2
“Winter solitude-
in a world of one color
the sound of the wind.”
― Matsuo Bashō
Elliot Highway, Alaska Prefecture
Major Katsu Miamatsu had noted Fischer’s turmoil and wondered at the man’s agitation. He thought back to the night of the murder.
If Fischer is as clean as his record reflects, he might be useful as the replacement, Miamatsu had thought as he stared out the car window, but that is not my giri to decide. The snow-covered forest moved steadily past, opening now and then to reveal a quick glimpse of a moonlit meadow or the mirrored cleft of a frozen creek.
He appreciated the harsh extremes of interior Alaska Prefecture. If one could not embrace and bend with the seasons like the willow then one should seek the heat of more populous places like the slums of San Francisco. Unbidden, Miriam came to mind and he shook his head and forced his thoughts elsewhere.
Still staring out the window, he spoke to Sergeant Hamada.
“Who killed Suzuki, and why?”
“Those are the two questions I have been mulling since we discovered there had been a crime, major.”
“The killing has to be political,” Miamatsu said. “Suzuki still had his purse and identity badge. Of course that may not have been what the assassin sought. What else could it be?”
Sergeant Hamada shrugged. “To silence him, perhaps? Suzuki knew his proper station in life and worked tirelessly for the on he owed the Emperor. Perhaps he had defected to a different han?”
A dimly lit cabin over a hundred meters away from the road surrounded by a large, snow-covered meadow, captured Miamatsu’s attention for a moment. He wondered if it was a farm.
“That is even more troubling,” he said. “We both know Suzuki was a Kempeitai agent and part of our han. Mathieson was not a member of anything. I called Sendai and told him to obtain a copy of Mathieson’s autopsy. His death obviously did not raise the flags it should have.”
“Does that mean someone in the Kempeitai suppressed the potential importance of his death?” Hamada asked.
Miamatsu set the question aside while he contemplated the full meaning of the possibility. In an organization where secrets were common currency it might be easy to hide one for a time, but to what end? The silent tiger in the center of this discussion began to move so close it could no longer be ignored.
“Both murders had something to do with the Project,” he said softly.
“Then we must solve this quickly, major,” Hamada said.
“The copy of Mathieson’s autopsy will be on my desk by the time we return to the office tonight. There may be something there that others missed and once found we can safely push aside fears of a conspiracy.”
“What if we find a conspiracy?” Hamada asked.
“If we do, we have a much larger problem than the death of a functionary. We would be seeking people committing sedition.”
Light flashed past in the dark night. Miamatsu realized they had turned onto the Steese Highway and had just passed through the small mining town of Fox. In fifteen to twenty minutes they would arrive in Fairbanks.
“I need to clear my mind, Norio.”
Katsu Miamatsu relaxed into the soft seat cushions and sought the clarity of nothingness.
“Major Miamatsu, we have arrived,” the driver said, holding the door open.
“Thank you, Yori. You made excellent time.”
The driver made a second degree bow as Miamatsu and Hamada exited.
Miamatsu’s assistant stood at attention in the hallway to his office. When he was within five feet of him, the assistant bent from the waist.
This isn’t good, Miamatsu thought, he thinks he has failed me.
“Juro, is there a problem?”
Juro stood upright. “I could not fulfill your request, Major Miamatsu.”
“Which request?”
“For a copy of the Mathieson autopsy report, major.”
“Who refused you a copy?” he said with heat in his tone.
“I was told there is no report, that Mr. Mathieson was not autopsied.”
Miamatsu motioned toward the door with his chin and Juro opened the door and followed him and Hamada into his office.
“Shut the door.”
Miamatsu pulled off his parka and hung it on a peg. Hamada opened his parka and dropped into a chair.
“Did the clerk you spoke with say why procedure had not been followed?”
“No, major. He was as mystified as I was when he discovered the omission.”
“Is Mathieson’s body still in the morgue?” He knew what the answer would be but he still needed to hear it.
“No, major. Mr. Mathieson was cremated two days after his death.”
Despite the outrage he felt, Miamatsu betrayed no emotion. He glanced at the sergeant for a moment.
“Well, it was a thought. I will have to find a different approach to my theory.”
“Is there any other task I may undertake for you, sir?”
“No. It’s after office hours. Go home to your wife and children.”
“Thank you, sir.” Juro gave him a quick bow and left.
He sat at his desk and thought about the ramifications of the lack of an autopsy.
“Either there was an autopsy and the results are secret,” he said to Hamada, “…or no autopsy was performed as they already knew how he died because they had him killed. We’ll work on this tomorrow, Norio. You go get some sleep; I have a report to write. Leave the report the incompetent wrote.”
Sergeant Norio Hamada stood, dropped the report on Miamatsu’s desk, and nodded.
“Thank you, major. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Miamatsu picked up the report and quickly scanned the assembly of deleted words and laborious circular explanation before dropping it on the desk. He moved his chair over to the typing table and rolled a blank official report form into the machine. Avoiding any speculation he put down the facts as related by the witnesses and his own direct observations of Suzuki’s death. In the space reserved for cause of death he typed, “Unknown. To be determined by autopsy.”
He pulled the report out of the typewriter, dated, and signed it. Before walking out the door he checked his reflection in the mirror and used his comb to tidy his appearance. He had to look his best even at this late hour.
Anticipating he would have to leave the report in his supervisor’s attention box he was surprised to see the office door open. He stopped at the door and knocked.
Lieutenant Colonel Akio Toragawa looked up from the report in his hand and acknowledged Miamatsu’s second-degree bow.
“Come in, major, I have been expecting you. Pull the door shut behind you.”
Miamatsu complied and, standing at attention, handed the report to his superior.
“Please, sit. Would you like tea?”
“Thank you, yes.” The light lunch no longer lingered after six hours and his physical hunger nearly matched his mental appetite for information.
The colonel poured tea and sat the pot back on the warming flame. He read the report, laid it on his desk, and stared at Miamatsu.
“Any guesses as to cause of death?”
“He was either shot or stabbed. All of the clothes on the upper body are saturated with blood.”
Toragawa nodded and his eyes hooded further.
“How did this murder compel you to request the autopsy report of a different person?”
“Until apprised by the men in the railroad office, I did not know of the recent death of Mr. Mathieson. Two unnatural deaths within five weeks in a place as small as Livengood seemed unusual to me and I wondered if they were somehow linked.”
“Why do you believe Mr. Mathieson’s death was unusual?”
“I am led to believe the man died of a heart attack.”
“Why do think that is unusual?”
“He was in excellent health, extremely fit, and thirty years old.”
“And your conclusion?”
“I do not yet have one, colonel. I first need to see Mr. Suzuki’s autopsy report and gather what information I can about Mr. Mathieson.”
“Allow me to save you some time and effort, major. There is no link. Mr. Mathieson died of natural causes.”
Miamatsu waited a few breaths for more information.
“Ah, that is good to know. I am grateful to you for the assistance.”
“We all serve the Emperor.”
Miamatsu stood and bowed.
“Thank you for your time and instruction, colonel.”
When he shut the door behind him Katsu Miamatsu allowed himself a small shudder. His earlier casual consideration of a conspiracy had solidified into a certainty, and he had thrown out a hook baited with his career, as well as his life.