were not limited to banks. They could be found in the police department itself. Instances of embezzling occurred in the police and were dealt with without publicity. The police, too, required the trust of the people. While uncovering crime, they had to eliminate such from within their own ranks. Kono recalled the mistake he'd made in his youth. It embarrassed him to think of it, though it could not really be called a crime. . . .
Just promoted to assistant inspector, he went through a brief period when he lowered his standards slightly. As the person in charge of economics-related crime, he had to deal with illegal practices in horse and bicycle racing. This meant he often traveled to the tracks. One day—he must have been bewitched—he suddenly found he'd bought bets on a race and that he'd made a large winning. Although he realized it could be the start of involvement with other kinds of gambling, he began taking a lively interest in horse races and bicycle races. There was no rule that a policeman must not gamble. But there was an unwritten law that they should exercise self-control. Because he had a guilty conscience, Kono avoided the tracks in F city and attended regional ones.
One day, when he had lost all the money he'd brought with him, he felt someone tapping his shoulder. Turning, he saw Wakamoto, the head of a small loan-company.
"The afternoon race is the big one," he said casually. "Want me to let you have some money?"
Wakamoto had noticed that Kono's funds had run out.
"Maybe—"
This was his mistake. Once this kind of borrowing starts, it becomes habit and debts snowball. A policeman is the best kind of customer a small loan-shark can have. Because of his work, he cannot kick back. Before Kono knew it, he had borrowed more than he could pay off. Interest piled up, and the debt increased. He knew he must do something. The days rolled relentlessly by.
One day, his superior, Inspector Takami, called him. The two went to an out-of-the-way restaurant. Seated, Takami said, "I consider you a talented man. Your promotion to assistant inspector was the fastest in the department, ever. It makes me proud of you. But you've got into debt, right?"
"What?"
"You're dealing with a nasty customer. Wakamoto's tied up with gang financing."
The blood drained from Kono's face. Takami knew everything.
"How much can you scrape up from friends and relatives?"
The conversation swept on, and Kono was powerless to resist. After all stones were turned, Kono was still short one million yen. Takami lent it to him out of his own pocket, saving him from a bad predicament. Kono considered Takami a great benefactor from that time on.
Takami had happened to spot Kono's name in Wakamoto's books when he was making a check. His foresight saved Kono from a serious black mark, both in and out of the police force. He'd certainly have been disgraced if he'd been publicly exposed in the books of a petty loan-shark.
Kono learned from the mistake. First, he gained a true understanding of what it meant to be a policeman. Second, he saw the police as an organization that acted speedily to cover whatever unfortunate events occurred within its limits. Kono realized that Takami had also taken the step to protect his own position as a ranking officer on the force. Unreliable people in the department would have brought a black mark against him as well.
Since then, Kono had been so severe on ethical points that he'd earned the nickname, the Hard Guy. His mistake proved a good tonic that later brought him immense trust. He had to grow to the point where he could take a cool, professional look at everything happening above him in the organization. Kono understood the self-defense syndrome in big business. He suspected Taro Usami's death was connected in some way with the self-defense feelings of the company or someone on its staff. A sense of smell developed through years of experience led him to this belief. Difficulty in falling asleep, because of the Usami case, was shared with Kono by all thirteen of the people who had been questioned.
Kenzo Yokomizo was wide awake. "I didn't lie. That's certain. It's just that I didn't volunteer information on some things. Still. . ." He tossed, turned. "Why'd I shoot my mouth off about a secret to Usami? I knew what he said wouldn't do any good. He had no talent. He wasn't forceful. All he did was work hard. But, whenever I was alone with him, I always wanted to talk. Must've been because I knew he'd never tell what I said. That day, on the way home from work, I met him—invited him to a restaurant, and after a few drinks, started talking."
"Promise not to tell anybody, but. . ."
A month before, representatives of the large electrical firm K had held a secret discussion with Yokomizo. It was a sounding out on the subject of merger. The K company was weak in the heating and air-conditioning department and had its eye on Sanei's outstanding technical staff.
K Company, knowing that Kiyose, the president of Sanei, hated the idea of big firms, put feelers out to Yokomizo. Terms were good. For bait they offered him a director's chair. Obviously, he took the bait. He was already at a deadlock with Kiyose anyway.
Their strategy demanded secrecy. Using an affiliate's name, the K company would buy up miscellaneous Sanei shares. Then, at a general stockholders' meeting, they would demand the resignation of President Kiyose, work out something to conciliate the executive staff, etc. This project was already deeply, silently underway.
Yokomizo bit his lip. Why had he let Usami in on such an important secret? Of course, he couldn't tell anyone about the letter he'd received from Usami on the eighth, about what he'd done to comply with that letter. If he let that out, he would become an important suspect in the Usami murder.
A sleepless night visited Yozo Misumi: "Usami was probably murdered, but I didn't kill him. But why—why did I tell him about that?"
The whole affair had ended in four months. It was only a game for her, a way to work out her frustrations because her diabetic husband couldn't satisfy her. It wasn't the first time Misumi had been to bed with another man's wife. But all the other affairs had ended with nobody the wiser. If this one should be known, it would be fatal for Misumi. He had picked the wrong woman.
That day, driving down a busy street, he glanced out the window and saw a woman wave to him.
"Give you a lift?" he asked. She was carrying a shopping bag.
"That's great."
"Get in, then."
She did, then said, "Why, it's not even three o'clock." She smiled. "On a day like this, I bet the country air's fresh and clean." When he thought back, Misumi knew what a clever invitation it had been.
"Why not drive out to the Cape?" he said.
"What about your work?"
"Conference just ended. It's O.K.," he said, turning the wheel.
"I hear you're real cool with the girls."
He said nothing.
"My husband told me."
Then, the conversation took a softer turn.
Many of the men said she was too good for her old man. As the rumors suggested, she had a youthful, fresh body.
Misumi thought he would never tell. The only person who had known she was Shigeko Kiyose, the wife of the company president, was Taro Usami. He knew because Misumi told him.
He no longer had anything
