From the Fatherland, with Love, page 30
“Sorry to drag you out at this hour.” Tenzan looked even more exhausted than the previous day. He was clean-shaven, but his necktie was crooked and his shirt crumpled, his thinning hair tousled, and his stoop more pronounced than usual. The room was about twelve square meters in size, with a rectangular plywood desk and a few old easy chairs with broken springs. By the window was a leafy potted plant that clearly needed watering, and on a table in the corner was a thick pile of leaflets on environmental health and the disposal of industrial waste. The desk was littered with empty drinks bottles, a teapot and cups, and an aluminum ashtray overflowing with cigarette stubs. The wall clock hung at an angle, and the silver lettering that read DONATED BY TANAKAMARU CLOCKS was discolored.
“I apologize for not coming out to meet you.” Tenzan didn’t have a Kyushu accent, having been born and raised in Tokyo. It was only after a successful career as a management consultant that he’d run for the mayoral elections in his mother’s hometown as a candidate for the old Democratic Party, and won. He had appealed to the electorate by saying that although he’d never lived in Fukuoka, its blood ran through his veins, and that he believed the regeneration of the city depended on not being swayed by outside opinion. He had drawn on his experience in his previous job to streamline the administration through the use of NPOs, in a bid to restore public finances, and he’d achieved some results by exploiting connections with East Asian businesses and the special deregulation zone. But he was said to have made many enemies within the establishment.
Tenzan looked around the small, shabby meeting room. “My reason for seeing you in a place like this is that I wanted to update you on the present circumstances without being overheard by other staff.” When Yokogawa gave him a dubious look, he said, “Let me explain,” but launched into a long preamble about his efforts not only to rationalize and deregulate government operations but to change the mindset of city employees. The best way to do that, he’d decided, was to unite them in a common goal, and the first goal he’d set was to improve interdepartmental communication. As at yesterday’s press conference, Tenzan spoke in a muffled, somewhat husky voice—a voice that irritated some and impressed others, who felt it indicated an artless sort of honesty. Yokogawa felt neither way; he just wanted him to get to the point.
“Well, just as we were beginning to make real progress with our communication issues, this goes and happens. The fact is, after the press conference yesterday, I wondered about the garbage and the, well, the sewage and whatnot from their, what’s it called, their encampment in Jigyohama, and so I put out feelers to the KEF commander about having our staff deal with it.” Every time he shifted in his seat, the springs groaned. “These days we outsource everything, including garbage and sewage collection, so anyone less than mid-level management, people capable of talking business with contractors, wouldn’t do, of course. There has to be smooth cooperation, otherwise—well, as you know, the KEF aren’t exactly tolerant, so anything could happen. I really had to steel myself to ask senior staff for their help with this—after all, they all have families too. But five hundred people produce an awful lot of garbage and sewage, and if you don’t dispose of it properly there’s the danger of an epidemic. And now we’ve got to accommodate the reinforcements said to be on their way. We don’t want them just appropriating whatever land and buildings they choose, and we certainly don’t want them spread throughout the city, so I came up with the idea of getting them to base themselves on a stretch of reclaimed land in Odo—that depopulated area around the old elementary school that closed down? But we’re going to need the very best personnel from the public works and building equipment divisions to get it ready for habitation. The first one I approached was a female senior staff member named Onoe Chikako, who was originally in the Port Authority. She’s extremely good at her job, and she also speaks a bit of Korean. She was rather shocked, of course, but I managed to convince her. And having a woman agree to the assignment made it a lot easier to persuade others.
