The whole area was an intricate maze of temporary walled-off paths. The layout would change month to month, and despite his knowledge of the construction schedule, even Mitsuhiro often got lost. It must have been even more of a hassle for the general public. The team managing the company’s media presence in the local community was trying to spin it as “a sight you’ll only get to see for now,” but the feedback had been less than positive. Once construction was over in a few years, it’d be incredibly easy to go in any direction you wanted around here, but until then, everyone had to familiarize themselves with this ever-changing labyrinth.
The “Labyrinth,” speaking of, was one nickname for the Shimaoka East Department Store that once covered this whole area. That building was known for being something of a jungle as well, but now it was demolished, the culvert underneath exposed, and construction was underway on a new forty-seven-story high-rise, tentatively called the East Wing.
Mitsuhiro headed for the East Wing’s foundation site, typed in the code for the number lock on the door of one soundproof construction wall, and went inside. Before him was a giant square hole in the ground, and near it was the cover from one of the culverts redirecting the Shibuya River. Part of the East Department Store used to stand here.
In normal times, there’d only be a shallow puddle of water at the bottom of the culvert, but now the river was audibly rushing by. This culvert had been left in place in order to address potential flooding; water usually went through the main sewer line directly under Meiji-dori Avenue, one of the main thoroughfares in the district, but when the flow from districts like Sendagaya and Udagawacho increased, water started going through the Shibuya River culvert, located underground right in front of the rail station.
—Good thing I’m not investigating some kind of waterproofing mistake.
Mitsuhiro imagined himself soaking wet and peering into a sewage-choked culvert. That was horrifying enough, but what if he slipped? He’d make one of those “Top Ten Worst Ways to Die” news articles, and that wouldn’t be too funny for him, would it?
He climbed the prefab stairs to the construction site’s prefab office, recalling Takenaka’s stern reminder to his team: “You need to keep in mind three things during an investigation: safety first, safety second, and safety third.”
Upon opening the door upstairs, he saw two men wearing “Shimaoka Construction” work outfits and armbands. One was talking on a desk phone about the weather forecast and when they could reopen construction. The other man, an older one, stood up and walked over to Mitsuhiro.
“Um, are you the guy the head office called about earlier?”
“Yes, I’m Matsunaga from the IR department. I’ve been ordered by my boss to investigate here.”
“Right, I heard about you. With this rain, though, most of the crew’s not at work…”
“That’s good for me, actually. I’m not too sure how long this survey will take, after all.”
“Do you need someone to guide you? I can probably leave here around eight, once more people show up.”
The man scratched his forehead with a thick finger. He and his colleague were stuck here at the office for now. They were probably handling the night shift. This huge rainstorm right when they were about to clock out was pretty bad luck for them.
“I’ll be fine on my own,” Mitsuhiro casually replied. “I’ve been here plenty of times, and I have all the drawings. I won’t be going anywhere outside the safety fencing anyway.”
The man frowned. He probably didn’t even want to imagine an amateur like Mitsuhiro wandering around a place like this. Mitsuhiro, too, wasn’t exactly thrilled to be following these orders.
“I’m just going to look at the East Wing’s underground, so I don’t think there’ll be any danger. Can I borrow a helmet and armband? Oh, and some work gloves if you can.”
The man looked relieved to hear it. Weather conditions wouldn’t be a problem underground, and the piles supporting the main structure had been very carefully inspected and verified before being driven in. Unless he took a tumble in the dark, it’d be perfectly safe.
“You can use the stuff on the shelf over there. The checkout sheet’s hanging on that shelf, too.”
“Thank you very much. I’ll just borrow this, then…”
Mitsuhiro grabbed a clipboard and ballpoint pen hanging by a string from one of the columns of the plastic shelf, writing his name, the date, and time in the “equipment used” rows. He put on a helmet with a headlamp, an armband, and a pair of gloves before lightly bowing to the man and leaving the prefab office.
Staying under all the temporary structures to avoid the rain, he proceeded over to the East Wing foundation. The blueprint files were on the tablet he was carrying in his bag, but he didn’t need to look at them. He had read through them all while preparing an investor-targeted construction progress report, and as he’d told the man in that prefab office, he had been here multiple times.
