“That’s true,” I said, noting that he had initially spoken of what “we” want and was now saying “I.”
“Well, that’s what needs to be done. Is there a usual fee?”
“For a CIA officer? The fee would be high.”
“All right. What is it?”
He was eager enough so that I was half-tempted to bilk him. Make him pay up front, then Sayonara, asshole.
And maybe I would. But I still had a few questions.
“Let me ask you,” I said, furrowing my brow in my best Columbo imitation. “How do you know about me? About my services?”
“The Agency has a dossier on you,” he said. “Most of it assembled through Holtzer’s efforts.”
“Oh,” I said. “Of course. That makes sense. And when you first started looking for me, was it for the same job you’re offering me today?”
He wouldn’t know that I was aware he had been with Kanezaki when he had first approached Tatsu inquiring about my whereabouts. The question was designed to trip him up.
But it didn’t. “No,” he said. “The original thinking was that we could use you for Crepuscular. But the program is done now, as I said. There may still be some role in the future, but for now I just need you to tie up loose ends.”
I nodded. “It’s just that it’s strange. I mean, you had Kanezaki looking for me, right?”
“Yes,” he said. His tone was cautious, as though he was afraid of what I might ask next and was already trying to think of an answer.
“Well, isn’t that odd? Given that you actually wanted me to ‘interfere’ with him.”
He shook his head. “He was only supposed to locate you, not actually meet you. I was going to handle the meeting personally.”
I smiled, seeing the truth.
“All right,” he said. “I’d read your dossier. I thought it was possible that, if you learned that someone was trying to find you, you might, as you put it, see that person as a threat and act accordingly.”
I almost laughed. Biddle had been looking for a freebie.
“What about the guy who was with him at the time?” I asked. “Kanezaki said he was diplomatic security.”
“He was. What of it?”
“Why would you offer a bodyguard to a guy you wanted taken out?”
He pursed his lips. “Solo surveillance against someone like you is impossible. Kanezaki needed a partner. I wanted someone from outside the Agency, someone who wouldn’t know what was really going on.”
“Someone expendable.”
“If you want to put it that way.”
“Mr. Biddle,” I said, “I’m getting the feeling that this is a personal matter.”
There was a long pause, then he said, “What if it is?”
I shrugged. “It’s all the same to me, as long as I get paid. But we’re not off to a good start. You’ve been telling me that the problem with Kanezaki is that he’s a rogue, that his activities could cause embarrassment on both sides of the Pacific. It sounds as though the potential embarrassment is more localized than that.”
He looked at me. “What I told you is not untrue. But yes, I have personal reasons, as well. What do you think is going to happen to me as Kanezaki’s direct supervisor if his activities are discovered?”
“Likely a shit storm. But I don’t see how Kanezaki’s suicide would solve your problems. Won’t there still be records of his activities? Receipts from disbursements, that kind of thing?”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m taking care of that,” he said.
“Sure, you know better than I do. I’m just mentioning it. By the way, where do you suppose Kanezaki has been getting the money to run Crepuscular even after the higher-ups have shut off the spigot? I imagine we’re talking about some significant sums.”
He glanced to his right. The glance said, Think of something.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“If you keep lying to me,” I said, my tone mild, “I’m going to start seeing you as a threat.”
He looked at me for a long moment. Finally he said, “All right. Kanezaki has been getting the money from a man named Fumio Tanaka. Someone with inherited money and the right political sympathies. I don’t see that as relevant to the job at hand.”
I paused as though considering. “Well, even if Kanezaki goes away, Tanaka is still around, isn’t he? Why don’t I interfere with his activities, too?”
He shook his head violently. “No,” he said. “That won’t be necessary. I’ve asked for your assistance with a particular matter and would like an answer with regard to that matter only, please.”
“I’ll need a way to contact you,” I said.
“Will you take the job?”
I looked at him. “I want to think about your story first. If I decide I can work with you safely, I’ll do it.”
He took out a Mont Blanc Meisterstück, unscrewed it, and scrawled a number on a napkin. “You can reach me here,” he said.
“Oh, one more thing,” I said, taking the napkin. “The guy you were using to try to get to me. Haruyoshi Fukasawa. He died recently.”
He swallowed. “I know. Kanezaki told me.”
“What do you think happened there?”
“From what Kanezaki told me, I gather it was an accident.”
I nodded. “The thing is, Fukasawa was a friend of mine. He wasn’t much of a drinker. But apparently he was loaded when he fell from that roof. Strange, isn’t it?”
“If you think we had something to do with this…”
“Maybe you can just tell me who did.”
He glanced to his right again. “I don’t know.”
“Your people were following Harry. And I know his death was no accident. If you can’t do any better than what you’ve already told me, I’m going to start assuming that it was you.”
“I’m telling you, I don’t know who did it. Even assuming it wasn’t an accident.”
“How did you find out where Harry lived in the first place?”
He repeated Kanezaki’s story about Midori’s letter.
“With only that to go on, you must have used local resources,” I suggested.
He looked at me. “You seem to know a lot. But I’m not going to start confirming or denying the specifics of local resources for you. If you suspect local resources might have been involved in your friend’s death, I can’t help you. As I said, I don’t know.”
I wasn’t going to get any more out of him in a place like this. I wished for a second we were alone.
I got up to go. “I’ll be in touch,” I said.
Tatsu and I had agreed to meet in Yoyogi Park after I’d braced Biddle. I went there, taking the usual precautions. He was already waiting, sitting on a bench beneath one of the park’s thousands of maple trees, reading a newspaper, looking like some of the retirees in the area who were passing the day doing the same thing.
“How did it go?” he asked.
I briefed him on what Biddle had told me.
“I know of Tanaka,” he said when I was done. “His father founded an electronics company in the twenties that survived the war and prospered afterward. Tanaka sold it when his father died and has been living off the considerable proceeds ever since. He is said to have an enormous libido, particularly for a man nearing seventy. He is also said to be addicted to codeine and other narcotics.”
“What about his politics?”
“He has none, so far as I know.”
“Then why would he want to fund an Agency program to aid reformers?”
“I’d like you to help me find out.”
“Why?”
He looked at me. “I need a bad cop. And we may get a lead about Murakami.”
“Nothing from the guy you took into custody?”
He shook his head. “The problem is that he is much more afraid of his boss than he is of me. But I’ve always been impressed by how much a man’s attitudes will change at between forty-eight and seventy-two hours of sleep deprivation. We may learn something yet.”
He took out his cell phone and input a number. Asked a few questions. Listened. Issued instructions. Then he said, “So da. So da. So.” That’s right. That’s right. Yes.