The Informer Page 12

  “Things have certainly changed for the worse all of a sud­den,” Sakai said sourly after listening to Segawa’s account of last night’s happenings.

  “I’m sorry,” Segawa mumbled. “I really don’t know what to say. I’ve failed in my assignment, and now I’ve got myself into this mess as well.”

  “Well, what’s done is done. It’s no good crying over spilt milk. In any case, I must accept half the blame for everything you’ve been doing. But can you say honest to goodness you’ve had nothing to do with this crime?”

  “I swear I haven’t.”

  “All right. I didn’t really think you were capable of commit­ting murder. But to make sure, I want to clarify this—you said you rushed to Ogino’s house with Kazumi Yamaguchi last night. I can’t understand this. What was the reason for this?”

  “I can explain it,” Segawa said humbly. “After I was thrown out of the house, I felt really miserable. I thought if the evening’s work had gone smoothly, you would’ve really appreciated it, and also, if I hadn’t been caught in the study, Ogino’s suspicions would’ve been allayed. But instead of killing two birds with the one stone, I lost both of them. When I thought of this, I became so depressed I started to drink, one after another, all over the place. I had a lot of drinks, and I thought I still wouldn’t be able to go to sleep, so I bought a pack of sleeping pills as well. It was almost eleven o’clock when I got back to the apartment house.”

  “In the circumstances I can understand your desire to drown your troubles in wine, but an agent should be able to remain calm and cool in any situation. I don’t mind you having a drink in your spare time for relaxation, but don’t try to drown your sorrow—or joy—in wine from now on. Have I made myself clear?”

  “Yes,” Segawa whispered.

  “And what happened after you reached the apartment house last night?”

  “Miss Yamaguchi was waiting for me at the entrance. She grabbed me by the arm and said, ‘Where’ve you been all this time? I can smell wine on your breath. You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?’ I got annoyed and said, ‘It’s none of your damned business what I’ve been doing. I’m sick of your snooping. I’m very tired and I’ve no intention of going to bed with you tonight. Just beat it, will you?’ When I said this, she slapped me on the face and snapped at me, ‘Stop being stupid! D’you think I’ve come here at this hour for no reason at all? D’you think I’m drunk?’ She was really mad at me then, and I gave in and let her in.”

  “I see,” Sakai said, suppressing a smile. “She seems to be a bit of an amazon . . . And what happened then?”

  “When we were in my room, she fixed her eyes on me challengingly and made me promise to tell the truth, and then said, ‘Was it you who murdered Mr. Ogino?’ I was so amazed, I asked her what she was talking about.”

  “I think she’s in love with you. But go on.”

  “She said she’d received a phone call from Eiko Ogino about an hour ago. What Eiko had said was quite confused, but the gist of it was that she had found her husband murdered, and knowing that I had been there that night, she was wondering if I had anything to do with it. Kazumi said Eiko had been saying everything back to front—she’d been in a state of shock.”

  Sakai slowly lit a cigarette. “Hmm. Women certainly reveal their limitations in situations like this . . . Go on.”

  “Well, Kazumi asked me if I had any idea who the murderer might be, and when I said no, she said the police often accused people wrongly, and in my position I could expect them to ar­rest me any time. She said this so seriously, I became dead scared. You see, I’d already copped a battering from Ogino that night—I was pretty shaky as I was. On top of this, I was drunk. I had all sorts of visions about the police bursting into my room. Then she started telling me that the first thing I had to do was establish an alibi to divert police attention from me until the killer was caught. Once the killer was caught, she said, it wouldn’t matter whether another person’s alibi was true or false. So the alibi was the first problem for us—she kept repeating us all the time. Finally I accepted her idea, thinking that anyway, it wouldn’t be to anybody’s advantage if I was ar­rested now . . .”

  Sakai knitted his thick eyebrows but said nothing.

