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.”
Goddamn it, I thought, at the mention of her name. I just couldn’t get clear of these people. They were like cancer. You think you’ve cut it out, it always comes back.
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 hinoki counter, its hundreds of delicate porcelain cups and saucers, and its exquisitely prepared brews, had been one of my regular haunts while I lived in Tokyo, or at least as regular as I allowed any one place to become. I missed it.
I walked in the street-level door. The counterman issued a low irasshaimase but didn’t look up. Instead, he continued pouring steaming water from a silver pot into a filter perched over a blue porcelain demitasse. He was leaning to the side so that he was eye level with the pot, his arm describing small circles in the air to ensure that the water dripped uniformly through the grounds in the filter. He looked like he was painting, or conducting a miniature orchestra. It was a pleasure to behold such practiced devotion and I couldn’t help pausing to watch.
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.”
Yukiko, I thought.
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 kanji, not the usual two.” On his hand he traced the characters for “spring,” “giving,” and “ambition,” an unusual spelling for a common name.
“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.