"Hard Rain" - читать интересную книгу автора (Eisler Barry)5I WENT STRAIGHT to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking of Harry, of Harry with Yukiko. I knew something was wrong there. What would this girl, or whoever she worked for, want with a guy like Harry? I supposed he might have made an enemy with one of his hacking stunts. Even if he had, though, tracing the problem back to him would be a bitch. And what would be the point of setting him up with the girl? Harry had told me his boss had taken him to Damask Rose to “celebrate” the night Harry had met Yukiko. If the girl had been a setup, Harry’s boss must have been complicit. I chewed on that. I thought about going to the guy. I could find out his name, where he lived, brace him one morning on his way to the office. Tempting, but even if I got the information I wanted, the incident would cause problems for Harry, possibly severe ones. No go. Okay, try something else. Maybe someone was interested in Harry only as a conduit to me. There was Midori, of course. She knew where he lived. She’d sent him that letter. I got up and paced the room. Midori had connections in the entertainment world. Use those connections, have someone get close to Harry as a way of finding me? I remembered that last night with her at the Imperial Hotel, how we’d been standing, my arms around her from behind, her fingers intertwined with mine, the way her hair smelled, the way she tasted. I pushed the memory away. I realized that, for the moment, there was no way of knowing who was behind Harry’s improbable romance. So I put aside Midori and concentrated on what, not who. What makes me a hard target is that I have no fixed points in my life-no workplace, no address, no known associates-that someone can hook into and use to get to me. If someone had established a connection from Harry to me, he’d have that fixed point. He could be expected to exploit it. That meant people would be watching Harry. Not just through Yukiko. They’d have to tail him, as often as possible. But he’d been clean when I’d seen him at Teize. He’d told me as much, and I knew for sure that I’d been clean afterward. I decided to conduct an experiment. It was a little bit risky, but not as risky as leveling with Harry about his situation, given his current state of mind. I’d need another night in Tokyo to do it right. No problem with that. While closing in on the weightlifter, I’d been staying in appropriately anonymous city hotels for one week at a time-not wishing to attract attention with longer stays-and the New Otani reservation was good for another three nights anyway. I looked at the digital clock on the bedstand. It was past four in the morning. Christ, I was keeping the same hours as my lovesick friend. I’d call him in the evening, when we’d both be awake. More importantly, when Yukiko would be at Damask Rose, and Harry, presumably, would be alone. Then, based on the outcome of my little experiment, I’d decide how much to tell him. I got back in bed. The last thing I thought of before drifting off to sleep was Midori, and how she had said in her letter that she wanted to present an offering for my spirit. I woke up the next day feeling refreshed. Later I would call Harry and arrange a meeting for that night. But first, I wanted to map out an SDR that I’d ask him to use beforehand. Putting together the route took most of the afternoon. Every element had to be done right or the route itself would be a failure. It had to move through areas with which Harry was already familiar because he wasn’t going to have an opportunity to practice. Also, at several junctures, timing would be important, and I had to walk the entirety of both Harry’s route and mine to ensure that our paths would cross only as planned. I took detailed notes as I went along, using some typing paper I picked up at a stationery store. When I was done, I stopped at a coffee shop and created a map with notations on a single sheet of paper. Then I made my way to Shin-Okubo, north of Shinjuku and a bastion of the Korean mob, where, among the unlicensed doctors and unadvertised shops hidden in crumbling apartment buildings, I was able to purchase a cloned cell phone for cash, with no ID. Next stop was Harry’s neighborhood in Iikura, just south of Roppongi, where I found a suitable Lawson’s convenience store not far from his apartment. I browsed in the reading section, folding the map into one of the magazines there. I called him from a pay phone at seven that evening. “Wake up, sleepyhead,” I told him. “Hey, what’s going on?” he asked. “I didn’t expect to hear from you for a while.” He didn’t sound groggy. Maybe he’d gotten up to see Yukiko off to the office. “I missed you,” I said. “You alone?” “Yeah.” “I need a favor.” “Name it.” “Are you free right now?” “Yeah.” “Okay. I need you to go outside and call me from a pay phone. There’s one near the Lawson’s at Azabu Iikura Katamachi, to the left as you’re facing the store. Use it. I’ll give you my