  “. . . She asked me what time I was kicked out of Ogino’s house, and when I said it was around eight o’clock, she said we must put the time back half an hour and say that I was with her from eight o’clock onwards. She said we must insist that after I left Ogino’s house I rang her from a public phone box and then met her at Shinjuku at eight o’clock. We must say we were in the Mammoth Café till ten o’clock, then separated at Shin­juku station, and I went to have a drink by myself. This way a definite alibi would be established. I’d be safe, even if the po­lice thought I had a motive, or the circumstantial evidence against me became stronger. That’s what she said, and I thought her idea was a godsend. I didn’t feel like it, but agreed to go with her to Ogino’s house.”

  “Well, wasn’t that a terrific idea from a woman?” Sakai asked appreciatively. “Yes, quite often when a woman suddenly finds herself in a desperate situation, she’ll come up with a fan­tastic idea a man would never dream of, and she’ll put it into action, too . . . And then at Ogino’s house you gave the police the story she cooked up—is that it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, then you’ll be safe, I’d say. There’s one or two things in your alibi that make me slightly uneasy, but if you have a clear conscience about the murder itself, it’ll be all right, I think. The only question is whether this Yamaguchi woman is a trustworthy person?”

  “I’ve no worries on that score. And being a clever woman, she won’t say anything out of place, or make any slip. The rest of it is that I’ll just have to be sweet to her from now on.”

  “When did you start having sex with her?”

  “Ah, that was a fairly long time ago. I was still with the secu­rities corporation.”

  “Hmm. You’ve been friends quite a while, haven’t you? Have you ever talked about marriage?”

  “No, not really. She’s the type of woman who can manage quite well on her own.”

  “But this time, should she want you to marry her, you’ll have no choice—you’ll have to do it. Have you thought of that?”

  “Yes,” Segawa said as if spitting blood. “I’ve prepared myself for this possibility.”

  “In that case there’ll be no trouble. Just be sweet with her from now on. And it might be an idea to go over the details of your alibi with her once more, as soon as possible. For example, if the police asked you what sort of drinks you had at the café, and the two of you answered differently, they’d become suspi­cious straight away.”

  It was amazing how Sakai could pay attention to detail, Segawa thought. “Yes, I follow you,” he said.

  “So far as I’m concerned, as long as you always tell me the truth, I’ll never reveal anything about your intelligence assign­ment, even if I’m questioned by the police. This is in my inter­est as much as in yours.”

  “Thank you very much.” Segawa sighed deeply. He felt Sakai’s last words had lifted a great weight from his shoulders. He looked at his boss sheepishly. “This may be too much to ask—after making such a mess of the job—but I wonder if you’d help me to create the impression I’m still working here, just for a while? Quitting immediately could make the police even more suspicious. Naturally, I’d be quite prepared to take half my present salary and do any menial job while I’m here.”

  Sakai’s face broke into a smile. “Mr. Segawa, I’ve no inten­tion of sacking you. I’ve no intention of reducing your salary either. Of course, if you say you no longer wish to do this work, that’s a different matter . . . If I wanted to sack you, I can assure you I wouldn’t have ordered wine.”

  “You mean—you mean I can carry on as if nothing hap­pened?” Segawa stared at Sakai in disbelief.
/>   “I’d say you haven’t caused me any real inconvenience. Look, I’m a man who wants to run an industrial espionage agency. Right? I certainly didn’t think we’d get mixed up in a murder case, but I naturally expected we’d run into some sort of trouble every now and then, and I’ve prepared myself to cope with such emergencies. If I got rattled every time some­thing like this happened, or if I wanted to get rid of my partner every time he made a mistake, I’d never be able to run a busi­ness like this—or any other business, for that matter.”

  “Mr. Sakai, may I ask something?” Segawa’s eyes were cloudy with gratitude. “Would you agree that after yesterday’s events it’d be quite impossible to complete the paramizol assignment? Perhaps you’d like to give me another job.”