“But then what should go and happen? A total of eight city employees have been at the KEF camp since yesterday afternoon, and from what I hear they’ve been falling over backwards to please the North Koreans, going way beyond the call of duty. Now, what’s that all about?” Tenzan put a hand to his chin and sat up straighter, unhunching his shoulders. Yokogawa had already heard that some of the City Hall staff had set off for the KEF camp as if heading for the lions’ den, but before long had been pitching in with big smiles on their faces, as though they were all old friends. He thought the psychology involved was probably something along the lines of the Stockholm syndrome, but he didn’t have time to get into that now and looked meaningfully at his wristwatch. Tenzan didn’t seem to be in any hurry, however. From one corner of the room came a buzzing sound, probably a fly. The whole room smelled like the butt-filled ashtray, and water was dripping from the air conditioner, which looked as though it hadn’t been repaired for years. From outside, City Hall looked like a palace, but once you were inside you saw the effects of the budgetary crisis. It was neither hot nor cold in the room, but beads of sweat glistened on the mayor’s forehead. Yokogawa noticed that something black was mixed in with the sweat—hair dye, probably. Tenzan looked increasingly uncomfortable. The hands resting on his knees were trembling, and he blinked rapidly, as if his eyes were sore. Yokogawa finally realized that he wasn’t just griping; he had something important to communicate, and was making every effort to get it across, in spite of being exhausted to the point of collapse.
“The problem,” said Tenzan, his voice even huskier now, “is that discipline in City Hall is breaking down. The whole place seems to be disintegrating. The assembly isn’t functioning, and some workers seem to be at the beck and call of the KEF, as I told you. Those that are close to them are actively following their instructions and working on their behalf even inside City Hall. Some of our people have already started searching for a suitable piece of land for them—for the extra hundred and twenty thousand on the way, that is. On the other hand, a lot of staffers don’t take at all kindly to this. Maybe there’s an element of jealousy there, although I don’t know if you can really call it that. But there seems to be this mistaken idea that the safety of those in favor with the KEF is somehow guaranteed. In a time of emergency, what’s most to be feared is a schism among those of us entrusted with governance of the city, and that’s exactly what seems to be happening. But what worries me most is the possibility of something similar happening in the central government.”
Tenzan glanced at the wall clock. He kept licking his lips and clearing his throat. After taking a deep breath, he said, “The day before yesterday, two SAT units were sent over by Osaka City police. SAT stands for Special Assault Team,” he began to explain, but Yokogawa cut him short, saying he knew what SAT was. “Combined, the units from Fukuoka prefectural police and Osaka City number almost sixty men. And the combined squad appears to be under the command of the leader of the Osaka SAT, who’s a captain in rank. The prefectural police are hopping mad because their chief, who’s an inspector and should be in command, is being left out of the loop. It’s a real mess. Osaka sent in the SAT units, but the order apparently came from the National Police Agency with the backing of a number of Cabinet ministers. This was leaked to me by someone in the Cabinet crisis-management room who’s worried about it. He didn’t specify which ministers were involved.
“The problem is, they’re not here officially on government orders, which means the government won’t be held responsible for whatever happens as a result. And apparently they’re considering trying to capture KEF personnel. The prefectural SAT has just under twenty men, and their equipment and training are completely different from the Osaka SAT units. Some of the latter were trained in the US and Europe and have the latest weapons and equipment, and they tend to look down on the prefectural SAT. I’ve only just heard about their arrival and have no idea what exactly they’re planning. But if they really do try to capture some KEF soldiers, it’ll entail a huge risk to residents, and I can’t take responsibility for that. And it’s not at all clear who the hell will be taking responsibility.”
So that’s what this is all about, thought Yokogawa. They certainly wouldn’t spring an attack on the Jigyohama camp in order to capture a few KEF men. The anti-terrorist police were basically trained to arrest criminals and save lives, not fight; they weren’t capable of taking on Special Operations Forces armed with rocket launchers and machine guns. So they must be planning to ambush separate individuals as they went on their round of arrests. “Is there anything I can do?” asked Yokogawa. “Please keep us informed about how the KEF arrests are going,” said Tenzan gratefully. “Fine,” said Yokogawa. “But I might not have a chance to contact you if things get dicey.” Yokogawa envisioned getting caught up in a shoot-out, and decided that it really would be better to borrow a bulletproof vest.
