日本放送協会 NHK NEWS: New Meiji Metropolitan Police Department Press Conference
[This press conference is about the police intercept gone wrong that happens in Chapter 2 of the Gumi_Reloaded fic, Street Commerce 101. The press conference takes place after and during the action described in the Gumi_Reloaded fic, The Day After.]
Date:Tuesday, February 7, 2060
Time:09:00 - 15:00 (Formal Press Conference at 13:00)
Place:New Meiji Metropolitan Police Headquarters
Characters: Saitoh, Watanabe, Sr. Superintendent Uramura, Reporters and other Like-Minded Morons
"Commander Watanabe?"
Karen looked up from her desk, her artificial eye glinting ominously red in the early morning sunshine.
"Sr. Superintendent Uramura is on line one, Ma'am."
After waiting a second to get her thoughts centered, the grey haired woman picked up the telecom headset and punched line one.
"Watanabe here," she said as quietly as her synth-box would allow. There were times that she was grateful that the artificial voice box lacked any discernible vocal modulators, leaving her with a perfectly even electronic rasp. It was easy to sound calm when you sounded like a computer recording. This was one of those times. She'd been on pins and needles ever since Hajime had been called up to Uramura's office. That had been over an hour ago.
She listened to the man who was responsible for running the entire New Meiji Police Precinct, her concern mounting exponentially at the man's pleasant (too pleasant) tone as he asked her politely if she would please come up to his office, that there was a matter of police business he needed to discuss with her.
The woman frowned, laugh lines creasing with concern. Was this summons due to Umagoe's disastrous intercept? Was it because of the events last night in the parking garage? There was a very short list of issues that would prompt a face to face meeting with a man who was responsible for managing the largest police force on Earth and none of them were pleasant.
"Yes, Sir. I'll be there in five minutes," she said, her grating tone perfectly constant as she disconnected the telecom and stood, taking her tablet with her.
The walk and elevator ride up to the highest floor of the DOJ megaplex seemed to take five hours rather than five minutes. As she wove her way through the labyrinthine corridors of the top floor, she saw people huddled around computers and in break rooms watching news coverage of the bloodbath in a basement storage room in the lower districts. Already the media circus was in full swing, with a dozen different stations replaying edited footage of a woman being murdered, a sword wielding man whose name and ultimate intent was still a mystery, of officers being cut down like summer wheat beneath a scythe. It was a nightmare, one of Umagoe Fujimori's making. (Damn fool!) Watanabe didn't even try to be compassionate in her thoughts towards the dead officer. As far as she was concerned, the asshole had it coming to him for putting the entire force at risk and subjecting them all to the worst sort of ridicule.
Karen checked in with Uramura's secretary and was told to please have a seat. She preferred to stand. As she waited, she listened quietly to the various news commentary that were broadcasting from several computer terminals. One pundit was expounding on the need for deadly force in the police, that a "shoot first" mentality was necessary in light of the increasingly vicious criminal activity. Another pundit, one from a network that promised fair and balanced coverage, but provided the exact opposite, was screaming about how the entire police system was broken, how this was the tip of the proverbial iceberg and that the entire force was nothing but collection of inept, sociopathic malcontents.
Karen made a mental note to see if the journalist had any outstanding parking tickets, then turned her attention to another perspective, this one from an American news outlet that was popular in Japan. The blond newsperson was chattering inanely about the 132nd Academy Awards, and the nominees. Karen snorted contemptuously as pastel hued fashionable froth was flashed on the screen. The fact that the awards coverage was the most professionally done of the lot did not speak well as to current journalistic standards.
The door to Uramura's office opened.
"You'll need to report to the press room at 12:00 for a final briefing."
Captain Saitoh Hajime nodded stiffly. Karen's heart sank when she took in the man's expression. To say that her commanding officer was unhappy was a horrible understatement. He was furious.
"Ahh, Commander Watanabe, please come in. I do hope we didn't keep you waiting too long?" Uramura said politely, ever the gentlemen. Saitoh, who perhaps fell a little lower on the social graces scale than his superior officer, merely snorted and gave her a slight nod as he passed by her.
"You're not going to stay and tell her the good news?" Uramura asked blandly.
"Good news is your specialty, Sr. Superintendent, not mine," Saitoh growled menacingly as he began to walk away from the executive wing of the building, his expression severe enough to cause one of the younger secretaries to become flustered and accidentally staple her sleeve to a thick report. "If she has any questions, she knows where to find me."
For the first time in her career, Karen Watanabe set foot in the office of New Meiji's Sr. Police Superintendent. Compared with the Spartan settings of her commanding officer, Uramura's office was lavish, filled with framed pictures of public officials, his family and a woman Karen assumed was the man's wife. Uramura took a seat behind a massive mahogany desk and bade her to sit down in a large, leather upholstered chair.
"I prefer to stand, Sir," Karen said, still at attention.
"You sound just like him," Uramura pointed out as he looked over several sheets of paper. "There are times, Commander that I wonder at Captain Saitoh's undue influence on the Third Squadron."
Karen stiffened, her remaining, normal eye narrowing at the perceived insult. "My commanding officer is an exceptional leader, Sir."
"I didn't say it was a negative influence, Watanabe," Uramura said soothingly, noting with approval that the woman was ferociously loyal to her Captain. This morning he'd already had four such conversations and with the exception of Saitoh and Watanabe, the other officers had thrown each other to the wolves rather than risk losing face or the chance at being promoted.
"How long have you been on the force, Commander?"
"Nearly twenty years, Sir."
"And how long have you reported to Captain Saitoh?"
"For five years, Sir."
"Is there a reason that you have not actively sought promotion? With all your years on the force and your record, you should be at a higher rank."
"I have not avoided the opportunity for promotion, Sir," Karen replied. She'd wanted to progress in her career like any driven officer, but her age, gender and rather mangled appearance had worked against her until she'd been assigned to Saitoh's squadron.
Uramura steepled his fingers together and looked at the older woman. He'd wondered at Saitoh's logic in promoting a grandmother of two to a ranked leadership position. She was older than most officers and physically weaker than the officers she commanded, especially after being nearly blown apart after a PED had exploded near her station, causing her to lose half of her face and a shoulder. Time however, had proved the Captain's instincts to be correct. The tiny, white haired woman was one of the best cyber crackers on the force and was deeply respected by those she worked with and intensely loathed by those who tried to stand in the way of any investigation she was working on. She was ruthless, intelligent and one of the few officers who was considered nigh incorruptible by the Justice Department.
"I see," Uramura said, "well, then please allow me to offer you my congratulations, Watanabe. You have been recommended for promotion by your commanding officer. The Third Tactical Squadron is yours."
"What?" Karen didn't even bother to hide her shock. "But…but what about…"
"Captain Saitoh has been reassigned to the Second Tactical Squadron. With Umagoe's unfortunate passing, there is a leadership vacuum that must be filled."
Watanabe frowned. "Permission to speak candidly, Sir."
"Of course," Uramura said, almost indulgently.
"Assign me to the Second instead," she requested, a measure of urgency detectable in her body language. "
"You don't think Captain Saitoh is up to the job?"
"Of course he is," Watanabe shook her head, refusing to allow any misunderstanding, "It is the squadron that is not deserving of his leadership." Her disgust was palpable. Umagoe's section was notorious in the force for being corrupt and prone to actions not suitable for sworn officers. There were rumors of officers being on more than one payroll, rumors that she personally knew to be true. Worse yet, the men were undisciplined and many of them were violent. Several high profile cases had been dismissed due to improper procedure from Squad 2, cases that allowed repeat offenders to be released on the streets.
"I find it ironic, Commander Watanabe that my original inclination was to put you in command of the Second Squadron. Your commanding officer objected and requested that he assume responsibility for the section instead and that you be given command of the Third Squadron."