number.” “This line is okay, you know that.” “Just in case. This is sensitive.” I used our usual code to give him my cell phone number. Ten minutes later the unit rang. “Okay, what’s so sensitive?” he asked. “I think someone might be following you.” There was a short silence. “Are you serious?” “Stop looking over your shoulder. If they’re there right now I don’t want you to tip them off. You wouldn’t see them that way anyway.” Another silence. Then: “I don’t get it. I’m awfully careful.” “I know you are.” “Why do you think this?” “Not over the phone.” “You want to meet?” “Yes. But I want you to pick something up first. I’ve inserted a note behind the back cover of the second-to-the-back issue of this week’s “Will do.” A half-hour passed. The cell phone rang again. “You retrieve it?” I asked. “Yeah. I see what you’re up to.” “Good. Just follow the route. Start at eight thirty sharp. When you’re done, wait for me at the place I’ve indicated on the note. You know how to interpret the place I’ve indicated.” My reference to “interpretation” was a reminder that he wasn’t to take our meeting place literally, but was instead to use the Tokyo Yellow Pages per our usual code to divine my true intent. If people were following Harry and they moved on him right now, presumably they’d pick up the note, see the location of the meet, and go to the wrong place to ambush me. “Understood,” he said. “Be cool. You’ve got nothing to worry about. I’ll explain everything when I see you. And don’t worry if I’m a little late.” “No worries. I’ll see you later.” I hung up. Harry had been clean when we’d gotten together at Teize, but that didn’t mean he’d been clean beforehand. I’d taught him to start out his SDRs unobtrusively, acting like any other civilian so that anyone who might be watching him would be lulled into believing he was no more than that. But the low-level stuff was only for the outset. As the route progresses, it becomes increasingly aggressive, less concerned with lulling potential followers and more concerned with forcing them into the open. You get off a subway car and wait until the platform is completely empty, then get back on a train going in the opposite direction. You turn corners, stop, and wait to see who rushes around just behind you. You use a lot of elevators, which forces followers to snuggle up with you shoulder-to-shoulder or let you go. Et cetera. The idea is that it’s better to get caught acting like a spy than it is to lead the bad guys to the source you’re trying to protect in the first place. Harry would have observed the protocol on his way to Teize when we met there. And, as his counter-surveillance moves became more aggressive, his followers would have had to choose between being spotted, on the one hand, and giving up the quarry so as not to alert him and trying again another day, on the other. If they’d chosen door number 2, Harry would have shown up at the meeting clean, never knowing that he’d been followed a little while earlier. And, having seen him engage in blatant counter-surveillance tactics, his followers would then assume that he had something to hide, perhaps the very thing they were looking for. They would intensify coverage as a result. Tonight’s exercise was intended to determine whether all this was indeed the case. The route I’d devised was designed to take whoever might be following Harry in a circle through the Ebisu Garden Palace, a multistoried outdoor shopping arcade that would afford me several opportunities to unobtrusively watch him and whatever might be trailing in his wake. It was aggressive enough to enable me to spot a tail, but not so aggressive as to scare the tail off. Except at the end, when Harry would pull away in front and I would close in from behind. At eight o’clock I made my way to the Rue Favart restaurant on the corner of Ebisu 4-chome, across from the Sapporo Building. I wanted to get there early to ensure that I would get one of the three window seats on the restaurant’s third floor, which would give me a direct view of the sidewalk that Harry would shortly be using. If the tables were taken, I would have time to wait. I was hungry, too, and the Rue, with its eclectic collection of pastas and sandwiches, would be a good spot to fuel up. I had enjoyed the place from time to time while living in Tokyo and was looking forward to being back. I followed a waitress up the wooden stairs to the third floor, taking in the zany décor on the way-lime green walls with enormous flower murals, helter-skelter chairs and tables of wood and metal and molded plastic. The window seats were indeed all occupied when I arrived, but I told the waitress not to worry, I would be happy to wait for the privilege of such a splendid view. I sat on a small sofa, enjoying an iced coffee and the hallucinatory ceiling murals of beetles and moths and dragonflies. After a half-hour, the two office ladies at one of the window seats departed, and I took their table. I ordered the shiitake mushroom risotto