Adachi realized that he and his colleagues had approached, and were continuing to look at the problem, in a Western way. They were being logical and methodical and punctilious to a point where a Prussian bureaucrat would have been proud of them, but they were not using their famed Japanese empathy. They were not feeling their way through the dead policeman's thought processes, sensing the answer intuitively.
Of course, not many of the investigating team would have known Inspector Fujiwara personally. It was the nature of such an investigation that fresh, unsullied faces would be brought in from outside. Those who were close to the dead man were potentially contaminated. Only Adachi had escaped being a suspect and, who knows, perhaps he, too, was under surveillance.
Adachi brushed aside such negative thoughts and focused on Fujiwara. There was something about his personality that the numerous reports and interviews had missed and which, indeed, had been demonstrated more by his actions than by his demeanor.
The missing elements were arrogance and nerve. In Adachi's opinion, Inspector Fujiwara had been an arrogant man, and in leading his double life he had been brave to the point of foolishness. Sooner or later, given the company he was keeping, it was inevitable that he would have come to a bad end. And yet, in his arrogance, he did not seem to have realized this.
Arrogance to the point of stupidity. Adachi thought not. He had worked with Fujiwara long enough. No, Fujiwara was very far from stupid, but he had certainly not thought too highly of the powers of observation of his fellow men.
Adachi's eyes had snapped open. A horrible thing had occurred to him. Fujiwara was a baseball fanatic. Adachi swung his legs off the sofa and looked above his desk. One year after the formation of the squad, there had been a wild squad party, and the high point of the evening had been the presentation by Inspector Fujiwara, on behalf of the team, of an inscribed baseball bat symbolic of the striking down of wrongdoing. All the squad had signed it, and it was mounted proudly beside a group photo directly behind Adachi's own desk.
Not in the squad room; not on the wall behind where Inspector Fujiwara sat; but in the private office of his very own squad commander, the very man he was deceiving.
The memory had come back: Fujiwara working in Adachi's office on that Sunday and the rest of the squad watching the baseball game. Could it be?
Adachi had tried to remove the bat, but a screwed-in brace held it in place and the signatures to the front. This was a symbolic presentation. It was not meant to be used. He remembered the ever-efficient Inspector Fujiwara himself screwing it to the wall. Very thoughtful.
Adachi had looked closely. The bat looked solid, but it was made of some composition material. He put his hand on the base and turned it. Nothing happened at first. Perhaps it was solid after all. He tried once again, and suddenly the base turned and a line of screw thread appeared. The join was virtually invisible inside a red and black decorative ring. He went on unscrewing. Seconds later, he inserted two fingers and extracted a long, taped package. He opened it and slid eight microcassettes onto the table.
He felt a warm glow of satisfaction at the discovery itself and then a sense of mounting excitement at what it might signify. "Inspector-san," he said to himself. "You have been true to your spirit."
Adachi's discovery of the tapes had occurred only a couple of hours before his meeting with the Spider, and he still had to listen to most of them. He roused himself from his reverie, pushed the remains of his food aside, and drained his beer. A certain amount of private gloating was in order, but now there was work to be done.
He debated getting another beer, but decided that a clear head was the priority. The quality of the recordings was variable, and he had found he had to concentrate to understand some of what was said. The tapes were labeled clearly enough with names and dates and sometimes the subject matter, but the names were in code. Still, that was only paying lip service to security. Most of the speakers were identified by name on the tapes as they were shown in to Hodama by one of the servants. Untangling the identities of the others was something the Tokyo MPD could do with ease.
Adachi loaded the third microcassette into the tape recorder. He was just about to press the play button when the phone rang. He picked it up with irritation. This was no time to be interrupted. His salutation was abrupt.
It was the Eel, and he sounded very frightened.
"Superintendent-san," he said. "Many apologies, many apologies, but I must see you immediately."
Adachi modified his tone. The Eel had to be kept in line, but he was a good informant and a little friendliness toward him did not go amiss.
"Origa-san," said Adachi, "I am busy this evening, but I can drop by to see you tomorrow. An early lunch would be pleasant."
"Superintendent-san," said the Eel, in a voice of desperation, "I must see you now. It is vital. But you must not come to the restaurant. It is being watched."
Adachi looked at the tapes. It was annoying, but they could wait another couple of hours.
"What do you want to see me about?" said Adachi. "What's wrong with the phone?"
"Please, please, Adachi-san," beseeched the Eel, "this is not something we can discuss on the phone. It concerns the man we were talking about."
Adachi's mind went back to their conversation. The Eel meant Katsuda, the real murderer of Hodama. First the tapes and now a breakthrough on the mysterious Korean. Matters were looking up. "The Korean connection?" he said.
"Yes, yes," said the Eel frantically, "but, please, no names."
Adachi debated having the Eel come around to his department, but he had never had an informant there before and did not feel like starting now. "Origa-san, where are you?"
"SunshineCity, superintendent-san," said the Eel, "hiding in the aquarium."
Adachi was amused. "Very appropriate," he said, laughing. He then looked at his watch. "But it must be closed by now."
"Superintendent-san," said the Eel desperately, "this is no laughing matter. Members of the Korean's gang are hunting for me, but no one would suspect the aquarium and I have a cousin who works here who is helping me. I am safe here until I can work out what to do. But I need help, Superintendent-san, and I can help you. I have documents and other evidence. But you must come to me. It is too risky for me to move."
Adachi thought for a moment. The Eel had been a good source in the past. It was worth the effort. "Very well," he said. "Tell me how I can get in."
The Eel, sounding immensely relieved, gave Adachi instructions and hung up.
Adachi contemplated his next move. Up to the Fujiwara business, he would have telephoned for someone in the squad to drive him over and provide backup if need be. Now he hesitated. Suppose there was another leak. The investigation was still ongoing. There was no one he could trust absolutely.
He settled for calling a uniformed patrol. They could drive him up and wait outside while he spoke to the Eel. That would keep the contact secure while providing some backup on call if needed.
He checked his weapon and then looked at the tapes. He did not feel safe leaving them anywhere. Then his eye caught the hideous parrot alarm clock given to him by Chifune. He opened up the back and slid out the battery pack. There was room. He inserted the eight microcassettes and replaced the batteries. Now, who would think of searching a parrot?