  “It may be too soon to give up completely,” Sakai said. “ Of course, I have another job lined up for you already. But talking about the present one, people often give up when their big chance is just around the corner. My own theory is that this murder may well prove a blessing to us. It’s been often said the first requirement in a politician is the ability to turn an unex­pected development to his own advantage. I think the same applies to a spy.”

  Segawa couldn’t see what possible advantage could be gained from Ogino’s murder. “What’ve you got in mind?” he asked feebly.

  “Before I explain this to you, let me ask you something. You told me that during your encounter with Ogino last night, he said somebody had informed him you were a spy. This is cor­rect, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. He mentioned it several times.” Suddenly Segawa al­most jumped out of his chair. “This informer knows I’m a spy. If he tells that to the police, what will happen then?”

  “Calm down, please,” Sakai said soothingly. “That was the very first thing I thought of when you mentioned it . . . The question is what sort of person this informer is? What was his reason for doing this? And first of all—how did he manage to find out you are a spy?”

  This was the crux of the matter, and Segawa was completely mystified. Hard as he tried to produce an answer, he couldn’t. For his tired brain, strained by excitement and lack of sleep, it was difficult enough to follow simple logic right now.

  “I wouldn’t know,” he mumbled helplessly.

  “Mr. Segawa, haven’t you any idea who that person might be? Think. Have you ever revealed—or at least hinted at—your present job to anyone?”

  “No, never. I wouldn’t make such a mistake under any circumstances.”

  “What about this Yamaguchi woman?”

  “I did say something to her, but only after Ogino’s death. Until then, I hadn’t given her the slightest hint.”

  “Well, then what about Miss Kondo, Dr. Nishiwaki’s assis­tant? D’you think she might have seen through you?”

  “No, that’s most unlikely. If she did, she’s the greatest actress on earth, I’d say. If I’d asked her for information in a more di­rect fashion, then it’d be possible. But as I told you before, I haven’t reached that stage with her yet.”

  “Yes, I remember you telling me that. But then there’s no one else who knows the truth except you and me? I’m sure I haven’t told anyone about you. I haven’t mentioned your name even to the clients we’re doing the job for. Members of our own staff wouldn’t have overheard anything either—we’ve been pretty careful about this, haven’t we? . . . Yes, it’s puzzling all right.”

  Segawa’s arms began to tremble. To him this wasn’t just an intriguing puzzle—it was far more than that. He felt he was under the eye of an invisible monster, watching his every move. Fear was slowly knotting up his stomach.

  “I wouldn’t have the faintest idea,” he muttered.

  “All right then,” Sakai said encouragingly. “Let’s look at it from a different angle. Are you sure Ogino used the word in­form rather than some other word like advise or warn?”

  “I’m pretty sure he said informer, but what’s the difference?”

  “There’s a great deal of difference. Advice or warning is usually an act of goodwill coming from a friend or a person well known to the other. But an informer generally remains anony­mous and has a profit motive. For example, if somebody within the company became suspicious of your movements and re­ported them to Ogino—that would be a warning.”

  “Then the informer isn’t somebody who was known to Ogino, is that it?”

  “Not necessarily. He could be someone who was meeting him every day but concealed his identity on this one occasion. The question is, what was his aim?”

  Segawa became sheet-white. “Perhaps he wanted me to be falsely charged with murder?”

  Sakai shook his head firmly. “No, that doesn’t make sense. It’s quite possible to imagine that the informer and the mur­derer are one and the same person. But if that’s so and he wants you to be accused of the crime, then what was his point in telling Ogino about your spying activities? It’s most unlikely Ogino would’ve revealed the accusation to anybody before confronting you with it. Most people would do the same when the person accused is one of their closest friends. Well, if the murderer knew Ogino was going to die soon after confronting you—and before he could pass on the information about you to anyone else—then what was the point in telling Ogino in the first place?”

  “Yes, I see what you mean,” Segawa said without conviction.

  “Then what d’you think his real intention was?”

  “I can’t work it out.”