Dawn had not yet broken. The black silhouettes of buildings loomed up along Route 202, where some twenty riot police were washing down the road and sweeping up shards of broken glass outside the blockaded Nishitetsu–Fukuoka Station. Late last night, a mob of about a hundred youths had hurled bottles, stones, and plastic bags filled with excrement and paint at the riot police. More than a few had been arrested, and some were seriously injured after being beaten with batons or shoved to the ground with duralumin riot shields. Some of the riot police had been injured too. Nishitetsu–Fukuoka Station was only three kilometers from the KEF camp, but it was a small station on a privately run local railway, and considerably fewer police had been sent to guard it than at JR Hakata Station or Hakata Port. They were right under the noses of the heavily armed North Korean soldiers but were equipped only with the standard batons, shields, and water cannon used to deal with demonstrations. The squad must have been very edgy when the crowd, many of whom had lost their jobs and now felt physically trapped in the city, yelled at them to get the trains moving again and started throwing stones. And there had been other incidents. It was only the first day of the blockade and supplies of food and fuel had not yet bottomed out, but panic buying had already begun at convenience stores and gas stations. Stones had been thrown at the office of the Association of Korean Residents in Japan, fires had been set at pachinko parlors run by people connected with the Association, and a clash between a cult group trying to flee Fukuoka and police at a roadblock had produced a number of casualties.
Some of the riot police peered into Yokogawa’s car as it drove slowly past. They looked like they didn’t want to be there. There had been few demonstrations in recent years, and most of them had probably never confronted an aggressive mob. Asked by a television reporter what he would do if the Koryo Expeditionary Force came along, one of them had answered that he didn’t want to think about that. Yokogawa fought an urge to roll down the window and tell these boys that if the KEF did show up, they should run like hell.
At this time of night, it took less than ten minutes to get from Tenjin to Jigyohama, and there was still plenty of time. Yokogawa asked the driver to go slowly while he searched media reports related to SAT units on the in-car PDA.
Special Assault Team, abbreviated as SAT. Made up of specially selected young police officers equipped with high-performance sniper rifles, sub-machine guns, night-vision goggles, etc., and trained to deal with incidents such as hijackings and hostage situations. Started in secret by Tokyo and Osaka police following the 1977 Dhaka Incident when the Japanese Red Army hijacked a Japan Airlines flight. Their existence was first made public by the National Police Agency in 1996, when it had five branches in the prefectural police departments of Hokkaido, Chiba, Kanagawa, Aichi, and Fukuoka, with approximately two hundred personnel. They will respond to an emergency request for assistance outside their prefectural boundary. In 1979 they resolved a hostage situation at a Mitsubishi bank in Osaka’s Sumiyoshi Ward by shooting dead the hostage taker.
Kyodo News Agency, May 2000
SAT units from Osaka police 2nd Mobile Unit and Fukuoka police 1st Mobile Unit were dispatched to aid Hiroshima police in the hijacking of a Nishitetsu Express bus. Hiroshima prefectural police stormed the bus at the Kodani service area, and the SAT units provided specialist assistance.
Asahi Shinbun, May 2000
It has been decided to deploy a National Police Agency anti-terrorist Special Assault Team (SAT) in Okinawa from 2005. The area is considered at high risk of terrorist attack due to the presence of US military bases, and dispatching a unit after a request for assistance from the prefectural police would currently take too long. SAT units have been expanded since their formal establishment in 1996, and there are now ten units with three hundred members in all, located in Tokyo and Osaka MPDs, Hokkaido, Chiba, Kanagawa, Aichi, and Fukuoka.
Kyodo News Agency, February 2002
Following last month’s suicide bombing outside the National Diet, the government has established an anti-terrorism task force (under the deputy chief cabinet secretary for crisis management) with a budget of 5 billion yen. A spokesman said this would be mostly used to cover the costs of equipping the police anti-terrorist special assault team (SAT) and training them abroad. SAT members will be sent to train in Germany, the US, and Britain. The SAT units were apparently initially trained by Germany’s counter-terrorism unit GSG-9 (the Grenzschutzgruppe 9, or Border Guard Group 9).
Mainichi Shinbun, September 2008
The joint anti-terrorism conference held by the National Police Agency and the Self-Defense Agency to tackle terrorism by Islamic fundamentalists and North Korea is under way, and confirms mutual cooperation between these two organizations. It appears that in the case of terrorist attacks such as the suicide bombing outside the Diet building in August this year, not only police SAT teams but also the SDF’s Rangers will be deployed. However, the NPA expressed misgivings about the SDF being in charge of anti-terrorist strategy in urban areas.
