A Clean Kill in Tokyo

Benny, putting a B-team on Kawamura, playing me for a fool, and I knew I would take the risk.
    I followed them for several blocks, noting that neither exhibited any concern about what was going on behind him. From the stranger I saw no surveillance-detection behavior—no turns or stops that, however innocent seeming, would have forced a follower to reveal his position.
    At the fringes of mad Roppongi, where the crowds began to thin, the stranger turned into one of the Starbucks that are exterminating the traditional
kissaten,
the neighborhood coffee shops. Telephone Man, constant as the North Star, found a public booth a few meters farther on. I crossed the street and entered a place called Freshness Burger, where I ordered their eponymous entrée and took a window seat. I watched the stranger order inside Starbucks and then take a seat at a table.
    My guess was that Telephone Man was alone. If he had been part of a team, it would have made sense for him to peel off and change places at some point to avoid detection. Also, my periodic checks as we progressed down the street hadn’t identified anyone behind me. If he had been with a team and they were as clueless as he appeared to be, I would have made them easily as we moved along.
    I sat quietly, monitoring the street, watching the stranger sipping his Starbucks beverage and checking his watch. Either he was waiting for someone to meet him there, or he was killing time before a meeting elsewhere.
    Turned out it was door number one. After about half an hour had gone by, I was surprised to see Midori heading down the street in our direction. She was checking storefronts as she walked. When she saw the Starbucks sign, she headed in.
    Telephone Man pulled out a mobile phone, pressed a key, and held the unit to his ear. Nice move for a guy standing in a public phone booth. He hadn’t needed to input the whole number, I noted, so whomever he was calling was a speed dial, someone he would call frequently.
    The stranger stood when he saw Midori approaching his table and bowed formally. The bow was good, indicating someone who had been in Japan for some time, who was comfortable with the language and culture. Midori returned his bow but at a lesser angle, uncertainty in her stance. I sensed they were not well acquainted. My guess was Alfie had been their first meeting.
    I glanced over at Telephone Man and saw him put away his mobile phone. He stayed where he was.
    The stranger gestured for Midori to sit. She accepted and he followed suit. He gestured to the counter, but Midori shook her head. She wasn’t ready to break bread with this man.
    I watched them for ten minutes. As their conversation progressed, the stranger’s gestures took on an air of entreaty, while Midori’s posture grew increasingly rigid. Finally she stood, bowed quickly, and began to back away. The stranger returned her bow, but much more deeply, and somehow awkwardly.
    Which one to follow now? I decided to leave the decision to Telephone Man.
    As Midori exited the Starbucks and headed back in the direction of Roppongi, Telephone Man watched her go but held his position. So it was the stranger he wanted, or wanted more.
    The stranger left shortly after Midori. Telephone Man and I followed him to Roppongi Station, maintaining our previous positions. I stayed with them down to the tracks, waiting a full car’s length down from both until an Ebisu-bound train arrived and we all boarded. I kept my back to them, watching in the reflection of the glass, until the train stopped in Ebisu and I saw them exit.
    I stepped off a moment later, hoping the stranger would be heading away, but he was coming toward me. Shit. I slowed my pace, then stopped in front of a station map, examining it at such an angle that neither would be able to see my face as he passed.
    It was late, and there were only a half-dozen people leaving the station with us. I kept a full riser of stairs between us as we left the bowels of the station, then let them pull ahead a good twenty meters before emerging from the station entrance to follow.
    At the edge of Daikanyama, an upscale Tokyo suburb, the stranger turned into a large apartment complex. I watched him insert a key in the entrance door, which opened electronically and then closed behind him. Telephone Man also took obvious note, then continued for about twenty paces past the entrance, where he stopped, pulled out his mobile phone, pressed a key, and spoke briefly. Then he pulled