2

AS HE WALKED along, Shirakawa reflected on how different the world of thought surveillance was from what he had imagined it to be at the time he had applied to join the Agency, encouraged by his teacher, a member of the xenophobic Imperial Military reserve Association. Then, imbued with patriotic fervour, he had expected to enter a kind of intelligence institute, where he would research individuals and organizations disseminating unpatriotic ideas, or revealing information detrimental to his emperor’s and his country’s interests. He had assumed that if it were necessary for anyone to be arrested as a result of his investigations, the task would be undertaken by ordinary uniformed policemen. How naïve he had been. An integral part of his ivory tower was its dungeon, and in his work an Agent was expected to be as proficient with his muscles as with his mind. This discovery had been so traumatic that Shirakwa had wanted to resign. However, his trainer, sensing his intention, had pointed to the door, and said, “Only the Agency decides who enters and leaves this place. Suspects are let out once they confess; an agent only when he is no longer useful. A few years ago, I knew a new agent, who discovered he had a delicate stomach, and took off. A little later he was found drowned in the river; the odd thing was that he was quite a strong swimmer.” The moral of the trainer’s tale was clear. Happily, for Shirakwa’s sanity, he had a level of intelligence above that of the normal agent, and had been able to use brain rather than brawn to rise rapidly to a position where dungeon duties could be left to others. He had not been unaffected by his environment however, coming to accept that the will of an unco-operative suspect had to be broken. Nevertheless, he was still uncomfortable about the obvious enjoyment evinced by some of his colleagues at the prospect of roughing up a suspect, and their use of torture as other than a last resort. He also recognised that the atmosphere of the Agency induced in many officers, such as Hokuru, a callous indifference towards and a lack of confidence in the abilities of their subordinates. He resolved, as he had often done while pursuing this train of thought, that when he became a Commander he would refine the interrogation methods, and treat his inferiors in the way tradition decreed a master should.
Thus preoccupied, the Inspector passed almost blindly along the busy narrow streets until he reached the restaurant where he and the German were to meet. He had, without realising, been walking rapidly, a glance at his watch found that he had arrived a little early. He used the opportunity to select a table in a quiet corner.
Precisely at the time agreed upon, a tall European, with a bullet shaped head shaved in the Prussian fashion, entered the restaurant and looked around. Shirakawa surmising that the man was Spieler stood up and raised an arm. The new comer saw the gesture and walked up to him.
“Spieler San?”
“Hai.” The German’s voice was gruff.
“I am the a person you phoned.” An agent never revealed his name, rank or affiliation in a public place. “Please sit down. What do you wish to drink? I have ordered a sake. Perhaps you would like one? The sake served here is excellent.”
“No, I will have a schnapps.”
A waitress brought Shirakawa’s sake and took their orders. Before she returned the two men had sized up each other.
The Inspector noted the heavy jowls and paunch and how his guest had sat down with some difficulty, his bulk spreading beyond the width of the chair. Clearly, Spieler enjoyed eating and drinking. His bristled hair was grey. He was, Shirakawa estimated, in his fifties, one who had, if the look in the eyes was anything to go by, long been accustomed to getting his own way.
Spieler, for his part, was surprised to discover that a police inspector could be so young in a country, where, it had been his observation; rank was usually equated with age. The fellow must possess above average ability. He was also, the German saw, with some envy, in peak physical condition; his well-cut hair glistened with health, the muscles of his face were firm, his moustache was thick though well-trimmed, and the eyes clear and revealing considerable intelligence
The waitress brought the food and the schnapps. After she had left, Shirakawa opened the conversation, enquiring how Spieler had obtained his name, rank and phone number.
“Oh, quite easily. The telephone company with whom my company does business let me have the number of your Agency; your name was given to me by one of your colleagues at the switchboard when I asked to speak to the officer-in-charge on a matter of vital national importance.”
“He gave my name? I find that difficult to believe.”
“Oh, not immediately. First, he merely said that the Section Head was unavailable, whereupon I told him that my business could not wait, and demanded to be apprised of who was the next most senior officer. your name and rank slipped out of his mouth before he realised what he was saying. Doubtless, it was a grave dereliction of duty, and he should be properly dealt with for it.”
The German’s pleasure in exposing an agent’s inefficiency riled Shirakawa. “I am extremely busy,” he said, “therefore I should be pleased if you would make known your reason for wishing to see me.”
Spieler sensed that he had affronted the Japanese, and attempted a conciliatory approach. “ I am urgently in need of your services. There is a clerk in my office, one Nozu Aritomo, whom I need to have placed under surveillance.” “It is not my job nor that of my colleagues to tail persons on behalf of businessmen. If I had known that this was what you wished to discuss, I would have given you over the phone the names and addresses of several competent private investigators, and so saved the time of both of us.”
“This is not an ordinary business matter.”
“It may not be, nevertheless, any evidence you possess about the wrongdoing of an employee should be passed to the officer at your nearest police post.”
“If the matter had simply been one of an offence against my company, I certainly would not have troubled you. However, something that threatens the interests of both our nations will, I think, be of concern to you.” Shirakawa did not allow his face to express his scepticism. Unaware of the agent’s reaction, Spieler went on to say, “you are probably mindful that my company is supplying your navy with certain military equipment.”
An agent does not admit to ignorance. “Of course, and you have a contract with the National Telegraphic Agency.” The German nodded. “Well,” said Shirakawa encouragingly.
“I believe that a clerk in my office, one Nozu, is copying technical drawings and equipment specifications and has begun to sell the copies to our competitors.”
