April 13, 2008

Misaki pushed out across the pool in a slow, lazy breast stroke. The cool water flowed smoothly across her skin and filled her ears, muffling all sound from the outside world. Not that there was much sound to muffle - her building's indoor pool was empty this early in the morning. Or was it late at night? She was having trouble keeping track anymore.

It had been weeks since she'd followed any sort of normal swimming routine; she hadn't realized how much she'd missed it. Instead of coming up for a breath on each stroke, Misaki skimmed along just under the surface for as long as she could bear, until the air burned in her lungs and a band tightening around her ribcage forced her up. She sucked in a huge lungful of air before submerging again. The pale blue of the water surrounding her, the black stripe sliding along the pool floor beneath her; that was all that existed. That, and the circling thoughts that filled her mind.

She hadn't spoken with her father since last night. As per protocol, she had recused herself from taking part in his interview. Saitou had filled her in afterward: her father had detailed an involvement that amounted to not much more than turning a blind eye, just as he'd described to her the previous night. Section Four was in the process of obtaining a search warrant for his office and condo, though there wasn't much point - he'd turned himself in. If he was in possession of anything incriminating, he would have destroyed it. Like he'd destroyed the dossier on BK-201 that he had been given. In any case, the search shouldn't take long; once it was completed he would be released on his own recognizance to await arraignment. The charges were likely to be corruption and obstruction of justice.

In the meantime, however, he was being detained in PSB headquarters' holding cell. The guilt that she felt at the thought of her father, sitting in a dirty cell while strangers combed over his personal property, was like lead in her blood, threatening to drag her down to the white tiles on the pool's bottom and keep her there, unable to come up for air.

Or maybe she was just tired; she'd slept even worse last night than she had the night before. It was the end of his career, and it was her fault. She was the one who had pushed him into confessing, had guilted him into admitting a role that was more or less inconsequential when the Syndicate was considered as a whole.

That it had been the right and just thing to do just made it worse.

Misaki reached the end of the lane; instead of turning to complete another lap, she inhaled deeply, then let herself sink to the bottom. Bubbles escaped her mouth in a glittering rush as she exhaled and settled cross-legged on the cold, polished tiles.

She was desperate to talk to her father, to apologize and beg for his forgiveness; and at the same time she was terrified to face him. But it didn't matter; contacting him now would reflect poorly on both of them. All she could do was wait.

Her diaphragm constricted painfully, but she stayed where she was, watching the last tiny air bubbles flicker in front of her eyes on their way up to the surface. Kanami had promised to call her right away if Hei's star - well, if anything happened once he reached Hong Kong. So far she hadn't heard a word; that must be good news, she supposed. Of a sort.

At last she couldn't handle it any longer. Empty lungs burning, Misaki pushed off the tiles and resurfaced with a gasp. She folded her arms on the lip of the pool and rested her head on them as water streamed from her swim cap down her face.

Another tenant had entered the pool; a young woman with a water-winged toddler in tow. Through fogged goggles Misaki watched as the woman carried her little girl down the steps in the shallow end; but when she tried to place her in the water, the girl clung tightly to her mother's neck and cried. The more the woman tried to cajole her child into letting go and floating on her own, the harder the girl cried.