and a minestrone soup, asking if they could bring it in a hurry because I was hoping to catch a nine thirty movie. I would need to leave immediately after Harry passed by, and had to time things right. I thought about what I would do if my experiment were successful-that is, if I confirmed that Harry was indeed being followed. The answer, I supposed, depended largely on who they were, and why they were interested. My main concern was that nothing should interfere with my preparations for departure, which, now that I had finished the “favor” for Tatsu, I was going to have to accelerate. I had to protect my plans, even if it meant leaving Harry on his own. The risotto was good, and I would have liked more time to enjoy it at my leisure. Instead, I ate quickly, watching the street below. When I was done, I checked my watch. Just enough time for one of the Rue’s celebrated hot cocoas, dense concoctions crafted with pure cocoa and dollops of whipped cream, of which the Rue serves no more than twenty a day. I ordered one and savored it while I waited and watched. I saw Harry at a little after nine, moving clockwise from Ebisu station toward Kusunoki-dori. He was moving quickly, as I’d instructed him. At this time of the evening, Ebisu comprises mostly pleasure-seekers attracted to the swank restaurants and bars of the Garden Court complex. The pace of the area is accordingly relaxed. Anyone attempting to match Harry’s speed would find himself out of sync with the area’s rhythms, and therefore conspicuous. I spotted the first likely candidate as Harry turned right onto Kusunoki-dori at the Ebisu 4-chome police box. A young Japanese in a navy suit, slight of build, with gelled hair and wire-rimmed glasses. He was following about ten meters behind Harry on the opposite side of the street-sound technique, as most people are aware, if at all, only of what is transpiring directly behind them. I couldn’t yet be sure, of course, but from his position and his manner, and his pace, I had a feeling. Harry continued to move away from my position. Two groups of young Japanese now appeared farther back in his wake, but I dismissed them as unlikely. Their manner was too relaxed, and they were too young. Next was a Caucasian, a big guy, the sack drape of his dark suit and confident cadences of his gait both American, moving quickly down the sidewalk. Could be a businessman, staying at the nearby Westin Hotel, in a hurry for an appointment. Or not. I filed him as a possible. Harry disappeared, obscured by the branches of one of the A moment later Harry reappeared, retracing his steps, now on the south side of the street. He paused to examine the illuminated map on the corner in front of the Sapporo Building, diagonally across from the police box where the American, suddenly no longer in a hurry for his appointment, indulged his newfound interest in Japan’s Most Wanted. Harry’s U-turn had been moderately aggressive, but not so provocative, I thought, as to cause his pursuers to let him go for the night. They wouldn’t feel that he had made them. Not yet. Harry moved right onto Platanus Avenue. The American held his position. A moment later the Japanese appeared from beyond my field of vision. When he, too, had turned right onto Platanus, the American fell in behind him. I waited another minute to see whether anyone else tickled my radar, but no one did. I got up and took the stairs to the first floor, where I paid and thanked the proprietor for an excellent meal. Then I cut across the Garden Court complex and took the stairs to the second floor of the outdoor promenade. I leaned against the waist-high stone wall in front of the Garden Court Tower office complex like a sentry on a castle keep, watching the foot traffic moving through the esplanade below. I knew that Harry had taken one of the underground passages to the esplanade and was pausing for a bit of window-shopping en route to give me time to get in position. After a few minutes, I saw him emerge from below me and begin walking diagonally across the esplanade, away from where I was standing. Had I wanted to, I could have set up at the other end of the promenade, where I would have been able to watch him and any followers as they approached me, but I was now ninety percent certain that I’d spotted the tails and didn’t need to risk giving them an opportunity to spot me. There they were, fanned out behind him like two points at the base of a moving scalene triangle. I noticed that the Japanese was looking around now at the windows of the esplanade’s stores and restaurants and at the people looking down from the promenade above. I saw his head start to swivel to check his rear and, although I was likely to remain anonymous among the other onlookers around me, I moved back a few steps to ensure that I would remain unseen. The Japanese was showing decent, but in this case futile, counter-surveillance awareness. He had obviously noted that Harry was leading him in a circle, a classic counter-surveillance