Seichō Matsumoto - Points And Lines

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Would these reservations be for the same person?"

"Yes."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was depressed. The excitement with which he had started out the day had vanished. He walked as far as Yūraku-chō and stopped in at his coffee shop. He sat for a long while over his coffee, immersed in his thoughts. He couldn't understand! It wasn't possible, it couldn't be, he kept saying to himself.

Leaving the coffee shop, he started walking back to his office. At the Hibiya intersection, the red light held him up at the curb for a long moment. A stream of cars passed in front of him. They were of many different makes, he noted, without particular interest. Yet the spectacle, commonplace though it was, suddenly gave him a new thought.

How stupid he had been! Yasuda didn't have to use just one name. He could have made the plane reservations under different names. And he probably didn't appear at the airline office himself: he must have sent a different person each time to make the reservation for him. He could fly to Fukuoka as Mr. A, return to Tokyo the following morning as Mr. B and as Mr. C change to the plane for Sapporo. He had an hour to wait at Haneda Airport during which this could easily be done. How foolish to believe that because Yasuda traveled on all three planes he had used the same name each time. Why hadn't he thought of this before?

Had Mihara been in a less public place he would have struck his head with both fists. He had been very stupid and was ashamed.

The traffic light turned green and he started across. This means that there are at least three false names in the lists, he decided, and all three belong to Yasuda. Good, I'll have all the names checked. We're bound to find that three of them are assumed names, with false addresses.

Mihara started walking briskly. He was smiling to himself. For the first time he could see a clear road ahead.

Mihara reported to the chief upon his return to the office. Kasai agreed to his plan.

"A total of 143, you say?" He was looking at the lists. "Over one-half live in Tokyo; the rest are in the country. We can have our men check the ones in the city. For the others, we'll ask the local police to investigate."

He gave the orders at once. The detectives took from the lists the names and addresses of those assigned to them. "If they have a telephone, either at home or at the office, call them up. Make sure that your man was on that plane."

After giving the orders, he said to Mihara, "Even if this investigation succeeds, there is still a major obstacle."

"You're referring to the passenger list of the ferry, aren't you?" This part of the wall stood firm as a rock. It still blocked his path.

Something like a warning flashed through Mihara's mind. It was strange that in the case of both the planes and the ferry, the passenger list should be the stumbling block. Could the parallel again be an illusion? Was he in danger of being led astray by the apparent similarity? Mihara was so absorbed by the thought that the chief asked, "What's up?"

Instead of answering Mihara changed the subject. "What about the other problem?" he asked.

"Ah! A man from the Public Prosecutor's Office called on me yesterday." Kasai lowered his voice. "Their investigation of the ministry has run into difficulties. There's no doubt that Sayama's suicide has brought things to a standstill. A man holding the position of assistant section chief is a veteran; he's in full charge of the everyday business of the office. Division chiefs and section chiefs seem to leave all routine matters to these experienced assistants. They don't do this deliberately; what happens is that they themselves simply aren't familiar with the day-to-day affairs of the section. They're too busy climbing the ladder to success. They have no time to learn the office routine. Their assistants, on the other hand, have been handling it for a long time; they know the work thoroughly. They're like experienced craftsmen. But they can't go very far. They have to stand by and watch the younger men, the university graduates with the proper qualifications, get promoted and go past them. Most of them are resigned to this situation. They resent it, of course, but they know that to show their feelings will get them nowhere."

While he was talking, a detective put a cup of tea on his desk. He took a sip and continued, "For that reason, if a senior official so much as takes notice of one of them, the man is overjoyed. He sees a ray of hope in a world he had almost given up. He feels that recognition might still be possible. That's why he'll do anything to please the boss. As for those senior officers, it's fine if they recognize the man's competence and take the trouble to encourage him, but if they help him merely to take advantage of him and his work, the poor man is trapped. No matter how able these top officials may be, they have to depend on their assistants. They know they can't make them work just by giving orders, so they try to be kind. The assistants know all this, of course, but in order to keep their jobs, or to get promoted, they do what they're told and cooperate. That's human nature, I suppose. And speaking of human nature, you'll find a lot of interesting examples in those government offices."

He put his elbows on the desk. "In this case, everything seems to center on Sayama. He was an able worker. The investigator who came to see me was dismayed by the double suicide. Sayama's death has made the investigation very difficult, brought it practically to a standstill. Because Sayama held in his hands the invisible strings that lead to the top officials. He was the key man in that section. The Prosecutor's Office is deeply disturbed by his death. In the meantime, I suppose the higher-ups are rejoicing at their lucky escape."