence on Yasuda's part, but there was no reason for not calling on him once during those five hours.

Inamura was a disinterested witness. He said he had met Yasuda for the first time after the train had passed Otaru. Could it be that Tatsuo Yasuda had boarded the Marimo at Otaru station?

The question flashed through Mihara's mind. If true, it would explain why they had met only after passing Otaru. It would also explain why Yasuda claimed to be in a different coach: he didn't want it known that he had come aboard at Otaru. He appeared before Ishida and Inamura as soon as the train pulled out of Otaru station, leaving Inamura with the impression he had been aboard since Hakodate.

Mihara thought he saw a ray of light piercing the gloom that had enveloped him. Something was vaguely taking shape. His heart beat faster.

But Yasuda could not have boarded the express at Otaru.

To do so, he would have to leave Hakodate on an earlier train than the Marimo in order to reach Otaru in time. With the available train connections, this was not possible.

But the thought that Yasuda might have gotten on at Otaru made Mihara pursue it further. It was hard to believe; he was not ready to accept it, but he felt there was something to the possibility. He finished his cup of tea that was now quite cold and left the dining hall. His mind was in a turmoil and he walked down the stairs in a daze.

Why did Yasuda get on the Marimo at Otaru station? Why should he want to get on at Otaru? Mihara kept turning the question over and over in his mind. If Yasuda did get on at Otaru, then he must have taken a train that left before the Marimo. The earlier train was the Akashiya, leaving Hakodate at 11:39. Still earlier were two local trains and an express which left at 6 A.M. But all of these were completely out of the question, of course.

To Mihara, Yasuda had to be situated at the scene of the double suicide in Kyushu between the hours of 10 and 11 on the night of the twentieth. He would look for the reasons later; Yasuda simply had to be there. But in order to get to Hokkaido from Hakata there was only the one express to Tokyo the following morning, leaving at 7:24. No matter which way he looked at it he encountered the same dead end.

"Without wings," he muttered to himself, "Yasuda couldn't possibly be in Hokkaido at that hour." Suddenly, he missed his step and fell on the stairs. The stairwell was brightly lighted.

He stifled a cry. Why hadn't he thought of it before? His ears were ringing. Picking himself up, he ran back to his office. He found the timetable and quickly turned to the back pages. This was the section reserved for Japan Airlines. His hands were unsteady. He read the flight schedule for the month of January:

Fukuoka 8:00 A.M…Tokyo 12:00 P.M. (Flight No. 302)

Tokyo 1:00 P.M…Sapporo 4:00 P.M. (Flight No. 503)

"I've got it!" Mihara took a deep breath. His ears were still ringing.

By plane, Yasuda could leave Hakata at 8 A.M. and arrive at Sapporo at four in the afternoon. Why hadn't this occurred to him before? He had concentrated on trains and could see no alternative to the Satsuma Express leaving Hakata at 7:24. He felt like pounding his stupid head. At long last his mind was clear of the fixation.

He telephoned the airline office. He asked how long it took to get from the Sapporo airport, located at Chitose, to the city proper.

"The bus takes about an hour and twenty minutes," he was informed. "From the bus terminal to the Sapporo railway station is a ten-minute walk."

Adding an hour and thirty minutes to 4:00 made 5:30. Yasuda could be at Sapporo station by 5:30. There were still three hours before the Marimo arrived at 8:34. Where was Yasuda during that time and what was he doing?

Mihara checked the schedule of the main line trains to Hakodate. He found a local leaving Sapporo at 5:40 that arrived at Otaru at 6:44. Next, he turned to the schedule of trains going to Sapporo on the same line. There was the Marimo Express, leaving Hakodate at 2:50 and arriving at Otaru at 7:51. This left an interval of an hour and seven minutes between the two trains. Yasuda would have a leisurely wait at Otaru Station before boarding the Marimo and heading back to Sapporo. He must have met Inamura shortly after boarding the train.

Why Yasuda had met Inamura for the first time after passing Otaru now became clear. Yasuda hadn't waited at Sapporo for three hours. Upon reaching the airport bus terminal, he hurried over to the Sapporo railway station and caught the local train for Otaru that left ten minutes later. At Sapporo he had had only ten minutes; at Otaru, a little over one hour. Yasuda had taken the greatest advantage of the least amount of time.

Mihara was reminded of the use the man had made of the four minutes between trains at Tokyo Station. He was impressed. Yasuda, he decided, was extraordinarily skillful in his employment of time.

He reported at once to Inspector Kasai. He went into detail, showing him the timetables. His voice betrayed his excitement.

"You've got it, I believe!" Kasai looked keenly at Mihara. His eyes seemed almost angry, reflecting his own excitement. "A fine job! This breaks Yasuda's alibi, although it seems odd to call it an alibi."

"I don't find it strange," Mihara insisted. "Up to now we believed that Yasuda could not have been at the scene of the suicides at the time they were committed. That is no longer true."

"You say it's no longer true that Yasuda could not have been there," the chief said, tapping the edge of his desk with his fingers. "Then do you believe it possible that he could have been there?"

"Certainly," Mihara replied, a note of triumph in his voice.

"You'll have to prove it," the chief said, again looking straight at Mihara.

"I can't do it right away. Give me time." He looked a little hurt.

"What you want to say is that there are still many points that are unclear. Isn't that it?"

"I'm afraid so."

"For instance, that Yasuda's alibi has been broken, but not completely."

The chief's face wore a curious expression. Mihara understood at once. "You are referring to Ishida's statements."

"Hmm!" Their eyes met and held for a few seconds. It was Kasai who looked away first. "Don't worry about Ishida. I'll take care of that." His voice was firm. The words were cryptic but Mihara knew what they meant. There was no need to explain; that could come later. They understood each other well.

