Barry Eisler - Hard Rain

“I don’t believe this,” he said. “Do you know who I am?”

“Tell me, so we can get it right on the headstone.”

He glowered at me. After a moment, he said, “All right, I’ll tell you. But only because it makes sense for you to know, not because of your threats.” He took a sip from the china cup. “Kanezaki is a rogue. He’s been running a secret program that could cause embarrassment on both sides of the Pacific if it were to get out.”

“Crepuscular?” I asked.

His mouth dropped open. “You know… how could you possibly know about that? From Kanezaki?”

You dumb bastard , I thought. Whatever I knew, you just confirmed it .

I looked at him. “Mr. Biddle, how do you think I’ve lasted as long as I have in this line of work? I make it my business to know what I’m stepping into and whether the reward is worth the risk. That’s how I stay alive and my clients get their money’s worth.”

I waited while he digested this new worldview.

“What else do you know about this?” he asked after a moment, trying to be shrewd now.

“Plenty. Now tell me why you’ve decided that Kanezaki has become a liability. From what I understand, up until now he’s been your golden boy.”

He crinkled his nose as though at an offensive odor. “In his own mind he’s golden. Forgive me, but simply having Japanese blood doesn’t give someone special insights into this country.”

I shook my head to show him that of course his comment didn’t offend me.

“Insight into this country, any country, takes years of education, experience, sensitivity,” he said. “But this kid, he thinks he knows enough to design and run his own damn foreign policy.”

I nodded to show that I was sympathetic to his point, and he continued.

“All right, you know there was a program. But it was shut down six months ago. I don’t necessarily agree with the shutdown, but my private thoughts on the matter are irrelevant. What is relevant is that Kanezaki has been continuing it on his own.”

“I can see where that would be a problem,” I said.

“Yes, well, it’s a shame in some ways. He’s got a lot of passion and he’s not without talent. But this matter must be put to rest, before some real damage occurs.”

“What do you want me to do?” I asked.

He looked at me. “I want you to… look, I understand that you can arrange these things so that it looks as though the person did it himself.”

“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?”