It had been Saitoh's demand (one that was based in the desire to protect one of his officers) that had told Uramura that he was making the right choice in promoting both the Captain and Commander of the Third Squadron. The Second Squadron was a disaster, one that Uramura knew he'd had a hand in making. (Umagoe's political ties made him impossible to fire) There would be severe repercussions due to the televised intercept and now that he no longer had to pander to the Umagoe Family, a systematic purge of compromised officers was in order and there was only one individual who was up to what certainly would be an unpleasant and dangerous task.
"You are not the only one who has been elevated in rank today, Captain." Uramura extended the formal paperwork to the woman, who took it without a word or a glance. "Your commanding officer is now the new Superintendent for the Criminal Investigation Section and will rely on you and your squadron to assist him in restricting and refining the entire department. You both have your work cut out for you."
Watanabe looked downright mutinous. She strongly suspected that Uramura had used her as bait to force Saitoh into taking command over a corrupt and dangerous section, one that had little respect for the rule of law. He'd never willingly leave his squadron simply so he could have a chance at promotion. Saitoh hated paperwork, hated the bullshit filled bureaucracy that comprised the higher ranking offices of the NMMPD. Only duty and a desire to protect his officers would compel him to enter into such an unpleasant compact.
"Do you disagree with the actions taken?"
Karen looked at the Sr. Superintendent and nodded firmly, her countenance grim and hard. It was political suicide, but she didn't care. She had been used and was being used and the part of her that had reared four boys by herself, and viewed an amber eyed officer as one of her own, had been provoked. "I understand, however, why the actions were taken, Sir, and will ensure that Superintendent Saitoh will have all the support he needs to make our department the best in the precinct."
Uramura nodded. "I have no doubts of that Captain Watanabe." He could tell that his machinations were open to her, as they had been to Saitoh and accepted their wordless censure. Politics and back office maneuvering had placed two good officers in the crosshairs and as long as they performed to his expectations and remained loyal to the force, he would not hold their honesty against them. "There will be a press conference at 13:00 that you and the other Squadron Captains will need to attend. Dress uniform will be required. You will need to meet at 12:00 in the media room for a briefing by your new commanding officer. Do you have any questions?"
"No, Sir. I'll see that all necessary preparations are taken care of." Karen stood up. "Is there anything else, Sir?"
"I would ask a personal favor of you." Uramura sat back in his chair, his normal façade cracking a little as he looked at the ferociously loyal woman. "I know of your efforts to help Saitoh-san remain sober." He held up a hand, not allowing the outraged officer to interrupt. "He has been completely honest with me about his struggles. We meet once a month to discuss his progress and he is doing well, thanks in great part to your assistance and support. A great deal of responsibility has been placed upon him and the next few months will be exceptionally stressful and difficult. His resolve will certainly be tested."
Uramura stood up and walked around his desk to where the woman was standing.
"I would ask that you continue to protect your friend and partner and remain as his AA Sponsor and let me know how I may be of assistance in the event that the situation becomes perilous. In the event that you believe that Saitoh-san is in jeopardy, whether due to a relapse, or the machinations of others who will not benefit from the necessary restructuring, I expect you to notify me immediately."
(The hell I will, you prick…) While her status as Hajime's sponsor was never in question, she'd rather short circuit her synth-box than reveal any of Hajime's private struggles to the Sr. Superintendent. She was no rat and never would be. There were other individuals who she might dare confide in, one woman in particular who might end up as a powerful advocate on Hajime's behalf, but the man standing in front of her was a bureaucrat first and foremost, and therefore suspect in her sight. "He will surpass your expectations, Sir." Karen said tightly, giving the Sr. Superintendent a sharp salute.
"Is there anything else, Sir?"
"No, you are dismissed." Mindful that she'd not exactly agreed to his demand to keep him informed, he returned the salute and watched as the woman walked purposely from his office. Uramura sighed then and leaned back in his chair, hoping against hope that he'd not just artificially shortened the careers and lives of two of his finest officers.
Saitoh
Squadron Briefing 12:15
Ryota Satou, Squad 5's Captain looked up at his new superior officer, his black eyes snapping with anger. "We're making a mistake by releasing this information!"
Saitoh leaned forward, glad that one of the moron's had finally summoned the nerve to speak up. "Is that so?"
Ryota paused, still trying to feel out his new boss. Saitoh Hajime's reputation depended entirely on who you were talking to. (Umagoe and nearly everyone on his squad hated this guy's guts) While he'd liked the younger captain (and all the connections that Umagoe offered by virtue of his powerful family) he was second guessing the validity of a man's opinion that apparently had not only fucked up an intercept, but had invited the media to record the whole damn mess.
He glanced over at Yamamoto, Squad 4's leader, briefly. While Umagoe had deeply despised Saitoh, the oldest squad captain had nothing but gruff praise for the man. Saitoh had served under Yamamoto briefly when he'd joined the force and apparently the experience had been a good one for both parties.
"Yes," Ryota finally gave his opinion, deciding that in light of how serious the issue was, taking a risk was necessary. "It opens up the force to a degree of liability and ridicule that is unacceptable. "
"I agree," Itou, the first squad's captain, piped up, now that he felt it was safe to do so. "The last thing we need right now is to actively generate more bad press for the police. We have an election cycle coming up. You know what that means don't you?"
Saitoh leaned back and smiled thinly. "Why don't you tell me what it means?"
"Budget cuts, loss of funding, cuts to pensions and pay," Itou offered up the reasons quickly. "We're already ill equipped, underpaid and are losing officers, whether to natural attrition, accidents or death faster than we can replace them. You put this out there, that we have cops that aren't following the rules and the politicians will have us by our hairy…"
He looked over at Karen and flushed, "…err…sorry about that Watanabe."
Karen laughed, her synth box sounding like fingernails going down a chalkboard. "Balls? Is that what you were going say?" She gave the Captain a look that could melt paint off the side of a building and continued. "The fact is we're already strung up by our dangly bits. The media was there remember? They were recording from the onset of the intercept. Umagoe's ego would have seen to that."
"I've seen the news reports from the different media outlets." Ryota countered, "While yes, there was the indication that the officers, Umagoe in particular, behaved improperly…"
"You call murdering a woman in innocent blood improper?" Yamamoto thundered, speaking for the first time since the briefing began. "She was unarmed and not a named suspect!"
"Yes, yes, the woman's death is regrettable…" Ryota said smoothly, "a terrible tragedy to be sure. But other than that, what does that media have that they can hold over our heads?"
"They were using, Ryota!" Watanabe said, her metallic voice sounding almost sad.
"What proof do we have of their alleged use?" Itou asked, carefully. He'd been a part of the DOJ before transferring to the Criminal Investigations Unit and still thought and acted like a lawyer. "Are we operating off of opinion and hearsay or can you present more credible evidence?"
Saitoh's new tablet buzzed, he glanced down at the incoming file and opened the rather lengthy attachment.
"Do preliminary toxicology reports count as credible evidence, Itou? What about media recordings of the morons pulling out epi-pens and shoving them into their skin?" Frowning severely, Saitoh slid his tablet out into the middle of the table so that the other captains could see the results. "We have both, unfortunately."
"If we have this, then so does the goddamn media," Yamamoto swore, leaning back in his chair, his aged face paling as he reviewed the toxicology reports. "Shit almighty, all of them were using?"
Itou leaned over the table and looked at the damning results. "Everyone who died was. Look." He pointed to a line of data. "Based on this, I would say they were using for quite some time." He frowned and looked at Ryota. "If the press finds out about this…"
"They already have," Saitoh's voice cleanly cut through the resulting argument between the Captains, like a katana through unresisting flesh. "There's currently a bidding war between four stations for 'exclusive rights' to footage of our officers shooting up and shooting each other. I watched the unedited tapes in Uramura's office and there is no defense we can mount that can justify what occurred in that storage room."
He'd allowed his new subordinates a measure of time to discuss and think about the situation, but time was running out and decisions had to be made, choices that would be faced on evidence and rule of law rather than opinion and political preference. Those days were over as far as he was concerned.