tactic that gives a static team multiple opportunities to try to spot a tail. I had anticipated such a reaction, though, and from here on, the route would be comfortingly straightforward, right up until the moment that Harry would exit the scene and I would make a surprise appearance. I waited ten seconds, then eased forward again. Harry had just reached the top of the incline that would take him out of the esplanade and toward the skywalk of Ebisu station. The Japanese and American kept their positions behind him. I watched until all three of them had moved out of my field of vision, then waited to ascertain whether there might be more of them. I was unsurprised to discover no one of interest. If their numbers had been greater, they would have switched positions to avoid potential counter-surveillance when they sensed they were being moved in a circle. That they hadn’t was a strong indication that this was only a two-person team. I checked my watch. Fifteen minutes to go. I took the underground passage to the Westin, where I caught a cab to nearby Hiro. Harry and his two admirers were now walking to the same place; taking the cab ensured that I would be there early to greet them. I had the cab let me off on Meiji-dori, where I ducked into a Starbucks. “What can I get you?” the counter girl asked me in Japanese. “Just a coffee,” I said. “Grande. And can you make it extra hot?” “Sorry, the coffee drips at precisely ninety-eight degrees centigrade and is served at eighty-five degrees. I can’t change it.” “Oh, the tea is very hot. There’s no dripping, so it’s made and served at ninety-eight degrees.” “Wonderful. I’ll have a grande Earl Grey.” She made the tea and set it on the counter next to the register. I paid for it and picked it up. “Wait,” she said. She handed me an extra cup. “This will keep it hot.” I smiled at her thoughtfulness. “Thank you,” I said. The detour had taken about four minutes. I moved a few hundred meters farther up the right side of the street to a small playground, where I sat on a corner bench. I set down the tea and used the cloned cell phone to confirm that the taxi I had ordered was waiting. It was indeed, and I told the dispatcher that the passenger would be there in just a few minutes. Five minutes later I saw Harry heading in my direction. He made a left on a nameless street that would take him into a rather dark and quiet residential area. Not the kind of place where you could catch a cab. Luckily, Harry knew there would be one waiting for him. His two friends, of course, were going to be shit out of luck. There they were, one on each side of the street. The American was now in the lead, on my side. He cut across and followed Harry into the neighborhood. Ten seconds later the Japanese followed. I picked up the tea and moved in behind them. Fifty meters left, fifty meters right, fifty meters left again. These streets were exceptionally narrow, flanked by white concrete walls. Almost a labyrinth. I walked slowly. I couldn’t see them from this far back, but I knew where they were going. Three minutes later a cab pulled out from in front of me and headed in my direction. I glanced at the back window and saw Harry. I was glad to see that this part had gone smoothly. Had there been a problem, Harry would have turned around and just kept walking and I would have improvised. What I wanted, though, was that this sudden and somewhat theatrical loss of their quarry would cause his pursuers to come together for a consultation. I would have an easier time of it if I could surprise them simultaneously. Neither Harry nor I gave any sign of acknowledgment as the cab passed my position. I continued ahead, making a right onto the street from which the cab had just emerged. The street was about thirty meters long, turning ninety degrees to the right at the end. No sign of Tweedledee and Tweedledum. No problem. The place Harry had led them to was a dead end. I reached the end of the street and turned right. There they were, about twelve meters away. The Japanese guy had his left side to me. He was talking to the American. The American was facing me, an unlit cigarette in his mouth. He was holding a lighter at waist level, flicking it, trying to get it going. I forced myself to keep my pace casual, just another pedestrian. My heart began to beat harder. I could feel it pounding in my chest, behind my ears. Ten meters. I popped the plastic lid off the paper cup with my thumb. I felt it tumble past the back of my hand. Seven meters. Adrenaline was slowing down my perception of the scene. The Japanese guy glanced in my direction. He looked at my face. His eyes began to widen. Five meters. The Japanese guy reached out for the American, the gesture urgent even through my adrenalized slow-motion vision. He grabbed the American’s arm and started pulling on it. Three meters. The American looked up and saw me. The cigarette dangled from his lips. There was no recognition in his eyes. Two meters. I stepped in and