"There is another problem that looks more difficult. What about the passenger list on the ferry? That's not personal evidence, it's written proof."

That was true, of course. When he had found Yasuda's signature in the passenger register at Hakodate, Mihara had sensed defeat. But now, strangely enough, he was not disheartened. True, the wall was still standing, but he no longer had a feeling of helplessness.

"I'll get past that one, too."

For the first time the chief laughed. "You seem in good spirits. Very different from the way you looked when you returned from Hokkaido. All right, do what you can."

Mihara was about to leave when Kasai put out his hand and stopped him. "You know, by trying to cover Yasuda, Ishida let the cat out of the bag, didn't he?"

Mihara was certain he had uncovered Yasuda's plan to use the Marimo as an alibi. But he still had to prove it. He put his thoughts down on paper: From Japan Airlines get name of person who made reservation on flight leaving Fukuoka 8 A.M. January 21 and reservation on connecting flight Tokyo to Sapporo 3:00 P.M. same day.

But wait! Yasuda said he had left Tokyo by the Towada Express from Ueno Station at 7:15 on the twentieth. Therefore he must still have been in Tokyo the afternoon of the twentieth. Knowing that he might be checked later, he wouldn't be so careless as to be away from Tokyo that whole day. He would put in an appearance at his office, or show up elsewhere, just to be noticed. Had he left for Hakata by train the afternoon of the twentieth he wouldn't arrive at Kashii Beach in time. So here also he must have used a plane.

Mihara again checked the airline schedule. There was a plane leaving Tokyo at 3:00, arriving at Fukuoka at 7:20. To reach the Tokyo airport by car takes thirty minutes. It would not look strange if he left the office about two in the afternoon, explaining that he had errands to do before catching the train at Ueno Station.

Next, Mihara listed the planes and trains which Yasuda might have used:

Jan. 20: 3:00 P.M. left Haneda (Tokyo) 7:20 P.M. arrived Itazuke (Fukuoka) (Probably he went to Kashü then spent the night at Fukuoka)

Jan. 21: 8:00 A.M. left Itazuke (Fukuoka) 12:00 P.M. arrived Haneda (Tokyo)

1:00 P.M. left Haneda (Tokyo) 4:00 P.M. arrived Chitose (Sapporo)

5:40 P.M. left Sapporo (local train) 6:44 P.M. arrived Otaru

7:57 P.M. left Otaru (Marimo Express) 8:34 P.M. arrived Sapporo (Met Kawanishi in the Sapporo Station waiting room)

21st, 22nd, 23rd: stayed at the Marusō Inn. Returned to Tokyo 25th.

That's it, he concluded, looking at the memo. But one doubtful point came to his mind. Why did Yasuda wire Kawanishi to meet him in the Sapporo Station waiting room? Since Yasuda got aboard the Marimo at Otaru, wouldn't it have been more convincing if they had met on the platform instead of the waiting room and Kawanishi had seen him actually getting off the train? Was there some deliberate purpose in designating the waiting room? There must be, for Yasuda was exceptionally cautious. What was it? Mihara could find no ready answer.

Well, I'll think about that later, he decided. First, let me try to account for his movements:

1. Check the Japan Airlines' passenger lists for that day. Also, the taxi that took Yasuda to Haneda Airport, the taxi or bus he used from Itazuke Airport into Fukuoka, and from Chitose Airport into Sapporo. Since all this took place some time ago it might be difficult to get the information.

2. Check the inn at Fukuoka where Yasuda stayed.

3. Look for someone who remembers seeing Yasuda on the local train from Sapporo to Otaru. At Otaru, where he had an hour to spare before the Marimo arrived, find out if anyone saw him at the station.

This was the evidence he needed. He didn't expect much from item three. The first two were important.

Mihara left the Metropolitan Police Board. It was a bright day. The Ginza was crowded. The sun was so strong the faces of people he passed looked strangely pale, as if bleached.

He entered the offices of Japan Airlines and went to the domestic lines counter.

"Do you still have the passenger lists for the month of January?" he asked the clerk.

"If you mean January of this year, we do. We keep the files for one year."

"I'd like the name of the passenger who made a reservation on flight No. 305 to Fukuoka on January 20, on flight No. 302 to Tokyo on the twenty-first, and from Tokyo to Sapporo on flight No. 503 the same day."

"Would these reservations be for the same person?"

"Yes."

"He must be a busy man. It's rather unusual so it shouldn't be hard to find."

The clerk brought out the passenger records and referred to the lists for January 20. Flight No. 305 made a stop at Osaka: forty-three passengers had continued on to Fukuoka. On the following day, there were forty-one passengers on the plane from Fukuoka to Tokyo and fifty-nine on the flight to Sapporo. Tatsuo Yasuda's name was not in the lists, nor did any one name appear on all three.

Mihara was not surprised. He would expect Yasuda to travel under an assumed name, but he had hoped to find at least one name repeated in the lists. In the total of 143 passengers, each name was different. How was this possible?

"Can one get a seat without making a reservation?" he inquired.

"Unless you reserve three or four days in advance you are not likely to get on the flight you ask for," the clerk explained.

To Yasuda, it would be of paramount importance to have a seat on each of these three planes. For if any one had failed him, he would not have been able to connect with the Marimo in Hokkaido on January 21. He must have made the reservations personally, and some days ahead. And even if he had used a false name, it should appear on the three lists. Yet however carefully Mihara checked, it was not there.

"I'm sorry to have troubled you. Please let me keep these for a few days." Mihara gave the clerk his card on which he wrote a receipt for the passenger lists.

He was depressed. The excitement with which he had started out the day had vanished. He walked as far as Yūraku-chō 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.