"Whoever wins the bidding war is going to release this footage after the conference to prove that we were being duplicitous. If we hold anything back, our position will be worse than it is now. However, if we take the initiative and are completely transparent…"
Karen smiled, "Then the stations have thrown away a few million yen, have no story that hasn't already been freely shared and we end up..."
"With one hell of a mess on our hands," Yamamoto shook his head, appalled that Umagoe had been so terminally short sighted. "Admitting that members of the force are drug users and murderers is one thing, Superintendent. Fixing the underlying issue is something else entirely."
"Indeed," Saitoh was already one step ahead of his officers. "It is my intent to read this at the press conference and your responsibility to see that every person in your command strictly abides by this policy." While he had entertained opinions, even those that differed from his during the first part of the briefing, the actions detailed in the memo that he was passing out were not up for discussion.
The captains read the memo, their reactions absolutely telling.
"Fine," Watanabae shrugged and set the document aside. "It's high time we cleaned house anyway."
Yamamoto pulled out an old-fashioned pair of bifocals and read the document carefully, then swore like the sailor he'd once been. "Our headcount's going to drop like a stone in the sea, but in light of what's happened, I don't see any other option. If we lose the trust of the public, what's the point of being cops?"
"You're going to get sued," Itou sniffed, "Employees will claim this is an undue invasion of privacy."
"You can't do this," Ryota said, his normally smooth voice taking on a decidedly croaking tone. "Uramura would never agree to such…draconian measures."
"Uramura already has," Saitoh sneered, his opinion of Squad 5's Captain becoming fixed. "My assuming command of Squad Two and this department was predicated on his complete agreement of these terms." He then took out some paperwork from a file and put it on the table. "There are my toxicology test results. I had myself tested this morning with a witness present at the narcotics lab. My financials will be available for inspection tomorrow afternoon once accounting releases them. I expect your test results and financial statements on my desk by the end of the week. If I don't have them, then I will expect a letter of resignation. Take it or leave it."
He stood up, towering over the squadron captains. "Any questions?"
He was met with dead silence. "Fine. Finish getting dressed and report to the press room. If you're late or I catch you speaking to a member of the press without my express permission and a release form from public relations there will be hell to pay, do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Sir!" four voices sounded off, with varying degrees of sincerity.
Saitoh nodded, picked up his tablet and files and walked out of the room without a backward glance.
"You are dismissed."
Mishima_Eiji
Eiji stood in the back of the room, wedged between the water cooler and the blunt nosed officer that stood near the door and kept looking at him out of the corner of her eye and snickering. There weren't enough chairs, they'd said. Sorry Mishima, they'd said. As they always did. At every press conference. He didn't mind, really. Well he did, but it didn't matter where he sat- or stood, the jerks- as the case may be. So long as he flailed his hand like an idiot, he gotten called on about 40% of the time. And he was going to get a question in this time even if he had to fly.
He fiddled with the mini-cam, checking the battery life once again and the magnet strength a third time. It had been getting pretty sketchy lately and if the camera crashed to the ground because of mag failure he could not afford another. Hell, he had barely been able to afford this. It was worth the risk, though, because this, this was big. His heart thudded in his throat. All the major local news channels were here of course, national levels, too, the BBC and the UAMC all the way from New York. They were clustered in their own little group, talking and laughing in English as if no one could understand them.
But, he calmed himself, but the news didn't necessarily have to be that big. It was huge, no doubt about that, but the internationals could have just popped in from the conference that had just ended a few days ago. One man still had an Hello, My Name Is, sticker stuck to the back of his shirt. Someone had written Kiss-Ass on the back of it and Eiji giggled before he could stop himself. The blunt nosed cop gave him a look. Real reporters don't giggle, her eyes said, and she still wasn't convinced he was. Even though he'd gone to every single freaking release almost since the day he realized they existed.
Oh well. Not important. He went over his notes, listening to the buzz around the room. The cops were using drugs, someone had said, which was, whoa, big freaking news. And Eiji could only half believe if, if he hadn't snuck a peek at one reporter showing the footage to his colleague. He was still having trouble with the concept. Cops using? Oh man, oh man, that...that would just lead to chaos. Even more so than it was already. Plus there was that assassin guy. Probably "Ken", Eiji would bet his eyeteeth. And the poor woman. His stomach turned a little at that and he swallowed it back. No time for that.
"Hey, Mishima," said a voice, and Eiji looked up to see Todai Ichiro from Channel 7. "Neighbor's cat got stuck up a tree! I bet it was aliens. You should put that in your paper."
"Darn those aliens," said his college and a wave of laughter swept over the room. Eiji felt his face blister but didn't rise to the bait. What did he care if they didn't think he was real or did serious news or was just a conspirator. Print one stupid story about possible UFO abduction when you're twenty-one and everyone remembered it forever.
The blunt nosed officer lifted a hand and pressed it against her ear. It was starting. Eiji checked his battery and mags one more time before getting out his notepad and pen. Archaic, maybe, but didn't require battery life. While he waited he tried to remember how to breathe.
Eiji tapped the pen against his notepad until the blunt nosed officer harrumphed in a way that said she'd toss him out ass over ankles, so he stopped and straightened, as everyone else, staring at that plain little brown door that would change the fate of the world.
Then, slowly, the door opened. A calm washed over Eiji. Settled his hands. Steeled his nerves. This was what he was born for. The first person into the room was Senior Superintendent Uramura. Calm and collected as ever. He was sort of like tap water, giving out just what he thought the press needed in the blandest, most pleasant way possible. Everyone stood in respect, except Eiji of course who was already pre-respecting.
Following right on Uramura's heels was... Capt...Captain Saitoh. Wait, why was he following? Eiji felt a nervous flutter deep in his gut that always happened when he saw the man and pressed that down, too, so it was quickly gone. This wasn't protocol. Why was Captain Saitoh right behind him? Unless he'd gotten one hell of a promotion. One hell of a quick one. But why Saitoh? Weird and weird and weird.
Other officers filed into the room but Eiji didn't take his eyes off of Captain Saitoh's lean wolfish form, even meeting his yellow eyes, trying to impart through sheer willpower that, yes, he would be the one to find out everything, thank you for asking. But he had to quickly look away because Saitoh-san looked like he would lop off the head of the next fool who dared to use any kind of wit.
Okay, so Uramura, bland, Saitoh, pissed. The news was bad. But judging by the frowns of the other superior officers, they were annoyed but not grim. An amateur might not be able to tell the difference but Eiji had become a kind of connoisseur of cop frowns. There was the bored frown, the I'm watching you frown, the your wife/husband/kids are dead frown, the you're dead if you don't drop it frown, the grim frown of impending doom and the media knows too damn much and they have us by our hairy balls frown, replete with eye twitch from Captain Itou. Oh boy, oh boy. This was going to be bad.
Superintendent Uramura gestured for everyone to sit and everyone did, except Eiji, who had gone from respectful to snot nosed new kid by a gesture. The air was soon filled with the globes of cams, hovering on their stronger magnetic bases and looking like miniature Death Stars as they hovered in the air.
Eiji toggled his own little black mini-cam and it rose, perhaps not so high but he shifted it until it was directly in line from the podium. The video might be crap but it was the audio he really wanted. Once everything was in place, he turned his attention to the podium and waited in the stillness for Uramura to speak.
Saitoh
Uramura smiled and nodded slightly, motioning for the press corps to be seated. The air was packed with globe cams, the combined machinery creating a soft background hum that contrasted sharply with the far too quiet audience. The press was poised as were their pens, cameras, recorders and tablets, an entire room of hard-eyed journalists leaning forward in grim anticipation, ready to pounce on the first duly appointed police representative who opened his mouth.
He glanced at Saitoh out of the corner of this eye. The Major, his newest Superintendent was looking straight ahead. A muscle in the man's locked jaw was ticking slightly. It was a non-verbal tell that he'd seen on a few other occasions, usually before the officer was about to use deadly force.
(This should prove interesting…) Uramura thought to himself as he began speaking.
"I would like to thank you all for attending this press conference and apologize for the short notice."