  “To put it simply, he might’ve been trying to end the friend­ship between you and Ogino. Don’t you think that’s possible?”

  “Well, if it had been a friendship between man and woman, then I could imagine someone wanting to see the end of it. But who would worry about a friendship between two men—unless he’s a homosexual?”

  “Yes, this sounds reasonable enough on the surface,” Sakai said, fixing his eyes on Segawa’s drawn face. “But what if the informer is after the same thing as we are?”

  “What?”

  “This is quite possible, isn’t it? If he himself is after the secret of paramizol, then obviously he looks at you with different eyes. Even if he’s not sure about your objective, the mere possi­bility of you being a competitor is enough for him to want you to be isolated from Ogino. This makes sense, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” Segawa said, open-mouthed. This was an extraordi­nary theory, he thought, but there was logic in it. Furthermore, there didn’t seem to be any other answer. It was amazing how Sakai could see things so clearly.

  “We’re not the only people trying to get at the secret of paramizol, you know,” Sakai said chidingly. “For all I know, there may be an agent operating right inside the company. And why not? Who knows there isn’t a disgruntled executive somewhere in there who’d be willing to sell the secret to an outsider? Actually, in my opinion, the informer must be a per­son who’s been fairly close to Ogino and has a pretty good knowledge of the situation inside the company. The paramizol project is treated as top secret even within the company. Very few people are directly involved in it. So even if the informer happens to be a high-ranking executive, he may not be in a po­sition to secure half the information he needs to make a kill.”

  “Aaah, I see. But then isn’t it possible he’ll let the police know I’m a spy to get rid of me for good?”

  “I don’t think he’d do that,” Sakai said, frowning. “With Ogino’s death you’ve lost your most important source of infor­mation. This is probably more than the informer was hoping for. By tipping off the police about you, he’d only expose him­self to danger. He knows very well the police would immedi­ately start wondering about him . . .”

  Segawa began to feel better. Sakai’s words were acting like a sedative on his tortured nerves. He could almost relax now.

  “. . . Mr. Segawa, can you see now what I meant when I said it may be too soon to give up? It’s highly probable
the informer is the only person apart from me who knows what you’re up to. And you still have your connection with Setsuko Kondo. Furthermore, it’s quite possible that because of Ogino’s death, the patent application will be delayed for a while. So there is some more time.” Sakai leaned forward on the table. His disturb­ing eyes glowed with a strange brilliance as he added, “If we can identify the informer as he is about to lay his hands on the docu­ment, we may be able to snatch it from him in one fell swoop.”

  On the way back from the Ogino house Kirishima rang the Ku­rahashi legal office and made an appointment.

  He felt his clerk’s words made good sense. He himself wasn’t quite happy about Inspector Ishida’s obstinacy and decided to investigate personally some aspects of the case.

  When a person of high position and considerable wealth was murdered, the first thing to find out was who would profit most by his death. And the quickest way to find this out was to con­tact the victim’s legal adviser. This was elementary, and a po­lice officer of Ishida’s experience must be well aware of it. And yet, while the inspector was moving fast enough in other direc­tions, he had omitted to take this basic step. This suggested he was obsessed with some preconceived idea.

  On arrival at the legal office at Yotsuya Daikocho he was greeted by Akito Kurahashi in the waiting room.

  “Well, if it isn’t young Kirishima,” Kurahashi said in a boom­ing voice and slapped Kirishima on the shoulder. He was full of life and boasted a body trained in rugby football in his student days. When he noticed Kitahara standing modestly behind Kirishima, he realised he’d made a faux pas and said, “I’m sorry. Force of habit. You must be here on business, Mr. Prosecutor.”

  “Don’t be so formal—you embarrass me,” Kirishima said. “How are you keeping, anyway? You haven’t changed much.”

  “I’m fit as a fiddle, but my father hasn’t been so well lately. He’s close to seventy, you know, so I suppose this is only to be expected. I have to carry on the business almost on my own these days.”