Misaki watched, mind drifting, until the mother glanced up and saw her. She looked away, and with weary difficulty, hauled herself out of the pool.

~~~~o~~~~

Misaki's appointment with Superintendent Kan was at eight that morning. She stopped by her own office long enough to hang her coat and dump her purse in her desk drawer; then she headed down the hallway to the large corner office at the end. She straightened her jacket, then knocked on the door.

"Come in," a gruff voice replied.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door - and was nearly hit in the ankle by a speeding golf ball. Instinctively she trapped the ball beneath her shoe before it could roll out into the reception area.

"Good reflexes!" a genial voice exclaimed.

Kan Dai was sitting behind his desk; his slightly harassed expression told her that it wasn't he who had spoken. An elderly gentleman holding a putter stood next to the desk, smiling at Misaki.

"Sir?" she asked the superintendent in confusion.

"Come in, Kirihara," Kan said. "And shut the door behind you."

Misaki stooped to pick up the golf ball, then did as she was told. She approached the desk and bowed politely to her superior. He was a middle-aged man, who kept his growing bald patch in check with a close buzz cut; even his mustache and goatee were buzzed, framing a perpetual frown. His visitor, on the other hand, couldn't be more different. With soft white hair, tortoiseshell glasses, and deep laugh lines, the other man was a marked contrast. He looked vaguely familiar, but Misaki couldn't place him.

"Acting Director Kirihara, have you met Mr. Ito?" Kan said in a voice couldn't possibly have sounded more disinterested.

Misaki blinked, then bowed, the golf ball still clutched in her hand. "No, sir, I haven't had the pleasure."

The former Director of the National Police Agency bowed in return. "I apologize for dropping in during your scheduled meeting, but I had something to discuss with your superior; and I've been wanting to meet you for a long time, Miss Kirihara," he said with a smile, and set the putter on Kan's desk, dislodging a few carefully-placed papers; a muscle twitched in the superintendent's jaw, but he didn't say anything. Kan had once told Misaki that he practiced putting when he needed to think, but she had never seen the club anywhere near his fastidious desk, let alone on top of it.

"You have?" Misaki asked.

The older man nodded and seated himself in one of the leather chairs facing Kan's desk; he patted the other one, and Misaki sat obediently, if awkwardly. "I was probably already retired by the time you joined the Agency," he began.

"Yes, sir."

"But I still have quite a few friends around, and anyway, we're all one big family here. People talk. Your father has spoken quite a bit about your talents - well, from a father, that's to be expected. Not even Naoyasu is as impartial as he thinks he is. But I knew Director Hourai well - we established Section Four together, in fact - and he mentioned several times how impressed he was by your talents. And Hourai was a not a man to give praise easily."

"He told me that he had been grooming me for the Syndicate, sir," Misaki couldn't help adding. "Everything he said was with an ulterior purpose; his praise wasn't worth much."

Ito raised a finger and flashed her a warm smile. "That may have been true, but ask yourself this: why did they want you in a top position? I can think of two reasons. One, they needed someone easily biddable, who would do as she was told without asking questions - but that doesn't sound very much like you, does it; not from what I've heard, anyway. So that leave us with the second: they wanted someone intelligent, who would take initiative and work towards the good of the organization on her own. No doubt they expected that it would be easier to convert you to their philosophy."

"I suppose," Misaki said slowly. She hadn't really thought of it that way before.

"And I think Hourai was quite right in his choice," Ito said, still smiling. "Just look at what you've accomplished in the past month alone: prevented widespread panic at the outing of contractors, arrested your own superior, rooted the Syndicate out of the police, and refused to turn a blind eye to the crimes of your father. That was a very brave and difficult thing that you did last night. You're an example to generations of officers to come!"

A cold lump settled in Misaki's stomach. How did he know about her father already? Perhaps Kan had told him. "Thank you, sir, but I'd rather not be an example to anyone."

"I'm afraid that's really not up to you, my girl," Ito said with a sympathetic chuckle. Then his expression turned slightly more somber. "Kan has just informed me of Hourai's passing; it is a shame, such a shame. Whatever else he was, he was an excellent police officer. Do you have any idea how it happened? Certainly I can see him committing suicide to avoid disgrace, but it was far too late for that."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't discuss the details of an open investigation with anyone from outside of my department."

Ito beamed at her. "I like this girl, Kan. Well, I've already taken up too much of your time." He rose, bowing slightly to Misaki, who also rose. "Miss Kirihara, a pleasure to meet you. If there's anything I can do to aid you in any capacity, please let me know. Kan, see you on the green tomorrow?"

Kan nodded distractedly and bowed to see the former director out; then he shut the door behind him. "My apologies, Kirihara; Ito was insistent on meeting you."