He paused, allowing the press to adjust their machinery for the best possible audio/visual recording based on his height and vocal modulations. It was common courtesy and he was nothing, if not courteous.
"While it is not common practice for the New Meiji Metropolitan Police Department to comment on an active, ongoing investigation, in light of certain developments concerning this morning's televised intercept, I believe that the public at large deserves an explanation of what occurred and what, if any, steps the department intends to take to ensure that all appropriate and reasonable actions are taken to see this case to its proper conclusion."
He looked down at the front row. There were several family members of the dead officers in attendance. Some were weeping and pressing handkerchiefs against their red, swollen eyes. Two children were openly sobbing, much to the delight of the press corps, who never failed to hone in on a good photo opportunity. Other family members, Umagoe's father in particular, were being loud and demonstrative in their grief and had already given statements to the press, praising the courage and skill of the dead officers and demanding that the killer, who was still at large, be brought to justice.
"On behalf of the entire department, please accept our sincere and heartfelt condolences during this difficult time," he said, modulating his voice so that it was kind and sympathetic. "We deeply mourn the loss of our officers and friends." He waited for the weeping and sniffling sounds to diminish and then continued.
"We will do everything that we can to make things right and I believe that this path must start out with complete transparency about what occurred earlier this morning in the lower districts of our fine, fine city."
The press perked up since historically the only thing transparent at a press conference was the understanding that the truth was going to be in very short supply.
"Today's conference will be conducted by the New Superintendent of our Criminal Investigations Department. Major Saitoh Hajime has been tasked with leading this investigation and ensuring that some good comes from this terrible tragedy. He will make a brief statement regarding the investigation, disclose the steps that our precinct is taking to address any possible procedural oversight and then will open the conference to any press questions. This conference will conclude at precisely 14:00 hours, so please be mindful of the time." He gave the room another bland smile, adjusted his glasses a little, and then motioned for Saitoh to take over.
Saitoh
(I should have worn waders to this debacle...) Saitoh inwardly cursed as he stood up and walked over to the podium. (…as I am hip deep in bureaucratic horseshit)
Uramura's nausea inducing diatribe was sugary enough to give half the press corps adult onset diabetes and put the other half in a boredom induced coma. The podium was too short, the microphones not set for someone of his height. A courteous man would have waited and allowed technicians to adjust and fuss for a few minutes. Saitoh inwardly smirked. When it came to the press in general, his courtesy had always been somewhat lacking.
"At 05:00 hours a tactical intercept squad comprised of officers from the Second Tactical Squadron was assigned to apprehend an unnamed suspect. This suspect has been charged with theft of police property, evading arrest and is wanted for questioning about his role in a recent episode of gang related activity which resulted in the murder of an innocent citizen and the deaths of several known, mid-ranking syndicate members."
"Contrary to police procedure, this intercept was leaked to members of the press who took it upon themselves to accompany a tactical attack squad to the suspected hideout of an armed and dangerous suspect." Saitoh's opinion of such moronic behavior could not have been more clearly stated. "You have already seen some of the footage from that encounter. However the material already in media circulation is incomplete and has been heavily edited by various news agencies to suit their respective agendas. "
Uncaring that he'd just insulted half of the room, Saitoh continued, "The public deserves to know exactly what occurred this morning, which is why we are releasing the complete unedited footage during this conference." There were gasps in the room, several of outrage from the four news agencies who had just wasted tens of millions in exclusivity fees, which of course, had been the general idea from the get go.
"Due to the graphic nature of this footage, I urge responsible members of the media (which is an oxymoron of the highest magnitude) to exercise care when rebroadcasting this material to the general public and to abide by local and regional broadcasting regulations pertaining to explicit content."
Saitoh looked down at the front row, his amber eyes fixing on the two small children huddled up against a recently widowed woman. They were perhaps a little older than his Tsutomu and Tsuyoshi. "Any minors under the age of 18, by law are not allowed to view this content and will need to leave the room. I would recommend that family members also carefully consider whether this is the appropriate venue to view this material."
"These children should stay and see that their father died a hero!" A handsome, grey haired man rudely interrupted. It was Umagoe's father. (Why am I not surprised?) He was well dressed, sporting a black mourning band on his arm, along with the rest of the dead Captain's family. "Why should any of us fear to see our sons, brothers and husbands laying down their lives for the good of Japan? Their brave blood…"
"Did I give you permission to speak?" Saitoh's voice was lethally quiet, his expression terminally polite. The politician shook his head slightly. "I thought not. Interrupt me again and I will have you escorted from the building."
Umagoe's father's face paled and without another word, sat stiffly down, his nostrils quivering with an unflattering mixture of fear and indignation.
"Ryoto-san, please escort your children outside," The difference in his tone was surprising as he motioned for the black clad widow to get up and take her weeping children with her. To his unspoken relief, several other family members also left. He'd seen the upcoming footage and knew that the families of the dead officers would find no closure from seeing how their loved ones passed from this life to the next.
Once he was satisfied that the room was cleared of minors, but was still filled to the brim with morons, Saitoh nodded and motioned for a technician to dim the lights. A ceiling mounted projector turned on automatically and within seconds the raw footage was being replayed.
As far as film quality went, the footage was decidedly lacking. Saitoh didn't bother turning his head to watch. He'd studied the recording in Umagoe's office and that had been enough. His attention was on the audience, on how various members of the press, the administration and particularly the police officers who were in attendance would react to what they were about to see.
Umagoe and his men had been in fine spirits, literally. The press corps watched as on duty officers drank as they rode on a convoy vehicle to the intercept site. The officers bragged loudly, so sure of their success and skill. No warrants were provided to the building owner as the men moved inside the building, an act that automatically excluded any obtained evidence from being admissible in a court of law. Some members of the press immediately picked up on this; others could care less about due process.
"You ready for some fun?" Umagoe leered, twirling an epi-pen in his gloved fingers, his grin already on the manic side of the spectrum. Saitoh watched the faces of the officers in the press room as one of their own injected an illegal drug into his blood stream, and began to shake and salivate heavily from the potency of the hit, the whites of the man's eyes becoming visible, even in the low light of the stairwell.
When the storage room door opened, the room went dead silent. A young woman, poorly dressed perhaps, but clearly attractive and absolutely unarmed could be seen, standing in the doorway. Backlit by what appeared to be a small heating lamp; her face was half hidden in shadow. Sharp gasps of horror and outrage from the audience were heard when a laser sight tracked up the woman's slender body and fixed itself on her chest.
She backed up, lifted her hands as if to surrender, horror and fear etching into her beautiful features. "No!" she cried. She sounded young. Terrified. The woman tried to shut the door, but it was too late. "Please! Don't do…" There was a burst of light as an energy round was illegally discharged from a rifle. A gaping hole appeared in the middle of her chest and a small spray of blood erupted from her half open mouth, and a larger wave of crimson splashed hot and thin against the back of the wall. Already dead, the woman's mangled body slammed into the wet wall and slid down, her head lolling lifelessly to the side.
Mishima_Eiji
This was big news. And almost too much news for him to handle. He'd been right, though, that had been one hell of a promotion, though the why still lingered. Well that would be answered, he was sure, either by direct questioning by someone else or intuition. Not really important enough a question. He crossed that off his list.
Eiji snorted at Satioh-san's insult. Of course the stories were spun to fit agendas. That's what the news did. Point of fact that was what the police did, too. Eiji had been to enough of these to pick out the maneuverings, the carefully hidden pockets of the truth not said. Even this 'transparency' was a subterfuge. The police had gotten caught. The intercept had been a disaster. They were culling off the weak- and perhaps, drug using, E cops to save the respect of the rest of the department. To make the people of New Meiji believe they were winning this war. Which, judging by the statistics, was complete and utter bullshit.