Kyodo News Agency, November 2008
Yokogawa had a nasty presentiment. The decision to dispatch the Osaka SAT units to Fukuoka had been taken when it became known that a small group of North Korean terrorists had occupied the Dome, but the situation had completely changed with the arrival of four entire companies in light transport planes. The SAT units were not trained to deal with an armed force five hundred strong, and were no longer appropriate for the current situation. Nevertheless, some police officials and politicians might well get it into their heads that now they’d been dispatched, they had to be used. It was unclear who had proposed it, or who had the right to decide, or where the responsibility lay, but it seemed that a plan that no longer made any sense was going to be carried out. In the past Yokogawa had often told himself that however uninformed or incompetent bureaucrats or politicians were, surely they couldn’t be that dumb, only to have them prove him wrong again and again. At the time of the controversy over using the same number for the Basic Resident-Register Network code as for the tax records, he’d written an editorial saying that surely they couldn’t be stupid enough to do that, but then they had actually gone and done it. When he investigated further, he’d been shocked to find that the Diet had approved it only because the decision had been made some time earlier and couldn’t be changed.
The car was passing Ohori Park. The park’s perimeter was outlined with blue plastic sheets covering the shacks of homeless people. Their numbers had been steadily increasing over the past few years, and just about all the parks in the city were inhabited. Either they hadn’t yet gone to sleep or else they were up early, for some of the shacks were dimly lit. Stealing electricity from power cables was common. Through the plastic sheeting faint silhouettes could be seen holding what looked like glasses, as if a party were in progress. Smoke from cooking fires rose from other shacks. Were the homeless unaware of the North Korean army camp next door? And what would the KEF soldiers make of the people living in the park?
Beyond, the Sea Hawk Hotel rose up before them like a gigantic sword. For Yokogawa, that tall, blade-like building was turning into a symbol of the KEF. When the baseball Dome and the hotel were completed twenty years ago, the entire city had seen them as symbols of a new Fukuoka with a bright future ahead of it. Yet with the decline of Daiei, the major retail chain and former owner of the Hawks baseball team, and the economic demise of both the city and Japan as a whole, they had become symbols of lost hope.
Yokogawa wondered why Tenzan had made a point of calling him in to tell him about the Special Assault Teams. The forthcoming arrests were bound to take place in different locations, so any information he could provide from accompanying them would be of little use. And Tenzan must have access to the names and contact numbers of prefectural police officers going with them. Knowing what kind of KEF squadron was in charge of the arrests and how they were being carried out wouldn’t help. Could it be that the mayor was quietly suggesting he leak the information about the SAT units to the KEF? If the KEF was alerted to the danger, the SAT teams might be dissuaded from carrying out their plan or otherwise fail in their operation, thus protecting residents and police officers. If that really had been Tenzan’s intention, then what should he do? Could leaking the information protect people from the irresponsible tactics of idiot politicians and bureaucrats? Gazing up at the Sea Hawk Hotel slicing into a sky that was just beginning to glow faintly with the approaching dawn, Yokogawa felt his heartbeat quicken.
Checkpoint C, at the junction of Yokatopia Avenue and the road around the Dome, came into sight as Yokogawa’s car emerged from the residential area to the south. Night-lights were on in practically all the houses, or otherwise in the gardens. The KEF camp was just a short walk away, but the residents had not been evacuated. They couldn’t leave the city because of the roadblocks, but they hadn’t been given any guidance at all; no one was telling them to seek shelter elsewhere, but neither was anyone reassuring them that they were safe staying put. What went through the minds of the residents of this neighborhood as they watched news reports about the KEF on TV? If you had relatives or friends in the area, what kind of advice would you give them? If Kodama on the international-news desk were to see the lights on in this neighborhood, would he still insist on the SDF attacking? Would Kodama feel the same way if his own home was here, with his wife and children inside? Yokogawa realized it was really quite simple: the way you reacted to the KEF depended on where you lived. How many people in Tokyo could fully appreciate the anxiety and fear the locals here were feeling?
