A Clean Kill in Tokyo

anticrime alliance between the police and the local shrines. Don’t forget, Shinto was at the center of prewar Japanese nationalism. It’s unique to Japan, and can easily be bent—has been bent—to foster the xenophobic cult of the
Yamato Gokoro,
the Japanese soul. And it’s on the rise in Japan today, though not many people realize it outside the country.”
    “You said their headquarters is in Shibakoen,” I said.
    “That’s right.”
    “Okay, then. While you’re having a crack at the encryption, I’m going to need some surveillance equipment. Infrared and laser. And video. Also a transmitter in case I can get inside. I want to listen in on our friends at
Conviction.”
    “Why?”
    “I need more information. Whose disk was this? Who’s trying to get it back? Why? Without that information, there’s not much I can do to protect myself. Or Midori.”
    “You need to get pretty close to the building to use that kind of equipment, never mind placing a transmitter. It’ll be dangerous. Why don’t you just give me some time with the lattice? Maybe everything you need is already in it.”
    “I don’t have time. It might take you a week to crack the code, or you might not be able to crack it at all. In the meantime, I’m up against the Agency, the yakuza, and an army of Shinto priests. They know where I live, and I’ve been flushed out into the open. Time is running against me. I need to end this soon.”
    “Well, why don’t you just get out of the country? At least until I’m done with the lattice. What’s keeping you here?”
    “For one thing, I’ve got to take care of Midori, and she can’t leave. I don’t like the idea of her traveling under her own passport, and I doubt she’s got false papers handy.”
    He nodded as though he understood, then looked at me closely. “Is something going on between you two?”
    I didn’t answer.
    “I knew it,” he said, blushing.
    “I should have known I couldn’t put one over on you.”
    He shook his head. “Is this why you don’t want to let her help me with the lattice?”
    “Am I that transparent?”
    “Not usually.”
    “All right, I’ll ask her,” I said, not seeing an alternative.
    “I could use her help.”
    “I know. Don’t worry. I didn’t really expect you to be able to decrypt something as complex as this without help.”
    For a half second his mouth started to drop in indignation. Then he saw my smile.
    “Had you there,” I told him.

CHAPTER 17
    H arry rented me a van from a place in Roppongi, using alias ID just in case, while I waited at his apartment to keep my exposure down. His apartment was a strange place, crammed with arcane electronic equipment, but nothing to make his life more comfortable. He’d told me a few years earlier he’d read how the police had caught some indoor marijuana farmers by monitoring their electric bills—seems that hydroponic equipment sucks a lot more electricity than average—which made Harry paranoid his electronic signature might lead the police to him. So he didn’t use any electrical appliances that weren’t absolutely necessary—a category that, in Harry’s world, didn’t include a refrigerator, heat, or air conditioning.
    When he came back, we loaded the equipment into the back of the van. It was sophisticated stuff. The laser read the vibrations on windows caused by conversation inside, then fed the resulting data into a computer, which would break down the patterns into words. And the infrared could read minutely different temperatures on glass—the kind caused by body heat in an otherwise cool room.
    When we were done, I parked the van and made my way back to Shibuya, of course conducting a solid SDR en route.
    I got to the hotel at a little past one o’clock. I had picked up some sandwiches at a stand I found on one of the nameless streets snaking off Dogenzaka, and Midori and I ate them sitting on the floor while I filled her in on what was going on. I gave her Harry’s address and told her to put her things together and meet me there in two hours, and to wear the scarf and sunglasses I’d brought her when she left.
    When I arrived at Harry’s, he was already running Kawamura’s disk. A half hour later, the buzzer rang; Harry walked over to the intercom, pressed a button, and said
“Hai.”
    “Watashi desu,”
came the response. It’s me. I nodded, getting up to check the window, and Harry pressed the button to open the front entrance. Then he walked over to his