Anyway, the suspect was interesting. Theft of police property and all that. "Ken"? Eiji scribbled. Super-Samurai. That Jiro kid was on some pretty strong stuff of his own. Eiji smirked at the gasp of an outraged press and felt a sort of pride that Saitoh-san had the gall to make everyone hate him. It took a strong guy to do that. Though the smirk didn't last for long as a woman drew a harsh shuddering breath. They had lost people dear to them. Eiji set his mouth in a straight line and tried not to let it get to him. Deaths were always hard. Listening to that grief was even worse. He'd been at the edges of more police funerals than press conferences, and more than that, those of the innocent. New Meiji was a dying city.
Eiji pressed his lips together as the man yelled at Saitoh to let his grandchildren see the graphic footage, and then stepped aside so the woman could herd the children out. He tried not to look at them. Their eyes red. A few others left. Eiji could see all their faces, pale as they came toward him, eyes averted. Another young child, a sullen teenager, who looked ready to burst into tears, an old man, shaking with palsy, his eyes hollow and haunted as if he'd seen enough of this kind of stuff to last him into the next life.
Once they were gone, the lights dimmed and pretty much killed Eiji's note-taking ability. So really, all he could do was watch. He threw back his shoulders, lifted his head and planted his gaze firmly on the screen, not wanting to miss a second.
If the news at the press conference was hard to take, the raw footage was harder. It looked almost like they had filmed a drama accidentally, replete with the sinister drug addled cops, the pale innocent maiden and then:
Blam!
Eiji flinched at the rifle shot, watching her sail across the room, hit the wall. For a long moment there was nothing but silence as she slid down, her eyes seeing nothing.
"Pity, huh?" Umagoe said, his voice sharp and acerbic. There was an angry grunt from the front of the room, but nothing more.
"I hope you paid the-"
And then another voice, hard to hear, coming from the shadows and sending a chill stabbing down Eiji's spine.
"Your life is already forfeit. As for the rest of you, I'll return the tablet. But if you plan to fight I'll show you no mercy."
"Oh my god," someone said, and Eiji could only nod in agreement, his mouth dry. There was something in that tone. Utterly without fear. Utterly without anything except... He bumped into something and startled but realized it was the wall.
Pull it together, Mishima! he told himself. You're too old to be scared by boogey men. He straightened, bringing the mini-cam down to preserve power and because he really didn't want to stream the footage anyway. Not with the woman lying with her dead black eyes, and the voice.
And a voice seemed like that was all he was. There was a shot and Eiji thought the man was dead but then Umagoe was, and there was only a smudge on camera and then a shape in the shadows. And then things went to hell. There was screaming. One cop lifted the gun to his companion's face and, almost in slow motion, pulled the trigger.
Someone in the room screamed and Eiji jolted again, then moved to the side as a shuddering woman was half escorted, half held up, by the pale officer by her side. The press wanted the truth and they got it. They got it in freaking spades and it wasn't easy. The truth was never easy. Which was why it was so important.
The slaughter was finished almost as soon as it was started, leaving one young officer trembling and crying on the doorstep. Eiji tore his gaze away from that grainy figure, and then there was the shape of the person, assassin, thing, shadow of a monster, talking to someone, in a low voice. Eiji had to strain to hear. Talking about METAL and AMP, getting it out of the men, and Saitoh...
He knew Saitoh.
And then it clicked. Umagoe was gone. Saitoh had obviously been sent to fill his position but why? Unless...unless the police suspected that the drug problem ran deeper than just a couple of cops.
"Idiots!" Eiji hissed, wishing he could scribble it down, but he didn't need to. The fact was burned into his brain. The shadow came closer; there was a gleam of yellow eyes as if he wasn't quite human. The phone was handed off and the door shut.
That didn't matter. The assassin was a problem, yes, but only a small rock compared to the big freaking boulder of police using soldier drugs. Holy hell. The lights came on and the room was silent as if everyone was trying to absorb just what the hell had just happened.
"Was that a warning or an experiment?" Eiji said, his own voice sounding whip sharp in the stillness and bending the hell out of protocol, but he didn't give a damn. "Because the fact is normal cops can't keep up with AMPs and you know it. Is this the future of our city?"
Blunt-nose cop grabbed him roughly by the arm and started dragging him toward the door. He didn't care. Even if he couldn't hear the answer, Saitoh-san would have to give one. The truth would get out, no matter how many corpses or careers it had to claw through to get there.
Saitoh
Once the media feed had been terminated and the lights were back on, Saitoh stood back up and walked slowly back to the too short podium. Saitoh ignored the young man who began hollering questions out of turn (though he did motion to the officer that the boy could stay). He was young (vaguely familiar) and had asked some good questions, questions that needed to be answered in due time. Saitoh also ignored a different reporter who had fainted in the back and a lawyer from Human Resources who looked like he was three seconds shy of throwing up…then promptly made good on the threat and vomited noisily into a wastebasket before being escorted quickly outside.
The amber eyed officer glanced briefly down at the front row. It was nearly empty now, since most of the family members had bolted from the room once the footage began. Umagoe's father was still there, but his proud mien was gone and he sat stunned, tears running down his cheeks. It had been this man's ego-driven machinations which had ensured that the press had been present at his son's intercept - a terrible error in judgment that would have far reaching consequences, not only for the police department but for the justice minister as well. Scandals of this magnitude were career killers. (Good Riddance) Saitoh thought to himself, disinclined to feel any pity for the politician who'd put his desire for power and good press before all else and was now paying the price.
After waiting for a moment for the room to calm down, Saitoh lightly flicked the podium microphone with his finger, sending a high pitched, grating reverberation signal that kind of reminded him of the sound that Karen made when she laughed. It had the desired effect, focusing the collective attention back on the issue at hand.
"At this time, we do not have any identifiable information on the deceased woman. We believe that her remains were taken by the subject to a still unknown location. If you recognize this woman, please notify the authorities so that we can attempt to find and contact her family. The suspect's whereabouts are also still unknown but the department is currently investigating several leads regarding his whereabouts."
There had been phone calls from baffled citizens describing a red haired man "flying" from building to building and one caller had also described seeing a long haired woman on a stairwell with a short red haired man and reported that the woman had been screaming as if she was being tortured. The fact that these calls came from a bad neighborhood, saturated with drug use, didn't lend much credibility to the claims, nor did basic science. Saitoh had watched the shot tear through the woman's sternum and exit squarely through her spine. The blood spatters and the degree of blood left at the scene of the murder were of such a degree that it was patently impossible for anyone to have survived.
"This is a composite sketch of the suspect based on descriptions given to the police," Saitoh nodded and a technician projected an image onto the screen that showed the front and side profile of a slender, red haired man wearing a leather jacket, a jacket that was currently bagged as evidence and sitting in his office. "The suspect is an Asian male, approximately 1.6 meters in height and weighing between 50-55 kilograms. He has an alias of 'Ken'. His eye color has been described as amber. His hair is a dark reddish brown."
"The suspect was shot in the shoulder yesterday and may be seeking out medical attention. He is armed with a sword, a katana to be precise and has received training on how to use such a weapon. He is also in possession of a stolen police tablet and personal items that were allegedly taken from the body of a syndicate member who was killed during yesterday's altercation at the Sunshine Café."
Saitoh motioned to the composite sketch. "It goes without saying that this suspect is armed and extremely dangerous. If you encounter this individual please notify the authorities and do not, under any circumstance decide that you have the skills to restrain this man until the police arrive. You don't."
Without missing a beat, Saitoh moved on to the second part of the briefing.
"At this time, we are confirming the deaths of Captain Fujimori Umagoe, Commander Miyura Ryoto, Lt. Commander Tokuda Yoshi, and Officer Sato Kouta. Official coroner reports are still pending and will be released at a later date. On behalf of the entire New Meiji Police Force, I offer my sincere condolences to the families of these officers. Officer Ishigura Hayao suffered minor injuries during the intercept and is currently receiving medical treatment. He is actively assisting with this investigation and has provided us with additional details surrounding the intercept."
Saitoh did not mention that the officer was assisting with the investigation from a comfortable room in a hospital psych unit, where he was under careful observation and was already showing signs of a serious case of PTSD.
