A Clean Kill in Tokyo

his abdomen. He dropped to the ground with a grunt. I stepped behind him, grabbed his right hand, and twisted his wrist in a pain-compliance hold. I gave it a sharp jerk and he yelped.
    “On your feet, Benny. Move fast, or I’ll break your arm.” I gave his wrist another hard jerk to emphasize the point. He wheezed and hauled himself up, making sucking noises.
    I shoved him around the corner, put him face-first against the wall, and quickly patted him down. In his overcoat pocket I found a mobile phone, which I took, but that was all.
    I gave a last jerk on his arm, then spun him around and slammed him against the wall. He grunted but still hadn’t recovered enough wind to do more. I pinched his windpipe with the fingers of one hand and took an undergrip on his balls with the other.
    “Benny. Listen very carefully.” He started to struggle, and I pinched his windpipe harder. He got the message. “I want to know what’s going on. I want names, and they better be names I know.”
    I relaxed both grips a little, and he sucked in his breath. “I can’t tell you this stuff, you know that,” he wheezed.
    I gripped his throat again. “Benny, I’m not going to hurt you if you tell me what I want to know. But if you don’t tell me, I’ve got to blame you, understand? Tell me quick, no one’s going to know.” Again, a little more pressure on the throat—this time, cutting off all his oxygen for a few seconds. I told him to nod if he understood, and after a second or two with no air, he did. I waited another second anyway, and when the nodding got vigorous, I eased off the pressure.
    “Holtzer, Holtzer,” he rasped. “Bill Holtzer.”
    It was an effort, but I revealed no surprise at the sound of the name. “Who’s Holtzer?”
    He looked at me, his eyes wide. “You know him! From Vietnam, that’s what he told me.”
    “What’s he doing in Tokyo?”
    “He’s CIA. Tokyo Chief of Station.”
    Chief of Station? Unbelievable. He obviously still knew just which asses to kiss.
    “You’re a CIA asset, Benny? You?”
    “They pay me,” he said, breathing hard. “I needed the money.”
    “Why is he coming after me?” I asked, searching his eyes. Holtzer and I had tangled when we were in Vietnam, but he’d come out on top in the end. I couldn’t see how he’d still be carrying a grudge, even if I still carried mine.
    “He said you know where to find a disk. I’m supposed to get it back.”
    “What disk?”
    “I don’t know. All I know is that in the wrong hands it would be detrimental to the national security of the United States.”
    “Try not to sound like the Stepford bureaucrat, Benny. Tell me what’s on the disk.”
    “I don’t know! Holtzer didn’t tell me. It’s need-to-know, you know that, why would he have told me? I’m just an asset, no one tells me these things.”
    “Who’s the guy in my apartment with you?”
    “What guy—” he started to say, but I snapped his windpipe shut before he could finish. He tried to suck in air, tried to push me away, but he couldn’t. After a few seconds I eased off the pressure.
    “If I have to ask you something twice again, or if you try to lie to me again, Benny, it’s going to cost you. Who is the guy in my apartment?”
    “I don’t know him,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing. “He’s with the
Boeicho Boeikyoku.
Holtzer handles the liaison. He just told me to take the guy to your apartment so we could question you.”
    The
Boeicho Boeikyoku,
or Bureau of Defense Policy, National Defense Agency, is Japan’s CIA.
    “Why were you following me in Jinbocho?” I asked.
    “Surveillance. Trying to locate the disk.”
    “How did you find out where I live?”
    “Holtzer gave me the address.”
    “How did he get it?”
    “I don’t know. He just gave it to me.”
    “What’s your involvement?”
    “Questions. Just questions. Finding the disk.”
    “What were you supposed to do with me after you were done asking me your questions?”
    “Nothing. They just want the disk.”
    I pinched his windpipe shut again. “Bullshit, Benny, not even you could be that stupid. You knew what was going to happen afterward, even if you wouldn’t have the balls to do it yourself.”
    It was coming together. I could see it. Holtzer tells Benny to take this
Boeikyoku
guy to my apartment to “question” me. Benny figures out what’s going to happen. The little bureaucrat is scared, but he’s caught in the middle. Maybe he