He straightened, as though collecting himself. “Brief me now on what happened, then go, before the other officers arrive.”
I told him. He listened without a word. When I was done, he looked at me and said, “Meet me at Christie tea shop in Harajuku tonight at seven o’clock. Don’t disappear. Don’t make me have to find you.”
I knew Christie, having been there many times while living in Tokyo. “I’ll be there,” I said.
“Where is the gun?”
“Inside. In a gym bag, by the front entrance. I’d like to keep it.”
He shook his head. “I was asked about it today. I need to account for it or there will be trouble. I may be able to get you another.”
“Do that,” I said, thinking of the confident way Murakami had unsheathed his Kershaw.
He nodded, then looked at his fallen comrade. His jaw clenched, then released. “When I catch him,” he said, “that’s what I am going to do to him.”
17
I WALKED OUT to Kototoi-dori and found a cab. Although their functioning was temporarily disrupted by what had just gone down at the dojo, I knew now that Murakami’s people were aware I was in Asakusa, and the subway station would have been too likely a spot for an ambush.
The meeting Tatsu had demanded was over six hours away, and the bizarre, floating feeling of having nowhere to go and nothing to do was getting to me. I felt a rush of what someone ought to name post-traumatic-extreme-horniness disorder, and thought about calling Naomi. She’d be home right now, maybe just waking up. But with Murakami on to me, I didn’t want to go anywhere where there was even a small chance that I might be anticipated.
My pager buzzed. I checked it, saw a number I didn’t recognize.
I dialed the number from a pay phone. The other party picked up on the first ring.
“Can you tell who this is?” a male voice asked in English.
I recognized the voice. Kanezaki, my latest friend from the CIA.
“Please, just listen to what I have to say,” he went on. “Don’t hang up.”
“How did you get this number?” I asked.
“Phone records-calls made from pay phones near your friend’s apartment. But I had nothing to do with what happened to him. I just found out about it. That’s why I’m calling you.”
I thought about that. If Kanezaki had a way of accessing a record of calls made from those pay phones, he might have managed to zero in on my pager number. Harry’s practice had been to use various local pay phones to page me, after which he would return to his apartment and wait for my call. With access to the records, you might spot a pattern-the same number being called from various pay phones in the neighborhood. If there were several hits, and I imagined there would be, you just call them all and eliminate the false positives by trial and error. I supposed this was a possibility Harry and I should have considered, but it didn’t really matter. Even if someone managed to intercept my number, as Kanezaki seemed to have done, they’d learn nothing more than a pager address.
“I’m listening,” I said.
“I want to meet with you,” he said. “I think we can help each other.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. Look, I’m taking a big chance doing this. I know you might think I had something to do with what happened to your friend, and that you might want payback.”
“You might be right.”
“Yeah, well, I know you can find me eventually anyway. I figure I’m better off explaining what I think happened, rather than having to worry for the rest of my life about you sneaking up behind me.”
“What do you propose?” I asked.
“A meeting. Anyplace you want, as long as it’s public. I know if you listen to me you’ll believe me. But I’m afraid you might try to do something before you’ve listened. Like you did the last time we saw each other.”
I considered. If it was a setup, there were two ways in which they might try to get at me. The first way would be to have people watching Kanezaki, people who would move in as soon as I appeared on the scene. The second would be to monitor him remotely, with some kind of a transmitter, the way they had once done when Holtzer had tried to nail me after proposing a similar “meeting.”
The second way was more likely, because I would have a harder time spotting Kanezaki’s team if they didn’t have to keep him in visual contact. I could use Harry’s bug detector to eliminate the second possibility. I’d have to take him someplace deserted to eliminate the first.
“Where are you right now?” I asked him.
“Toranomon. Near the embassy.”
“You know Japan Sword? The antique sword shop in Toranomon 3-chome, near the station?”
“I know it.”
“Go there. I’ll see you in thirty minutes.”
“Okay.”
I clicked off. Actually, I had no intention of going to the sword shop, much as I enjoy browsing there from time to time. But I wanted Kanezaki and anyone he was with to take the trouble to set up there, while I established myself in a more secure venue.
I took a series of cabs and trains to the Imperial Palace Wadakuramon Gate. With its swarms of tourists, batteries of security cameras, and phalanxes of cops protecting the important personages inside, the Wadakuramon Gate would be a highly inconvenient place to have to gun someone down, if that’s what Kanezaki and company had in mind. Having him go there after I was already set up would force a potential surveillance team to move quickly, giving me a better chance to spot them.
I used Tatsu’s cell phone to call Kanezaki again when I had arrived. “Change of plans,” I told him.
There was a pause. “Okay.”
“Meet me at the Imperial Palace Wadakuramon Gate, across from Tokyo station. Come right now. I’m waiting in front. Approach me from Tokyo station so I can see that you’re alone.”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
I clicked off.
I found a taxi on Hibiya-dori, which intersects the boulevard that leads from Tokyo station to the Imperial Palace. I got in and asked the driver to wait, explaining that I would be meeting a friend here shortly. He clicked on the meter and we sat in silence.
Ten minutes later I saw Kanezaki approaching as I had requested. He was looking around, but didn’t spot me in the cab.
I cracked the window. “Kanezaki,” I said as he passed my position. He started and looked at me. “Get in.”
The driver activated the automatic door. Kanezaki hesitated-a cab obviously wasn’t quite the “public” place he had been hoping for. But he got over it and slid in next to me. The door closed and we drove off.
I told the driver to take us in the direction of Akihabara, Tokyo’s electronics mecca. I watched behind us but didn’t see any unusual activity. No one was scrambling to keep up with us. It looked like Kanezaki was alone.
I reached over and patted him down. Other than his cell phone, keys, and a new wallet, he wasn’t carrying anything. Harry’s detector stayed quiet.
I had the driver use backstreets to lessen the chance that someone could be tailing us. We got out, near Ochanomizu station, and from there continued a series of swift moves in trains and on foot to ensure that we were alone.
I finished the route in Otsuka, the extreme north of the Yamanote line. Otsuka is a neighborhood kind of place, albeit a somewhat seedy one, with a generous offering of massage parlors and love hotels. Beyond the locals who live and work there, it seems to cater primarily to older men in search of downmarket sexual commerce. Caucasians are rare there. If there were a surveillance team and they were white CIA-issue, Otsuka would make for a difficult approach.
We took the stairs to the second-story Royal Host restaurant across from the station. We went in and I looked around. Mostly families enjoying a night out. A couple of tired-looking salarymen avoiding an evening at home. Nobody out of place.