“Line them up right,” he said. “Take out all three.”
“Tatsu, you don’t understand this guy’s instincts. He doesn’t let anyone line up anything. When we got out of the Benz in front of his club, I saw him scoping rooftops for snipers. He knew where to look, too. He’d feel me lining him up from a mile away. Just like I’d feel him. Forget it.”
He frowned. “How can I convince you?”
“You can’t. Look, this was a risky proposition to begin with, but I was willing to undertake the risk in return for what you can do for me. I’ve learned that the risk is now greater than I had originally thought. The reward is the same. So the equation has changed. It’s no more complicated than that.”
Neither of us said anything for a long time. Finally, he sighed and said, “What will you do, retire?”
“Maybe.”
“You can’t retire.”
I paused. When I spoke, my voice was quiet, not much more than a whisper. “I hope you’re not saying that you might interfere.”
He didn’t flinch. “There would be no need for me to interfere,” he said. “You don’t have retirement in you. I wish you could recognize that. What will you do, find an island somewhere, spend time on the beach catching up on all the books you’ve been missing? Join a go club? Anesthetize yourself with whiskey when your restless memories refuse to permit sleep?”
But for the jellifying effects of the heat, I might have gotten upset at that.
“Maybe therapy,” he went on. “Yes, therapy is popular these days. It could help you come to terms with all the lives you have taken. Perhaps even with the one you have decided to waste.”
I looked at him. “You’re trying to goad me, Tatsu,” I said softly.
“You need goading.”
“Not from you.”
He frowned. “You say you might retire. I understand that. But what I’m doing is important and right. This is our country.”
I snorted. “It’s not ‘our’ country. I’m just a visitor.”
“Who told you that?”
“Everyone who mattered.”
“They would be glad to know that you listened.”
“Enough. I owed you. I paid. I’m done.”
I got up and rinsed with cold water at one of the spigots. He did the same. We changed and walked down the stairs.
Just outside the entranceway, he turned to me. “Rain-san,” he said. “Will I see you again?”
I looked at him. “Are you a threat to me?” I asked.
“Not if you are really going to retire, no.”
“Then we might see each other. But not for a while.”
“Then we needn’t say sayonara.”
“We needn’t say it.”
He smiled his sad smile. “I have a request.”
I smiled back. “With you, Tatsu, it would be a little dangerous to agree to anything up front.”
He nodded, accepting the point. “Ask yourself what you hope to get out of retirement. And whether retirement will achieve it.”
I said, “That I can do.”
“Thank you.”
He extended his hand and I shook it.
“De wa,” I said, by way of goodbye. Well, then.
He nodded again. “Ki o tsukete,” he said, a farewell that can be intended as an innocuous Take care or as a more literal Be careful.
The ambiguity felt deliberate.
13
I WAITED UNTIL after seven that evening, when I knew Yukiko would have left for the club, then called Harry. I was going to tell him what he needed to hear. I owed him that much. What he decided to do with the information would then be his problem, not mine.
We set up a meeting at a coffee shop in Nippori. I told him to take his time getting there. He understood the translation: With the Agency snooping around, do a damn thorough SDR.
I got there early per my usual practice and passed the time sipping an espresso and leafing through a magazine someone had left on the table. After about an hour Harry showed up.
“Hey, kid,” I said when I saw him. I noticed he was wearing a stylish lambskin jacket, and wool trousers instead of the usual jeans. He’d gotten a haircut, too. He looked nearly presentable. I realized there was no way he was going to listen to me, and almost decided not to bother telling him.
But that wouldn’t be right. I would give him the information, and it would be his responsibility to use it. Or not.
He sat down and, before I could open my mouth, said, “Don’t worry. There’s no way I was followed.”
“Doesn’t that go without saying?”
His eyes started to widen, then he saw I was just giving him a hard time. He smiled.
“You look good,” I told him, my expression slightly bemused.
He looked at me, trying to gauge, I knew, whether he was being set up for a ribbing of some sort. “You think so?” he asked, his tone tentative.
I nodded. “Looks like you got your hair cut at one of those expensive places in Omotesando.”
He reddened. “I did.”
“Don’t blush. It was worth whatever you paid for it.”
He blushed harder. “Don’t tease me.”
I laughed. “I’m only half teasing.”
“What’s going on?”
“Why does something have to be going on? Maybe I just missed you.”
He gave me an uncharacteristically streetwise look. I had a feeling I knew where he’d picked it up. “Yeah, I missed you, too.”
I wasn’t looking forward to the turn the conversation would take when I brought up Yukiko, and felt no hurry to get there.
A waitress came by. Harry ordered a coffee and some carrot cake.
“You hear from any of our new government friends lately?” I asked him.
“Not a peep. You must have scared them.”
“I wouldn’t count on that.” I took a sip of espresso and looked at him. “You still in the same place?”
“Yeah. But I’m almost ready to move. You know how it is. The preparations take a while if you want to do it right.”
We were silent for a moment, and I thought, Here we go.
“Planning on spending time with Yukiko at the new place?”
He gave me a wary look. “Maybe.”
“Then I wouldn’t bother moving.”
He flinched, his expression characteristically befuddled beneath the slick new haircut.
“Why?” he asked, his tone uncertain.
“She’s mixed up with some bad people, Harry.”
He frowned. “I know.”
It was my turn to be surprised. “You know?”
He nodded, still frowning. “She told me.”
“Told you what?”
“Told me the club is run by the yakuza. So what? They all are.”
“She tell you she’s involved with one of the owners?”
“What do you mean, ‘involved’?”
“ ‘Involved,’ as in closely involved.”
He was tapping his foot nervously under the table. I could feel the vibration.
“I don’t know what she has to do at the club. It’s probably better if I don’t.”
He was in denial. This was going to be a waste of time.
All right. I’d modify my approach and try one more time.
“Okay,” I said. “I’m sorry for bringing it up.”
He looked at me for a moment, off balanced. “How do you even know about any of this?” he asked. “Are you sneaking around behind my back?”
I didn’t care for the question, although I supposed its substance wasn’t too far off the mark. My answer wasn’t exactly a lie. Just incomplete.
“I’ve developed a… relationship with the yakuza who I think owns Damask Rose. A stone killer named Murakami. He took me there. He and Yukiko were obviously well acquainted. I saw them leave together.”
“That’s what you wanted to tell me? It sounds like he’s her boss. They left together, so what?”
Open your eyes, you idiot, I wanted to say. This woman is a shark. She’s from a different world, a different species. There’s something way fucking wrong here.
Instead: “Harry, my gut tends to be pretty good about these things.”