"Initial toxicology reports confirm what you already saw in the unedited footage, that all the deceased officers tested positive for illicit drugs, specifically a hybridized meta-amphetamine, more commonly referred as METAL. It goes without saying that illicit drug use of any sort is absolutely prohibited and will not be tolerated."
"In light of this information, I have ordered that the following actions be taken, effective immediately for all employees of the Criminal Investigations Division. All employees are required to submit to drug tests, conducted and reviewed by an impartial, certified testing agency. Ongoing, random drug testing will also be enforced going forward. If an officer or employee tests positive for a controlled substance, they will be immediately relieved of duty and placed on disciplinary probation pending an investigation. If the investigation proves intentional drug usage, then their employment will be terminated."
Saitoh's voice dropped, becoming more of a menacing growl, "Any employee who is found to be in possession of any illicit drugs with the intent to use, sell or disperse said narcotics will be arrested and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. There will be NO exceptions to this policy. I will provide, via our public relations and human resource departments auditable reports that will be available to the general public that list pass and fail rates, broken down by units, squadrons and the entire department."
A reporter's globe cam suddenly failed and dropped rather unceremoniously down upon another journalist's head. Saitoh waited for a moment, thankful for a momentary break. There was additional information that he had to provide the press corps, intelligence that he was not remotely happy about having to disclose.
"We have already begun an internal investigation regarding this incident and have uncovered that all of the officers participating in today's altercation also were recipients of a significant funds transfer to their personal banking accounts early this morning, approximately 30 minutes before the scheduled start of the intercept. We are tracing the transfers and have already issued subpoenas to the issuing bank so that we may determine the income source of these deposits. Initial audits reveal that the funding sources came from known syndicate accounts. These accounts have been frozen and will remain in such a state until the account owners can clearly demonstrate that the transfers were legal."
"Effective this morning, all division employees will be required to submit a financial disclosure statement. This statement will include bank and investment records for the last fiscal year. Any employee who is proven to have submitted or received any payments to or from a criminal organization, drug manufacturer or known syndicate front will be immediately suspended and if sufficient proof is present to suggest collaboration, will be arrested and aggressively prosecuted. As with the drug testing, there will be no exceptions to this policy and reports will be made to the public disclosing the financial integrity of this division."
The room had grown deadly quiet again. The inference of course was that the men had been paid right before engaging in an intercept while under the influence of solider class drugs, that today's debacle had been financed by some entity who either wanted to damage the reputation of the police, or see how effective using ability enhancing narcotics were to law enforcement officials who were struggling to keep the streets safe.
Saitoh's eyes fixed for a second on the young man who'd blurted out this very thing. His timing had been poor and his tone rather shrill, but the questions he'd asked were ones that Saitoh knew he had to answer. Saitoh suspected that the latter rather than the former scenario was correct. This had been an experiment, one that had gone horribly wrong, thank the Gods. The idea of a drug addicted police force was repellent and dangerous and could not, would not be entertained…not if he had any say in the matter.
(This will cause a war… ) Saitoh conceded to the red haired menace, who had gone and bloodily complicated his life in the present, just as he had in the past. (A war that we won't be able to win)
"It would be easy and convenient for me to stand up here and tell you that that the moronic, criminal behavior of a few individuals was an isolated event and that the incident has been resolved." Saitoh said quietly. He felt weary, angry and deeply disappointed. "That would be a lie and I will not insult you or myself by engaging in such behavior. What I can say with certainty is that this department and the men and women who serve in it will not rest until a complete reckoning has been given to the public and that we can ensure that the trust we have been given is not misplaced and that justice is done. Additional conferences will be provided and all material updates will be made available to the public."
One of the technicians in the back announced that there was ten minutes remaining until the conclusion of the press conference.
Saitoh nodded and looked out at the press corps. "I will now take your questions."
Mishima Eiji
Eiji was glad, though slightly surprised, when blunt-nose let him go. To be fair, she didn't seem happy about it and looked as if she would have liked to plant her shiny shoe against his backside. She soon found her hands full, though, as she had to escort the vomiting man from the premises. Eiji tried not to look at him too hard and swallowed convulsively.
He stared at the slender man in the composite sketch, expression neutral but eyes staring out, yellow and inhuman. It looked more like a fairy tale monster than an actual person. Except that he'd seen those eyes before, staring from the dark, they all had. Like demons really were real. He shuddered, feeling like cold water was being dumped on his gut. He wiped his damp palm dry against his jeans, activated his mini cam which whirred upward and took out his pen to write a few notes.
Saitoh-san was giving condolences to the family. Reaction that would be mixed, Eiji had a feeling. Some people would feel proud-patriotic, and others probably disgusted by such respectful treatment of those who were no better than the AMP heads that terrorized the lower districts. But the families were innocent, as far as he knew, and had probably lost their loved ones the day the METAL took over. Eiji tried to keep his hand steady.
The story was revealed in bits and pieces, interrupted only when a mag base failed and a cam dropped on a European reporter's head, causing some chaos and a flurry of apology. Once the international incident had been averted, the officer continued. He was cleaning up the police force. The drugs had come from some other syndicate and the police had tracked wire transfers. That all pointed to something not authorized.
Or something Saitoh didn't know had been authorized. It could be the rabbit hole went deeper than even he knew. All Eiji knew was that drugs were like cockroaches in this city. Where there was one, there was an infestation, in the cabinets, inside the walls, festering, breeding.
Then Saitoh-san asked for questions and the cracking tension of the room split wide open. Reporters bolted to their feet, asking one question after another, frantic for answers, for a scoop, for some kind of good news even. A few Eiji picked out over the din:
"Which syndicate did the funds come from?"
"What is being done to catch the assassin?"
"Who might the assassin be - and why hasn't he been caught yet?"
Well that was obvious, they'd seen the speed. He had to be on a soldier drug himself. That was the only answer. Something stronger than METAL because they'd shot at him. An A class maybe. He swallowed. But if that was the case... Wait... Hold on.
Eiji looked up just as one man yammered:
"Is it true you're having an affair with a Department of Justice employee?" What the hell difference did that make? Eiji shook his head and raised his hand, again staring right at Saitoh. He had a question but he didn't think that anyone would like the answer.
Saitoh
Saitoh's expression which he'd managed to keep almost neutral during the briefing took on a decidedly irritated cast when the questions started popping off like gunfire from a semi-automatic.
Which syndicate did the funds come from?
"The accounts have been tied to a front believed to be used by the Nezumi Syndicate." The reporter asked a quick follow up question. Saitoh barely resisted rolling his eyes at the thought and care that had gone into it. "No, they are not cooperating with the investigation."
What is being done to catch the assassin?
"The department is aggressively investigating several leads pertaining to the subject's whereabouts and interviewing witnesses from yesterday's altercation and today's intercept."
Of course, one headgear sporting witness refused to talk, stating that the waiter had saved his life and was a good man, despite being threatened with being charged with interfering with a police investigation. The other was currently on medication, rocking back and forth and muttering some nonsense about glowing yellow eyes. The only other witness, other than himself, was a certain prosecuting attorney. She'd already been grilled by the police the day before and her statement was already on file and being examined.
Who might the assassin be - and why hasn't he been caught yet?
"The suspect was wearing a name nag with the moniker of 'KEN'. We don't know if this is an alias or the man's name. So far, no one matching the suspect has shown up in any database searches and his DNA is not on file with the ID registry."
This was news in and of itself. Everyone was registered, their DNA neatly cataloged and parsed from the moment of birth. Historically, governments used numbers to identify a citizen, now they used a unique genetic blueprint that could not be duplicated.
"As for why he's not been caught yet..." Saitoh shrugged slightly. "He has two things in his favor. Unnatural speed and the fact that he's one man in a city of nearly forty million people who has gone into hiding."
Is it true you're having an affair with a Department of Justice employee?
