A Clean Kill in Tokyo

door, opened it, and peered out. Better to see who’s coming before they get to your position, while you still have time to react.
    A minute later he opened the door wide and motioned Midori to come inside.
    I said to her in Japanese, “This is Harry, the friend I told you about. He’s a little shy around people because he spends all his time with computers. Just be nice to him and he’ll open up after a while.”
    “Hajimemashite,”
Midori said, turning to Harry and bowing. Nice to meet you.
    “It’s nice to meet you,” Harry responded in Japanese. He was blinking rapidly, and I could see he was nervous. “Please don’t listen to my friend. The government used him to test experimental drugs during the war, and it’s led to premature senility.”
    Harry?
I thought, impressed with his sudden gumption.
    Midori made a face of perfect innocence and said, “It was caused by drugs?”
    She had a light touch with him, I was glad to see. Harry looked at me with a radiant smile, feeling he’d finally gotten the better of me, and maybe had found an ally, too.
    “Okay, I can see you’re both going to get along,” I said, cutting them off before Harry used his newfound courage to escalate to who knows what. “We don’t have much time. This is the plan.” I explained to Midori what I was going to do.
    “I don’t like it,” she said, when I was done. “They could see you. It could be dangerous.”
    “No one’s going to see me.”
    “You should give Harry and me some time with the musical code.”
    “I’ve already been over this with Harry. You both do your jobs, I’ll do mine. It’s more efficient. I’ll be fine.”
    I drove the van to the
Conviction
facility in Shibakoen, just south of the government district in Kasumigaseki.
Conviction
occupied part of the second floor of a building on Hibiya-dori, across from Shiba Park. I would use the laser to pick up the locus of conversation in their offices, and then, based on Harry’s analysis of what we picked up, I’d be able to guess which room or rooms would be the best candidates for a transmitter. The same equipment would tell me when the offices had emptied out, probably well after dark, and that’s when I’d go in to place the bug. The video might help us identify anyone else who was involved with the Agency and
Conviction,
and give us some clues about the nature of the connection between the two.
    I parked across the street from the building. The spot was in a no-parking zone, but it was a good enough location to risk a ticket from a bored meter maid.
    I had just finished setting up the equipment and targeting it at the appropriate windows when I heard a tap on the van’s passenger-side window. I looked up and saw a uniformed cop. He was rapping the glass with his nightstick.
    Oh, shit.
I made a conciliatory gesture, as though I was going to just drive away, but he shook his head and said,
“Dette yo.”
Get out.
    The equipment was pointing out the back driver-side window, and wasn’t visible from the cop’s vantage point. I would have to take a chance. I slid across to the passenger side and opened the door, then stepped down onto the curb.
    There were three men waiting on the blind side of the van, where I couldn’t see them until I was outside. They were armed with pistols and wore sunglasses and bulky coats—light disguise to change the shape of the face and the build. I took this to mean they would shoot me if I resisted, counting on the disguises to confuse potential witnesses. They all had the classic
kendoka
’s ears. I recognized the one standing closest to me from outside Midori’s apartment—the guy with the flat nose who had gone in after I had ambushed Midori’s would-be abductors. One of them gruffly thanked the cop, who turned and walked away.
    They motioned me across the street, and there wasn’t much I could do except comply. At least this solved the problem of how I was going to get into the building. I had an earpiece in my pocket, as well as one of Harry’s custom adhesive-backed microtransmitters. If I saw the chance, I’d put the transmitter in place.
    They brought me in the front entrance, their hands staying steady in their coat pockets. We took the stairs to the second floor, the three of them crowding me on the way up, taking away any room to maneuver. When we got to the landing at the top of the stairs, Flatnose shoved me back against the wall, pushing his gun against my neck. One of his partners patted