flung the cup forward. Its contents of ninety-eight degrees centigrade Earl Grey tea exited and caught the American directly in the face and neck. His hands flew up and he shrieked. I turned to the Japanese. His eyes were popped all the way open, his head rotating back and forth in the universal gestures of negation. He started to raise his hands as though to ward me off. I grabbed his shoulders and shoved him into the wall. Using the same forward momentum, I stepped in and kneed him squarely in the balls. He grunted and doubled over. I turned back to the American. He was bent forward, staggering, his hands clutching at his face. I grabbed the collar of his jacket and the back of his trousers and accelerated him headfirst into the wall like a matador with a bull. His body shuddered from the impact and he dropped to the ground. The Japanese guy was lying on his side, clutching his crotch, gasping. I hauled him up by the lapels and shoved his back against the wall. I looked left, then right. It was just the three of us. “Tell me who you are,” I said in Japanese. He made retching noises. I could see he was going to need a minute. Keeping my left hand pressed against his throat, I patted him down to confirm that he didn’t have a weapon, then checked his ears and jacket to ensure that he wasn’t wired for sound. He was clean. I reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a wallet. I flipped it open. The ID was right in front, in a slip-in laminated protector. Tomohisa Kanezaki. Second Secretary, Consular Affairs, U.S. Embassy. The bald eagle logo of the U.S. Department of State showed blue and yellow in the background. So these characters were with the CIA. I slipped the wallet into one of my pants pockets so I could examine its contents later at my leisure. “Pull yourself together, Kanezaki-san,” I said, switching to English. “Or this time I’ll hurt you for real.” “ His Japanese was American-accented. “Use English,” I told him. “I don’t have time to give you a language lesson.” “Okay, all right,” he said. The panting had slowed a little. “My name is Tomohisa Kanezaki. I’m with the U.S. Embassy here in Tokyo.” “I know who you are. I just looked at your wallet. What were you doing following that man?” He took a deep breath and grimaced. His eyes were watering from the ball shot. “We were trying to find you. You’re John Rain.” “You were trying to find me, why?” “I don’t know. The parameters I was given…” I shoved hard against his throat and got in his face. “I’m not interested in your parameters. Ignorance is not going to be bliss for you. Not tonight. Understand?” He tried to push me away. “Just let me fucking talk for a minute, okay? If you keep choking me, I’m not going to be able to tell you anything!” I was taken aback by his gumption. He sounded more petulant than afraid. I realized this kid didn’t understand the kind of trouble he was in. If he didn’t tell me what I wanted to know I would have to adjust his attitude. I shot a quick glance at his prone friend, then back at him. “Talk fast,” I told him. “I was only supposed to locate you. I was explicitly told not to make contact.” “What was supposed to happen after you located me?” “My superiors would take it up from there.” “But you know who I am.” “I told you, yes.” I nodded. “Then you know what I’m going to do to you if I find any of your answers unsatisfactory.” He blanched. I seemed to be getting through to him. “Who’s he?” I asked, gesturing with my head to the prone American. “Diplomatic security. The parameters… I was told that under no circumstances was I to take a chance on encountering you alone.” A bodyguard. Sounded possible. The guy hadn’t recognized me, I’d seen that. He was probably here just for protection and surveillance tag team. Or he could have been the triggerman. The Agency relies on contractor cutouts for its wetwork, people like me. He might have been one of them. “You’re not supposed to encounter me alone because…,” I said. “Because you’re dangerous. We have a dossier on you.” The one Holtzer would have put together. Right. “The man you were following,” I said. “Tell me about that.” He nodded. “His name is Haruyoshi Fukasawa. He’s your only known associate. We were following him to get to you.” “That’s not enough.” He gave me a cold stare, looking like he was prepared to tough things out. “That’s all I know.” His partner groaned and started to pull himself up onto his knees. Kanezaki glanced at him, and I knew what he was thinking: If his partner recovered, I would have a hard time controlling the two of them. “You’re not telling me what you know, Kanezaki,” I said. “Let me show you something.” I took a step over to his partner, who was now facing us on all fours, grunting something unintelligible. I bent down, took hold of his chin with one hand and the side of his head with the other, and gave a sudden, decisive twist. His neck snapped with a loud crack and he flopped to the ground. I let go of his head and stepped back to Kanezaki. His eyes were bulging, shifting from me to the corpse and back again. “Oh my fucking God!” he spluttered. “Oh my God!” “First time you’ve seen something like that?” I asked, my tone deliberately casual. “It gets easier as you go along. Of course, in your case, the next time you see it, it’s going to be happening to you.” His face was white and getting whiter, and I wondered for a moment if there was some danger that he might faint. I needed to help him focus. “Kanezaki. You were telling me about Haruyoshi Fukasawa. About how you knew that he’s an associate of mine. Keep going, please.