"It's not a problem," Misaki said, still trying to decide what to make of the man. "I've wanted to meet him too, actually."

"If your reasons have anything to do with the investigation, you'll oblige me by waiting until you have solid evidence to do anything rash. I highly doubt that Ito has any connection to the Syndicate; but even if he is retired, rumors can do a lot of damage."

"I understand, sir."

Kan picked the putter up from off his desk and set it next to a bookcase in the corner, on which stood several modest tournament awards and photos of himself golfing with various government officials; then he returned to his desk and took a sheaf of paper from one of the tidy stacks. He glanced over it, then up at Misaki.

"Sit," he said. "No need to be so formal."

"I'm comfortable with formal, sir," Misaki said before she could stop herself.

Kan's eyebrows rose. "Suit yourself. Let's discuss the elephant in the room first: your father."

Misaki was still holding the golf ball in her hand; she squeezed it until her knuckles turned white. "Yes, sir."

"I have the transcript of his interview here; have you seen it?"

"I know the salient points, sir."

Kan grunted. "And what do you think? Has he been completely honest?"

"To the best of my knowledge, yes."

"Well, that's good, I suppose. He prepared recommendations for his temporary replacement, and suggested someone who Section Four has already cleared; we'll have to take that rec with a grain of salt, but regardless, things are going to be a bit chaotic in Criminal Investigations for a while. Director Kumagai is not going to be happy."

"No, sir." The current NPA director was already unhappy with Misaki for her impromptu press conference a month ago - and for the fact that his office was the first that she'd sent her team to investigate. They hadn't found anything incriminating on any of the staff, and Misaki was fairly certain that the director himself was clean; but he hadn't been happy to have been under suspicion at all. And now she was dropping yet another corruption scandal as well as a logistical mess onto his lap.

"I'll run any interference necessary; I just want you to be aware."

"Yes, sir," Misaki said, idly wondering if Hourai had ever had to run interference with Kan on her behalf. Probably not; she hadn't started making waves until she'd met Hei, and by then the Syndicate's plan had already been in full gear.

Kan set down the papers and picked up another sheaf. "Now, your report on the Hourai investigation."

"This happened under my watch, sir. I'm sorry," Misaki said, bowing stiffly with her arms at her side.

Kan regarded her dispassionately, reminding her markedly of her former boss. "You did everything that was humanly possible, Director," he said at last. "That facility was built for the purpose of keeping dangerous contractors out as well as in, but it still wasn't perfect."

"You think I'm right, then?" she asked in surprise. "That Hourai was murdered by a contractor?" She hadn't reported on her conversation with Neela yet; her father's confession last night had placed everything else on the backburner.

Kan flipped through her report. "It's very subtle," he said. "Everything in here could be a coincidence or even pure imagination, like those wet footprints. But yes, I believe you. I knew Hourai quite well - his position in the Syndicate did not surprise me at all; neither would I be surprised if he'd killed himself to save face. But like this? No, it's far too messy for someone like him. I'm sure that whoever is still running what's left of the Syndicate orchestrated this. Have you any concrete leads yet? Something more than conjecture?"

"Yes, sir," she said, and proceeded to fill him in on her and Navid's interview with Neela.

"So she named HG-139 independent of your own data? That certainly lends some credibility to her information. What did you promise her in exchange for getting her to talk?"

"I didn't promise anything; I told her the current state of the Syndicate, and suggested that if she continues to aid our investigation, we might hire her on in Section Four."

Kan nodded minutely. He'd been moderately encouraging the last time that she had brought up the issue of hiring a contractor, though not exactly enthusiastic. "That is a decision that is not to be rushed, Kirihara," he admonished. "Employing a contractor in the police is far more risky than any other job sector; especially if there's still a Syndicate presence here. Still, if you manage to obtain her full cooperation, this could serve as a useful trial run."

"Yes, sir. She has incentive to help out. At the very least, she has an interest in taking down the Syndicate. But her usefulness is limited in prison; may I use my personal authority as Acting Director to -"

"Kirihara," Kan interrupted, "I think you keep forgetting: you are Acting Director. That authority is yours to use however you see fit. If I take exception to an abuse of power, I'll be sure to let you know."

"Oh. Um, thank you, sir."

Misaki left the office, feeling slightly off balance. She would have expected Kan to exert more authority over her, especially considering what his previous subordinate had done with his authority. Maybe he was planning on letting her crash and burn on her own, so that if she went terribly wrong, he could claim that she had acted independently. Director Kumogai was already predisposed to mistrust her.

Well, if that was the case, she would simply have to not fail.