IN THE FICTIONAL CITY, in a restaurant far from Shiinamachi, far from the scene of the crime, I ask her, ‘How is work? It must feel strange being back there at the bank now, after everything …’
‘Are you asking me as a reporter,’ she whispers, ‘or as a … As a what? What are you? Who are you, Mr Takeuchi?’
I look down at the table, the glass jar of toothpicks, the white bottle of soy sauce, and I say, ‘A friend, I hope …’
‘Then thank you,’ says Murata Masako. ‘I hope so, too.’
IN THE FICTIONAL CITY, a telephone rings, a voice whispers, along the wires, down the cables, with a time and with a place –
Down an alley, in a room, another room of shadows, another room of stares, another man hands me another envelope –
I open the envelope. I read its contents:
GENERAL HEADQUARTERS
SUPREME COMMANDER FOR THE ALLIED POWERS
Civil Intelligence Section, G-2
PUBLIC SAFETY DIVISION
APO 500
11 March 1948
Memorandum
SUBJECT: Teikoku Bank Robbery Case To: Mr H. S. Eaton, Chief Administrator, Police Branch
1. Interference by Japanese newspaper reporters with the police investigation of the Teikoku Bank Robbery case, as reported by Jiro Fujita, Chief of Detectives, Tokyo Metropolitan Police earlier on 11 March 1948 was discussed informally by Bryon Engle, Administrator in Charge, Police Branch, and this investigator; at 1100 hours this date with Major D. C. Imboden, OIC, Press and Publications Section.
2. In response to suggestions of PSD representatives, Major Imboden approved Mr Fujita’s projected press conference for the purpose of discussing the Teikoku case with Japanese newspaper executives in order that the problems created by interference of news reporters might be fully explained to the newsmen and for the purpose of soliciting the cooperation of the newspapers in halting such reported practices as reporters following suspects in the case and shadowing police investigators working on the case as well as reporters representing themselves to be detectives in order to secure news matter. Major Imboden advised Mr Engle at 1300 hours this date that telegraphic advice had been dispatched to all Japanese newspapers not to interfere with the police investigation in the Teikoku case or indulge in such practices as have been ascribed to the Tokyo reporters by Mr Fujita.
3. Major Imboden also stated that he would communicate personally with the publisher of the Yomiuri Shimbun in Tokyo and advise him to have his reporters removed immediately from their reported watch on the homes of persons working or secretly assisting in the investigation. He also said he would discuss the matter with Allied censorship authorities exercising control of Japanese publications and request the censors cooperate in stopping publication of any article containing any reference to the police investigation of a Japanese Army Poison School being connected with the Teikoku case; further he will request the censors screen all articles pertaining to the Teikoku case on the basis of whether publication of the article will hinder apprehension of the culprit.
JOHNSON F. MUNROE
Police Investigator
I stop reading. I put the document back in its envelope. I hand him back the envelope. I take out my wallet. I hand him the cash.
The man counts the cash. The man puts it in his jacket pocket. The man smiles and says, ‘Didn’t think you’d like it, but thought you should see it. Explains a lot doesn’t it?’
IN THE FICTIONAL CITY, days pass and stories pass; days of snow, days of wind, days of rain and days of sun, stories of food poisoning, stories of strikes, stories of cabinets resigning and stories of cabinets forming, the end of Katayama and the beginning of Ashida, as winter turns to spring, spring to summer, the sky falling and the temperature rising, as censorship turns to coercion, coercion to complicity in the Fictional City, where days pass and stories pass, days and stories passing in complicity and in columns until Sunday 22 August 1948, and a story, a story not in my paper, not in the Yomiuri —
A story in our rival paper, in the Mainichi:
Teikoku Bank Poison Robbery Suspect Arrested in Otaru
OTARU, Aug. 22 — A well-known water-colour artist residing at Shinkinaimachi, Otaru City, Hokkaido, yesterday morning was arrested by detectives of the Metropolitan Police Board as a highly important suspect in the Teikoku Bank ‘mass poison murder’ case.
The arrival of the Tokyo detectives specifically for the purpose of arresting Hirasawa Sadamichi, 57, and taking him to Tokyo for questioning has given strong reason for believing that the police may finally have nabbed the long-sought-for Teikoku Bank criminal.
It is understood that Hirasawa previously had been listed by the manhunt headquarters in Tokyo as a likely suspect.
The arrested man was reported closely to fit the description of the diabolic Teikoku Bank murderer.
On April 16, last year, Hirasawa is said to have secured a name-card from Dr Matsui Shigeru, Welfare Ministry employee, when he met the doctor aboard an Aomori-Hokkaido ferryboat.
He is suspected of having used the name-card in holding-up the Teikoku Bank on January 26, this year. It is known that Hirasawa left Yokohama for Otaru aboard the Hikawa Maru on February 10, this year, shortly after the Teikoku Bank case.
Furthermore, suspicion has been heightened against the suspect by information obtained by the police that he transmitted a sum of ¥80,000 to his wife Masako, 55. Besides, the letter once sent to him by his wife said: ‘Please don’t do such a bad thing again.’
Hirasawa is well known in Tokyo art circles as a member of a water-colour artists’ association. He is said to have presented his paintings to the Bunten Art Exhibition numerous times.
In the Fictional City, I run down the long, long, long, long table to my editor’s desk, the Mainichi in my hand –
‘Just the man I wanted to see,’ says Ono. ‘Though that’s not the story I wanted to see, least not in that paper!’
I say, ‘We’ve been scooped …’
‘No time for tears now,’ sighs Ono, tapping his watch. ‘This suspect, this Hirasawa, he’ll be arriving at Ueno Station first thing tomorrow morning and I want you there with your girlfriend …’
I start to say, ‘She’s not my girlfriend …’
‘No time for denials now,’ laughs Ono. ‘You’ve got a busy day and night ahead of you, a lot of ground to make up. Before that train pulls into Ueno Station, I want an interview with this Hirasawa’s wife. Here’s her address …’
I take the address from him and I ask, ‘How did they get all that information, the Mainichi? Who are they talking to and why are they not talking to us? We’ve sat back, done what we’ve been told, played the game, been good little boys. It’s not fair …’
‘I’ve told you before,’ he tells me again. ‘You think too much. In our business, there’s no time for thoughts, no time for theories. In our business, we’ve just got to get on and get after the next story. And your next story is Hirasawa Masako …’
The next story, the next story …
In the Fictional City, I’m expecting the worst; expecting crowds of reporters and their photographers outside Number 32, 2-chōme, Miyazono-dōri, Nakano-ku, the wife and children of Hirasawa Sadamichi already in hiding or already waiting at the Mejiro Police Station, waiting for the arrival of Hirasawa Sadamichi. But in the Fictional City, there are no reporters and their photographers outside Number 32, 2-chōme, Miyazono-dōri, Nakano-ku, just a woman tending to some flowers, some poppies –