Six Four (Prefecture D, #4)

by Hideo Yokoyama

All organizations were the same, the police included. You climbed to the top by gaining control over the money, then the people.

Words were weapons; the razor-sharp tools of psychological warfare instruments that could lacerate a man’s heart. Mikami had never changed, even outside work. He wondered if he had ever made a genuine attempt to say something with the aim of actually connecting to another person.

Every time I had a meal, it was like a fresh start.

There’s nothing so foolish as wasting the present for the future.’

Detectives understand the concept of justice, but they lack an instinctual hatred of crime. Their only instinct is the chase.

Inside everyone is unlimited potential. People might work for you, but that doesn’t mean their emotions are any less valid.

He understood that no one was unquestioning in their obedience, just as he realized that no leader could ever hope to understand the inner workings of their staff. Yet they still made themselves gods. Whenever someone was newly appointed to them, they would tend to classify them as this or that kind of person, applying brightly coloured tabs to shoehorn them into the role they wanted performed.

Any tale of make-believe, however far-fetched, could come alive when hidden behind a screen of anonymity. It could walk freely. Any and all developments were plausible. When it came to weaving a tale, anonymity was omnipotent, a delusion itself, one that allowed for an infinity of choice.

But that was how terror took hold – groundless fear.