(Ten guesses where that comment came from...and the first nine don't count) Umagoe had apparently sent notices out to more than one reporter. What a useless twit. Hadn't he already caused enough trouble?
"No," Saitoh snorted, "Do you have any questions to ask that require the use of brain cells?"
The reporter looked at him rather owlishly for a minute.
"I thought not." Saitoh did roll his eyes and pointed to the young man in the corner who had his hand up like he was in school and was looking right at him.
"Go ahead."
Mishima Eiji
It was kind of weird to be pointed at and to be so directly addressed. A feeling that Eiji couldn't quite understand. Saitoh-san over e-mail was one thing, but in person everything was just off kilter, especially when the man was staring straight at him. Geeze. Still, the question needed to be asked.
"How do you propose to even catch this guy?" Eiji said. "Ji...a witness said that he'd mown down most of the guys in the diner even though they had guns. Even police using illicit drugs can't even stop him. I mean we all heard Umagoe take a shot at him. If he can dodge that bullet, what can the police really do to take him down?"
The room had quieted at that and now most of the room was staring at Saitoh, cams hovering, ready to take down any word that would fall from his mouth. Eiji swallowed again and held his pen over the notepad.
Saitoh
Saitoh nodded, it was a fair question and a hell of a lot more thoughtful than what had come out of the previous idiot's mouth. His eyes narrowed fractionally when the young man nearly gave away the name of someone he'd spoken with, seriously doubting that it was coincidence that the first two letters of the reporter's source and the first two letters of his reluctant witness just happened to match.
(Interesting...someone has been doing their homework)
"We'll deal with this man the same way that we deal with the other drug users and murderers that plague this city," Saitoh said firmly, not liking the quasi-mystical attributes that were being used to describe a man who had taken the lives of seven human beings in the last 24 hours.
"He's not invincible, despite the drugs he's taking. He's a human being, one who was seriously wounded in yesterday's firefight and who will, out of necessity, soon be forced to seek out medical attention unless he wants to die from his injuries."
Mishima Eiji
"But he's not just another drug user, is he?" Eiji said, the thoughts coming so fast he could barely keep up with them. "He isn't. He couldn't be. He saved the witness didn't he? And he didn't kill the fifth officer..." Name, name he needed a name.
"He has more control. He has an agenda. What do you think it is, Saitoh-san? Also, if he can fight that well while he was injured, what makes you think you can take him down? Doesn't a trapped rat fight the hardest?"
Eiji realized he was babbling and shut up. Good questions. Yes. But if he asked all of them now everyone and their mother would scoop the hell out of him. Still what was asked was asked and his hand trembled as it hovered over the notepad.
This was bigger than big. This was the great mystery. Thousands of questions jumbled against his skull and none of them were easy to answer.
Saitoh
Saitoh quirked up a narrow eyebrow. Apparently the Battousai (the name had been applicable after all) had a bit of a defender in this reporter.
"Should I congratulate the man for his fine sense of self control because he only slaughtered four men instead of five?" Saitoh asked seriously. "Is that what you're suggesting?"
Saitoh shook his head, "At best, we're dealing with a well trained swordsman who has taken it upon himself to be some sort of inner-city vigilante. At worst, we're dealing with a highly skilled serial killer. Neither of these states is celebratory, I can assure you."
The last thing that he needed was people thinking that taking hits of a chemical Molotov cocktail was admirable or beneficial. There was nothing to be gained from a life of addiction. Nothing at all.
Another reporter's hand went up. Saitoh motioned for him to speak.
"The suspect called you. How did he get your phone number?"
"He used the cell phone of the Squadron Captain. My number was on speed dial, per standard operating procedure."
"It's been reported that the Captain, Umagoe, didn't like you very much. Can you confirm or deny this?"
"Most people don't like me very much. Why should he be different? Next question."
"Why did you allow the suspect to escape Sunday? Could it be, Superintendent, that you are in collaboration with this individual?"
Saitoh peered down at the reporter who had asked such a profoundly silly question. "I was also wounded during the altercation at the cafe and was unfortunately too busy trying not to bleed to death to chase after him."
The technician in the back of the room announced that the press conference had concluded. Saitoh schooled his expression, trying not to show that he was relieved it was over. After providing the press with the correct spelling of his name and rank, and giving them the links for a conference transcript, he gave the audience a perfunctory yet technically polite bow, and stepped away from the podium so that Uramura could make his closing comments.
Mishima Eiji
Eiji's face flushed with heat. That bastard. That wasn't what he'd been saying at all! Just because he'd sensed a kind of hidden motivation didn't mean he supported the man. How could he? Anyone who would take the life of another wasn't worth supporting, no matter what he did it for. But if he was a vigilante, then that meant something entirely different, didn't it? And whatever he was, Saitoh had dodged the question. He didn't know how they were going to handle it. He was as clueless as the rest of them.
Eiji listened to the other questions, not as important, and then called back his mini-cam as Saitoh left the podium and put it in his jacket pocket. Whatever Uramura said didn't matter. He went past the blunt-nose cop and zipped up his coat as he went outside.
Then on a whim, and probably a stupid one, he took out his phone and texted the number Saitoh had texted him once:
[I'm for the law. It can at least be held accountable if nothing else. But the people of New Meiji aren't so rational. They're going to support who they feel can protect them. You had better step up your game or step up PR because once vigilante priviatism hits, it will be chaos]
Saitoh
"Superintendent?"
Saitoh heard a reporter, a female (or a man who'd had met with a seriously nasty industrial accident) by the sound of the voice following him and kept walking. His phone buzzed. Someone had texted him.
"Major?"
In no mood to make any more official statements than he already had, he turned the corner and headed outside, wanting to get out of the damn building and away from the crowd of reporters that was still pressing for answers.
"Saitoh-san? Please, may I speak with you?"
(Dammit) Saitoh scowled, his case of cigarettes halfway out of his pocket and turned around. "The press conference is over," he said firmly, but politely. Contrary to popular belief he had not been raised by a pack of wolves and could, if pressed, be almost civil to the press as long as they extended the same courtesy to him. If not, all bets were off.
"I know…but I was hoping that you'd be kind enough to answer just a couple of questions?" The female reporter was an American if he placed her accent correctly and as ballsy and brash as the other press he'd dealt with from her country. She smiled brightly at him when he rebuffed her request and provided her with the web mail address for the public relations department. Undaunted, she walked slowly over to where he was standing, casually brushing her long blonde hair back in what he suspected was a practiced maneuver to get a man to start talking. Unfortunately for the reporter, he was very partial to dark haired women (one in particular) and not inclined to let a pretty face fool him into forgetting that this was a member of the press with an agenda.
"You're very by the book, aren't you?" she said with a pout.
He didn't smile back and took out a cigarette, tapping it on the case. "You have no idea." He lit up, and took a drag as he pulled out his phone and looked at the text message, finally linking a name to a face since the number of reporters that had actually ever received a non -scripted message from him was in the single digits. Despite getting a bit carried away with the moment, the young man had asked some tough questions. Saitoh considered the message, then texted a short reply back.
SECURE AND ENCRYPTED TXT MSG:
START
Good to know you have a measure of common sense. Yes, a "step up" and not one of the PR variety is required to ensure that the public's trust is not compromised any more than it already has been. You asked some tough questions today. Keep it up. Keep us honest.
H. Saitoh
END
Saitoh sent the message with a smirk, wondering if the young man knew how rare such a response from him was.
"What are you smiling about?"
Saitoh looked over at the reporter. "That, Madam, would be for me to know, and for you to wonder about."
"You're not nice at all, Superintendent." She giggled. He hated giggling.
"No, I'm not," he said thinly, annoyed that she wasn't taking the hint and leaving him alone.
"I like that in a man," the reporter said teasingly.
"Why am I not surprised," Saitoh muttered as he took another drag "May I suggest you consider therapy? Sounds like you need it." He turned his back on the reporter and walked down the steps that led down from the main DOJ complex to the street. He needed to walk and think and make sense of what had transpired this morning, to say nothing of come to terms what had happened the night before.