So he climbed over a line of waterproofing sandbags to enter the underground level of the worksite. All the machines and heavy equipment were silent, letting him clearly hear the sound of the rain hitting the steel plates overhead. During normal construction, the sheer noise would make conversation nearly impossible, but now everything was quiet. The rain made everything seem dark, and while there was a large portable lighting array on the far side, it was all shut off for now. The lights were there to keep the heavy equipment from creating large shadows that workers could walk into, rendering them invisible to operators. Such situations had actually resulted in the majority of injuries and deaths involving heavy construction machinery until new procedures were initiated a little while back.
—It’d be nice if they could put some more lights on…
But he knew this was impossible. Turning on the temporary lighting would require powering up the generator—in other words, the whole site would need to be put into full operation just for Mitsuhiro’s sake. They’d also need people checking on the generator to make sure it was operating properly. When nobody was around (save for the two in the prefab office), it wasn’t a reasonable thing to ask for.
Wrapping the strap of his bag across his body to free his hands, Mitsuhiro turned on the headlamp, using the light to proceed underneath the speckled steel-plate-and-concrete ceiling. Soon he saw the stairs to the second basement floor, a temporary structure made of metal plates and pipes bolted together without any decoration.
Here he removed his tablet from his bag, pulling his right glove off with his teeth as he activated it. As he listed up the necessary files, he marveled at just how useful a tool this was. It was five years ago, in the year 2010, that the iPad had first appeared on the market; it had spread so quickly that now it was one of the greatest tools the company provided him. Before, they’d need to spend time and money taking pictures with instant cameras; now they could take hundreds of photos without any extra cost, view the images on the spot, and even create documentation with them. It was so much easier.
Now Mitsuhiro was looking at this tablet, studying the worrisome images on it.
Seven photos were lined up together on the screen, forming a continuous image. Each one was from a different article posted on social media—well, article wasn’t the right term these days. This was stuff posted on an application called Twitter, and although each post was only 140 characters, you could attach images and video to “tweets.”
Twitter use had exploded in Japan beginning in 2008, especially among younger people, and it swiftly became a tool for corporate advertising and government PR. As widespread as it was, of course, not all of its users put it to good use. Maybe there’s just something about the internet that brings out a malicious streak in people. Mitsuhiro always thought so, and what he was seeing now was nothing but a whole mess of malicious content.
East Wing basement. A rash of construction errors
East Wing basement. Just being there makes you sick
East Wing basement. Sore throats; something absolutely harmful coming out
East Wing basement. The wall after the fire—just seeing it gives me a headache
East Wing basement. Another fire here—I can hardly breathe, I want to quit
East Wing basement. All workers hospitalized
East Wing basement. Human bones are coming out from that hole, but nobody’s saying anything
The person posting all this went by the handle “Mole Unit-01.” It was a pretty silly name. His bio only said that he did civil engineering work, and the rest of Mitsuhiro’s team was scrambling to identify him.
This guy’s first tweets were sent around last fall, and they mostly consisted of trivial stuff like “Lunch now.” Recently, though, he’d switched gears and begun posting a series of defamatory tweets about the worksite. Each one began with the phrase “East Wing basement,” and each one had a different image from the site attached to it, likely taken with a phone. None of the photos showed any obvious negligence or mismanagement, but the text went on about construction errors, harmful materials, fires, hospitalizations…and now human bones.
It could no longer be overlooked. Accidents and fires caused by hazardous materials were the kind of news that easily spooked investors. Even the top management would stay up at night over it, and Mitsuhiro and his boss, Takenaka, were no exception. It would be foolish not to be concerned.
So the first objective of Mitsuhiro’s investigation was to confirm that the tweeted images were, in fact, from this site. If they were, he then had to confirm the current situation. These images might’ve been faked, after all, so a quick and careful investigation was needed at once.
Putting the first image in full-screen mode, Mitsuhiro put the glove back on his right hand and went down into the darkness of the second floor, looking for the location this photo matched.