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “We knew… we knew he was connected to you because we intercepted a letter.” “A letter?” His eyes opened. “From him to Midori Kawamura, in New York. Mentioning you.” And spreads, to the people around you. “Keep going,” I said, scowling. “Jesus Christ, I’m telling you that’s all I know!” If he panicked completely, I wouldn’t get anything useful. The trick was to keep him scared, but not so scared that he began to make things up just to please me. “All right,” I told him. “That’s all you know about how. But you still haven’t told me about why. Why you were trying to find me.” “Look, you know I can’t talk about…” I seized his throat hard. His eyes bulged. He snaked one arm between mine and tried to lever my grip open. It looked like something he might have picked up in one of the Agency’s weekend personal security courses. Kudos to him for remembering it under pressure. Too bad it didn’t work. “Kanezaki,” I said, loosening the grip enough so he could breathe, “in one minute you will either go on living or someone will find you next to your friend there. Which it is depends entirely on what you say to me in that minute. Now start talking.” I felt him swallow beneath the pressure from my hand. “All right, all right,” he said. He was talking fast now. “For ten years the USG has been pressuring Japan to reform its banks and get its finances in order. For ten years things have only gotten worse. The economy is beginning to collapse now. If the collapse continues, Japan will be the first domino to fall. Southeast Asia, Europe, and America will be next. The country has to reform. But the vested interests are so deeply entrenched that reform is impossible.” I looked at him. “You’ve got about forty seconds left. You’re not doing well.” “Okay, okay! Tokyo Station has been tasked with an action program of furthering reform and removing impediments to reform. The program is called Crepuscular. We know what you’ve been doing freelance. I think… I think what my superiors want to ask you for is your assistance.” “For what purpose?” I asked. “For removing impediments.” “But you aren’t sure of that?” “Look, I’ve been with the Agency for three years. There’s a lot they don’t tell me. But anyone who knows your history and knows about Crepuscular can put two and two together.” I looked at him, considering my options, Kill him? His superiors wouldn’t know what had happened. But they’d assume I’d been behind it, of course. And although they wouldn’t be able to get to me, they had a good fix on Harry and Midori. No, killing this kid wasn’t going to get the Agency out of my life. Or out of Harry’s or Midori’s. “I’ll think about your proposal,” I told him. “You can tell your superiors I said so.” “I didn’t propose anything. I was only speculating. If I tell my superiors what we just talked about, I’ll be sent back to Langley for a desk job.” “Tell them anything you want. If I’m interested, I’ll get in touch with you. You personally. If I’m not interested, I’ll expect you to understand that my silence means no. I’ll also expect you to stop trying to find me, especially through other people. If I learn that you aren’t respecting these wishes, I’ll hold you responsible. You, personally. Do you understand?” He started to say something, then gagged. I saw what was coming and stepped out of the way. He leaned over and vomited. I took it as a yes. I walked back to Ebisu and caught a Yamanote train to Shibuya. I took the Miyamasuzaka exit to Shibuya 1-chome, then walked the short distance to the Hatou coffee shop. Windowless Hatou, with its dark wood floors and tables and long I walked in the street-level door. The counterman issued a low When he was done he bowed and welcomed me again. I returned the gesture and made my way to the back. I turned left at the end of the L-shaped room and saw Harry sitting at one of the three back tables. “Hey,” he said, standing up and offering his hand. I shook it. “Glad to see you found the place okay.” He nodded. “Your directions were good.” I looked at the table, empty but for a glass of ice water. “No coffee?” “I didn’t know when you were going to get here, so I ordered two old-bean demitasses. Something called the Nire Blend. It takes a half-hour to prepare. I figured you’d like it-the waitress says it’s ‘exceptionally intense.” ’ I smiled again. “It is. I’m not sure it’ll be to your taste.” He