“Then he is committing a crime. But why should his activities threaten Japan’s security?”
“The equipment that I am referring to is the newest and best in the world today. Japan’s navy is obtaining apparatus that no navy other than Germany’s possesses. The enemies of my country and of your country would reward generously anyone who could reveal to them its
secret features.”
Shirakawa became very attentive. This was, indeed, no ordinary crime, ”How do you know that the copies are being made?”
“One morning I arrived unusually early at the office and spotted a scrap of paper screwed into a ball on the floor. As I dislike untidiness, I picked it up, intending to show it to the cleaners when I reprimanded them. On opening it, however, I was pleased that they had been inefficient, for the paper contained a partly completed sketch of what I immediately recognised was a component of the military equipment. I should explain, by the way, that no one in the office, not even me, is permitted to make copies of the blueprints. The paper had been screwed up presumably because of the error that I had noticed the sketch contained, and, doubtless, he who had made it had intended to take it away for neither before or since have I found other examples of his handiwork.”
“Perhaps the cleaners remove them before you arrive in the mornings.”
“That has not happened since my discovery.” Shirakawa asked him how he could be so sure. “That same day I issued instructions to the head cleaner that from then on all scraps of paper were to be collected and placed in a container in my office. Each morning, I close my office door and examine the contents of that container.”
Shirakawa was momentarily amused by the idea of this punctilious businessman sifting through rubbish, but his mind swiftly returned to the seriousness of the matter that had prompted such extraordinary behaviour. “Perhaps your man is just being more careful. He may have learnt of your instructions from the cleaner.”
“Oh no, I specifically stated to the cleaner that he was to tell no one. The man is trustworthy, a long time employee. Besides, he knows that disregarding my orders would cost him his secure and well-paid job.”
“Why do you suspect this Nozu of being the copyist?”
“A sudden affluence, which a clerk’s salary could not support.”
“He might have inherited money or won it by gambling.” “Or discovered a buried treasure,” Spiel said sardonically. Shirakawa’s jaw tightened. “you realise, of course, you are making serious allegations against a Japanese national. I should warn you that if an investigation were to reveal that these charges are without foundation your own continued stay in Japan could come under scrutiny.”
The Prussian responded in an uncharacteristic manner for one being questioned by an agent of the state security service, calmly, ignoring the implied threat. “I think the man has given cause for suspicion. recently I overheard one clerk tell another that Nozu had acquired a house of his own, and it had a garden. The clerk then said he was surprised because Nozu had often complained that on his salary he could barely pay the rent of his rooms. Besides, there are other indications. These days he often arrives at the office in a jaded state, with puffy eyes and foul breath as if he had been out all night in bars and geisha houses. He has changed completely. Even his fellow clerks have noticed. They joke that they, too, would like to become millionaires.”
“How long has this man been with your company?” “Several years.”
“If the employment of this clerk places in jeopardy your company’s secrets, have you not thought of dismissing him.”
The German looked uncomfortable. “That is not feasible.”
“Why not?”
“The fellow has rare linguistic skills. More importantly, he knows too much.”
“May I put it to you that the reason you want the man placed under surveillance is because you are not one hundred percent sure that his new wealth comes from peddling military secrets.”
“Well, there might just well be another explanation. An act of espionage, however, has occurred and I am reporting it to you. It is a matter which your Minister of the Interior, would, I can well imagine, wish to have investigated.”
“Suppose that I discover that your clerk is doing what you accuse him of, then I shall have to arrest him.” The German from the promptness of his response had probably already envisaged such a result for he said, “I would advise against such an action.” The agent asked why. “A trial would bad for the government for once the proceedings were published, and they would be, if not here then abroad, for even a closed Court has its leaks, Japan’s reputation as a reliable recipient of a foreign power’s military secrets would be destroyed forever.”
“And what do you consider should be done?” Shirakawa’s tone was sarcastic.
“There is in Japan, so I understand, another way of dealing with this kind of problem.”
There was although Shirakawa was surprised that the German would know of it; a lethal way, unsanctioned by law, but, on occasion, employed by the law’s own guardians. For a few moments, he was sunk in thought. Spieler’s allegations of a security breach would have to be followed up. An investigation allowing what Hokuru would want, infiltration of a foreign company. Lifting his head, he stared into the German’s eyes, “I will look into the matter.”
“Good. When will you begin?”
The new Commander would expect a quick response. “Tonight.” The German was pleased; he opened his jacket and drew out his wallet, from which he extracted a photograph.
“Here, this is your man.” The Inspector took the photograph, noting the thin smooth face, the unobtrusive moustache, the neatly cut hair, the expressionless eyes; in sum, the features of a lowly white-collar employee. “I have heard clerks, in Nozu’s presence, refer to certain bars and geisha houses as if they were of the view that he frequented them. I wrote down the names.” He handed Shirakawa a piece of paper.
“Thank you, I have not time, however, to spend on a wild-goose chase, so when your office closes this evening, I shall be outside ready to tail your man. Later, it may be necessary to investigate other employees.” The German appeared to be unhappy about such a prospect. “Don’t worry, an Agent does not reveal his identity. I will be a newly appointed clerk. We can work out the details together.” He sensed that he had not allayed Spieler’s disquiet. “But one step at a time.” Did he imagine it or were second thoughts passing through the German’s mind about the wisdom of contacting him? His attempts to learn more about the manager were unsuccessful. The German was not interested in Japanese history or culture. Small talk was neither man’s forte, therefore, having discussed the reason for their meeting, they concentrated on the meal, and, as soon as the bill had been paid they went their different ways.