We went down this hallway, crouched over. We were underneath the rink again. We passed throbbing stainless-steel machinery, and then came to a series of doors.
"Do you know where we're going?" I said.
One of the doors was ajar. He pushed it open. The room lights were out, but I could see that we were in the lab. Off in a corner, I saw a faint monitor glow.
We walked toward it.
¤
Theresa Asakuma leaned back from the table, pushed her glasses up on her forehead, and rubbed her beautiful eyes. "It's okay as long as we don't make much noise," she said. "They had a guard outside the main door earlier. I don't know if he's still there."
"A guard?"
"Yeah. They were serious about shutting down the lab. It was spectacular, like a drug bust. It really surprised the Americans."
"And you?"
"I don't have the same expectations about this country."
Connor pointed to the monitor in front of her. It showed a freeze-frame image of the couple, embracing as they moved toward the conference room. The same image, seen from other camera angles, was reproduced on other monitors on the desk. Some of the monitors had superimposed red lines, radiating out from the night lights. "What have you learned from the tapes?"
Theresa pointed to the main screen. "I'm not certain," she said. "To be completely certain, I would have to run 3-D modeling sequences to match the dimensions of the room and keep track of all the light sources, and the shadows cast by all the sources. I haven't done that, and I probably can't with the equipment in this room. It would probably require an overnight run on a mini. Maybe I could get time next week from the astrophysics department. The way things are going, maybe not. But in the meantime, I have a strong feeling."
"Which is?"
"The shadows don't match."
In the darkness, Connor nodded slowly. As if that made sense to him.
I said, "Which shadows don't match?"
She pointed to the screen. "As these people move around the floor, the shadows they cast don't line up exactly. They're in the wrong place, or the wrong shape. Often it's subtle. But I think it is there."
"And the fact that the shadows don't match means . . ."
She shrugged. "I'd say the tapes have been altered, Lieutenant."
There was a silence. "Altered how?"
"I'm not sure how much has been done. But it seems clear that there was another person in that room, at least part of the time."
"Another person? You mean a third person?"
"Yes. Someone watching. And that third person has been systematically erased."
"No shit," I said.
It was making my head spin. I looked at Connor. He was staring intently at the monitors. He seemed completely unsurprised. I said, "Did you already know this?"
"I suspected something of the sort."
"Why?"
"Well, early in the investigation it seemed likely that the tapes were going to be altered."
"Why?" I said.
Connor smiled. "Details, kohai. Those little things we forget." He glanced at Theresa, as if he was reluctant to talk too much in front of her.
I said, "No, I want to hear this. When did you first know the tapes were altered?"
"In the Nakamoto security room."
"Why?"
"Because of the missing tape."
"What missing tape?" I said. He had mentioned it before.
"Think back," Connor said. "In the security room, the guard told us that he changed the tapes when he came on duty, around nine o'clock."
"Yes . . ."
"And the tape recorders all had timers, showing an elapsed time of about two hours. Each recorder started about ten or fifteen seconds later than the previous one. Because that was the time interval it took him to change each tape."
"Right . . ." I remembered all that.
"And I pointed out to him one tape recorder that didn't fit the sequence. Its tape was only running for half an hour. So I asked if it was broken."
"And the guard seemed to think it was."
"Yes. That's what he said. I was letting him off the hook. Actually, he knew perfectly well it was not broken."
"It wasn't?"
"No. It was one of the few mistakes that the Japanese have made. But they only made it because they were stuck – they couldn't get around it. They couldn't beat their own technology."
I leaned back against the wall. I looked apologetically at Theresa. She looked beautiful in the semidarkness of the monitors. "I'm sorry. I'm lost."
"That's because you are rejecting the obvious explanation, kohai. Think back. If you saw a line of tape recorders, each one running a few seconds later than the one before, and you saw one recorder way out of sequence, what would you think?"
"That someone had changed the tape in that one recorder at a later time."
"Yes. And that's exactly what happened."
"One tape was switched later?"
"Yes."
I frowned. "But why? All of the tapes were replaced at nine o'clock. So none of the replacements showed the murder, anyway."
"Correct," Connor said.
"Then why switch one tape after that?"
"Good question. It's puzzling. I couldn't make sense of it for a long time. But now I know," Connor said. "You have to remember the timing. The tapes were all changed at nine. Then one tape was changed again at ten-fifteen. The obvious assumption was that something important happened between nine o'clock and ten-fifteen, that it was recorded on the tape, and the tape was therefore taken away for some reason. I asked myself: what could this important event be?"
I thought back. I frowned. I couldn't think of anything.
Theresa began to smile and nod, as if something had just amused her. I said, "You know?"
"I can guess," she said, smiling.
"Well," I said. "I'm glad everyone seems to know the answer except me. Because I can't think of anything important being recorded on that tape. By nine o'clock, the yellow barrier was up, isolating the crime scene. The girl's body was on the other side of the room. There were a lot of Japanese standing by the elevators, and Graham was calling me on the phone for help. But nobody actually began an investigation until I got there at about ten. Then we had a lot of back and forth with Ishiguro. I don't think anybody crossed the tape until almost ten-thirty. Say ten-fifteen at the earliest. So if somebody looked at a recording, all it would show is a deserted room, and a girl lying on the table. That's all."
Connor said, "Very good. Except you have forgotten something."
Theresa said, "Did anybody cross the room? Anybody at all?"
"No," I said. "We had the yellow barrier up. Nobody was allowed on the other side of the tape. In fact– "
And then I remembered. "Wait a minute! There was somebody! That little guy with the camera," I said. "He was on the other side of the barrier, taking pictures."
"That's right," Connor said.
"What little guy?" she said.
"A Japanese guy. He was taking pictures. We asked Ishiguro about him. He said his name was, ah . . ."
"Mr. Tanaka," Connor said.
"That's right, Mr. Tanaka. And you asked Ishiguro for the film from his camera." I frowned. "But we never got it."
"No," Connor said. "And frankly, I never thought we would."