Mishima Eiji
Eiji stood on the street corner, considering hailing a taxi, then remembered his wallet and went for the bus instead. That had gone...he didn't even know what to think. He was surprised he'd gotten as far as he did but the truth. Oh man the truth. Just when he thought he didn't want to know more about New Meiji. Just when he thought the drugs and the violence wasn't enough there was this.
He turned his collar up against the wind and pushed a hand through his hair, feeling the mini-cam bump against his hip. There was so much wrong with this society. He stopped at a crosswalk, watching the people flow on the other side of the street. Oblivious here in this part of the city, they could afford to be. Cellphones in every hand. A couple of cute girls walking arm in arm. Did they know they were being watched over by a corrupt police force that could barely keep its head above water? No. And that's what made them happy, he guessed, but they could also end up dead.
Except now, shit what was he supposed to do with it? The light turned green and Eiji crossed the street. He couldn't spin the story, but depressing a city of people, okay well 700 people and whoever bothered to read the ones he left around the city, that- it just seemed cruel. Especially when there was no answer. The choice was between a murdering psychopath and the city's police force and these days you couldn't even tell the difference!
He was nearing the bus stop when his phone buzzed. Probably Lee-san again about Chi. He didn't want to walk Chi. Or, rather be walked by Chi. No wonder she couldn't get another dog walker. He flipped open his phone and saw it was from Saitoh. Probably something snarky. It was always something sna-
Eiji read it.
And read it again.
And sat down on the bench.
It was a compli- Keep them honest.
"Oh man that is so cool!" he didn't realize he'd said it aloud until a woman next to him gave him an odd look. Well okay. Okay. Calm, Mishima, breathe. Yes it was cool. But it was also his duty to tell the truth. To keep the police honest. And that was what he would do...and...well who knew?
Maybe they didn't have a solution now but maybe they would discover one.
And they needed to.
For everyone's sake.
Saitoh
"Hajime, wait!"
Saitoh stopped and waited until the voice's owner was standing beside him.
"You got a minute?" Much like the reporter, Saitoh knew that the newly promoted Captain Watanabe was not going to take no for an answer. Unlike the reporter, she had his respect and therefore was worth speaking to.
He nodded and they began to walk down the street, the short grey haired woman and tall man looking decidedly mismatched.
"I'd offer my congratulations…."
"Save your breath," Saitoh finished his cigarette, and tossed it, smashing the smoldering butt on the concrete. "I find no pleasure in the promotion. Do you?"
She gave him a rueful smile. "Never thought I'd make Captain, especially of the Third Squadron."
Saitoh began walking again. "I wouldn't have recommended you if I had any doubts as to your competence."
"Why didn't you let Uramura assign me to the Second?"
Saitoh shrugged. Umagoe's squadron was going to be purged, a task that he was far better suited for.
"Did you think I couldn't handle it?" Watanabe pressed.
"No, you moron, I didn't want you to have to handle it. There's a difference." Saitoh growled.
Watanabe motioned towards a side street. "You eaten yet today?" She rolled her eyes when the tall man shrugged again. "Come on. I'm starving and you're being uncommonly pissy. Let's snag us some soba and figure out next steps." Her voice modulator dropped in volume. "I also have an update regarding the bombing last night. The news isn't good."
Saitoh nodded and they made their way to a skivvy looking dive of a noodle shop. While the place looked like the sort of dump where catching Hepatitis was a given, the food was actually amazing and the prices fair.
Once seated in the back (Saitoh was a regular and the owners knew that the man liked to sit in the far left corner with his back to the wall) Karen started filling in the details that Saitoh had been waiting for.
"We found an IED at Takagi's, triggered to go off at the entrance." She said, "Military grade, down to the wiring and pressure plates."
Saitoh frowned, his fury from the night before, still simmering at a low boil. "How long to secure the residence?"
Karen thought about it for a minute. "It's going to take me a few more days to really lock the place down. And it's going to be expensive." Normally they were able to help other officers cover some of the expenses for their physical security, but Takagi was not on the police payroll and the security system that Karen had in mind was not on the economical side of the spectrum. "Who's going to foot the bill?"
"Send it to her fucking brother," Saitoh snarled, "He sent his sister to New Meiji without proper protection. He gets to deal with the goddamn consequences." He leaned back in the ratty booth, resting his aching body against the half rotted fabric backing. "He'll pay up. The man knows he's damn lucky he's not burying her."
"How is Takagi-san?" Karen asked, keeping her expression neutral.
"Sore. Bruised. Still pretty shaken over what happened last night."
"She has every reason to be," Karen replied firmly, hoping that the thick skulled man would take the hint and understand that he also had cause for concern. "Do you want her to come and stay with me until her home is secure?"
Saitoh thought about this for several minutes while he smoked another cigarette. Finally, having finished, crushing the still glowing butt in an ashtray, he exhaled slowly, the last bit of cigarette smoke clearing his nostrils. "No, she's welcome to remain where she is."
While he could come up with a list of logical, unemotional reasons about why the current set up was preferable to other arrangements, the simple fact of the matter was that he didn't want her to leave. (It's not your choice, Moron) he sternly reminded himself, ignoring a part of him that wished the opposite was true. She was free to do as she wished and if she wanted to go somewhere else he really had no say in the matter, did he? "I'll extend to her your offer as well, however."
"I see," Karen nodded, not entirely surprised. Minato had told her about the armor fitting and shooting session and Karen, mindful of the need to keep Saitoh's private life private, had pulled the tapes from the night before, up until the point that the odd power surge had caused the cameras to go offline. While she hadn't listened to the audio, she'd skimmed over the visual recording, looking for and thankfully finding nothing that could be considered incriminating behavior from either the officer or the attorney. Had she found something, she would have erased it and to hell with the consequences.
(He cares about her – far more than he's led me to believe, the sneaky little shit!) Seeing him touch and hold the woman made Karen happy. It meant her friend was finally letting go of the guilt and grief that had nearly consumed him after Yaso's death and trying to live again. Takagi seemed like a good woman (Saitoh wouldn't allow her to stay in the same house as his children if she wasn't) and had already proven to the older woman that she had the skill and the nerve to properly watch over the tall police officer.
"I thought you might say that, which is why I took the liberty of packing up some clothes and toiletries for her and put the suitcase in the trunk of your car." Karen didn't mention that she'd left a note in the suitcase as well for the younger woman, with her contact information and some intel that she suspected the attorney might find useful.
Saitoh glanced over at his former second in command. There were times he was very glad that Karen Watanabe was not criminally inclined as she had the brains to do a great deal of damage. This was one of those times. His eyes narrowed accusingly. "You don't have the keys to my car."
"Keys are seriously overrated, Superintendent," Karen said with an unrepentant grin, enjoying the fact she had discomforted her superior officer. "What did you want me to do, leave the suitcase in your office? Give it to your secretary?"
"You may have a point," Saitoh sourly conceded (making a mental note to do more research into keyless car locks) nodding in thanks as the waitress hurried over to the table and plopped down a large pot of coffee and two mugs.
"I usually do." Watanabe snipped as she looked over the dog eared menu and ordered. Once the waiter was gone she leaned across the table slightly, so her metallic voice would not carry. "So, did you kids have fun at your first sleep over?"
Saitoh gave her a glare that nearly short circuited her optical implant and finished pouring himself a cup of coffee.
"Now, that wasn't nice at all," Karen chided, "Listen, Hajime, I know you're pathetically out of practice, but this is how this is supposed to play out. You're supposed to tell me all the juicy details. I promise never to reveal said details and then promptly spread all sorts of salacious rumors throughout the department. That's the way things work in the DOJ. Have you no respect for tradition?"
"You're insane," was Saitoh's acerbic response. He took a long drink of his coffee and stared out a window, absolutely refusing to acknowledge for the rest of the meal that this almost one sided conversation was even taking place.
To see what Saitoh does next, please see the Gumi Reloaded fanfic, The Wolf at Work, that is posted to ffnet.