shrugged. “I like to try new things.” We sat down. “Well? How did it turn out?” he asked. I took out Kanezaki’s wallet and slid it across the table to him. “You were being followed,” I said. He opened it and looked at the ID inside. “Oh, shit,” he said softly. “CIA?” I nodded. “But how? Why?” I briefed him on my conversation with Kanezaki. “So it looks like they were interested in me only because they’re interested in you,” he said when I was done. I nodded slowly. “It looks that way.” “I wonder if they know who I am, other than that I’m somehow connected to you.” “Impossible to say. They might have cross-checked with other agencies, in which case they would know you were once with the NSA. But they’re not always so thorough.” “They did a nice job of tracking me from that letter, though. Stupid of me to send it.” “There’s more than meets the eye there. The letter alone doesn’t sound like enough. But I didn’t have time to ask.” We were quiet for a minute. Then he said, “It might have been enough. I only signed it with my first name, but my parents chose three “They must have been watching Midori, too,” I said. He nodded. “Yeah. She was a known point of contact. They might have been doing spot surveillance and mail checks, hoping she’d hear from you. Instead they got me.” “I’ll buy that,” I said. “And I mailed that letter near the main Chuo-ku post office, not so far from where I work. There would have been a postmark. They could have used it to work outward in concentric circles. That was dumb. I should have mailed it from somewhere out of the way.” “You can’t be too careful,” I said, looking at him. He sighed. “I’m going to have to move again. Can’t have them knowing where I live.” “Don’t forget, they also know where you work.” “I don’t care about that. A lot of what I do now, I do remotely. On the days where I have to go to and from the office, I’ll run an extra-careful SDR.” “You haven’t been doing that already?” “Sorry. Not as much as I should be. But believe me, I’m careful when I go to see you.” This was an unavoidable problem. Inside computer networks, Harry was pure stealth. But in the real world, he was mostly a civilian. A weak spot in my armor. I shrugged. “If you weren’t, those guys would have gotten to me by now. Maybe at Teize, maybe another time. Your moves shook them off.” He brightened a little at that, then said, “You don’t think I’m in any danger, do you?” I thought about it. I hadn’t mentioned that Kanezaki’s partner hadn’t survived our meeting. I told him now. “Shit,” he said. “That’s what I’m talking about. What if they want payback?” “I don’t think they’d look to extract it from you. If this were a “What about the police? A taxi picked me up at the same spot where someone is going to find a body.” “Kanezaki will make a few calls and that body will be gone before anyone stumbles across it. And even if the cops were to get involved, what do they have? Even if they found a way to contact the cabdriver, all he’s got is a fake name and an average-looking guy he barely saw in the dark, right?” “I guess that’s true.” “But you still have to be cautious,” I said. “This girl you’re involved with, Yukiko, you trust her?” He looked at me. After a moment, he nodded. “Because, if you’re spending the night with this girl, she knows where you live. That’s a weakness in your defenses right there.” “Yeah, but she’s not involved with these people…” “You never know, Harry. You never really know.” There was a long pause, then he said, “I can’t live that way. The way you do.” A thought flashed in my mind: But that wasn’t fair. Or particularly useful. The waitress brought two demitasses of the Nire Blend and set them down with exquisite care, as though they were priceless artifacts. She bowed and moved away. We drank the coffee. Harry said positive things about his, but there was some obvious effort behind this. It used to be that he would delight in mocking my gustatory recommendations. I couldn’t help noticing the contrast, and I didn’t care for it. We made small talk. When the coffee was done, we said good night, and I left him to make my circuitous way back to the hotel. I wondered if I really believed that the Agency posed little danger to Harry. I supposed that mostly I did. Whether they posed a danger to me was another story. They might have wanted me for help, as Kanezaki had said. Or they might have been looking for payback for Holtzer. I had no way to be sure. Regardless, eliminating Kanezaki’s escort earlier wasn’t exactly going to engender endearment. And there was Yukiko. She still didn’t feel right to me, and I had no way of knowing whether she was hooked up with the Agency or with someone else. Back at the hotel, I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, again unable to sleep. I was suddenly less certain than I had been the night before that this would be my last in Tokyo. I stared at the ceiling for a long time before descending into sleep. |
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