A Clean Kill in Tokyo

multiple parties seeking its return—not just Yamaoto, but also the Agency, the
Keisatsucho
. Maybe more. Even if we were to give it back to one of them, it wouldn’t solve our problems with the others.”
    “I see your point,” Harry said.
    “But I like your dynamite analogy. How do you render dynamite safe?”
    “You detonate it somewhere safe,” Midori said, still looking at Harry.
    “Exactly,” I said.
    “Bulfinch,” Midori said. “Bulfinch publishes it, and that’s what makes it safe. And it’s what my father wanted.”
    “Do we give it to him without even knowing for sure what’s on it?” Harry asked.
    “We know well enough,” I said. “Based on what Bulfinch told us, corroborated by Holtzer. I don’t see an alternative.”
    He frowned. “We don’t even know if he has the resources to decrypt it.”
    I suppressed a smile at the slight hint of resentment I detected: someone was going to take away his toy, maybe solve the techno-puzzle without him.
    “We can assume
Forbes
can access the right resources. We know how much they want what’s on that disk.”
    “I’d still like a better chance at decrypting it first.”
    “So would I. But we don’t know how long that would take. In the meantime we’ve got forces arrayed against us, and we’re not going to be able to go on eluding them for much longer. The sooner Bulfinch publishes the damn thing, the sooner we can breathe easy again.”
    Midori, not taking any chances, said, “I’ll call him.”

CHAPTER 20
    I had told Bulfinch to meet me that afternoon in Akasaka Mitsuke, one of the city’s entertainment districts, second only to Ginza in its profusion of hostess bars. The area is intersected by a myriad of alleyways, all of which offer multiple means of access and escape.
    It was raining and cold as I finished an SDR and exited Akasaka Mitsuke subway station in front of the Belle Vie Department Store. Across the street, bizarrely pink amidst the gray rain and sky, stood the battleship bulk of the Akasaka Tokyu Hotel. I paused to open the black umbrella I was carrying, then turned right onto Sotobori-dori. After another right turn into an alley by the local Citibank, I emerged onto the red crenellated brick of the Esplanade Akasaka-dori.
    I was over an hour early—and decided to grab a quick lunch at the Tenkaichi ramen restaurant on the Esplanade. Tenkaichi—“First Under Heaven”—is a chain, but the one on the Esplanade has character. The proprietors accept foreign currency, and the notes and coins of dozens of countries are taped to the establishment’s brown wooden walls. They also play a continuous stream of jazz compilations, occasionally interspersed by some soft American pop. And the cushioned stools, some discretely set off in corners, offer a good view of the street.
    I ordered the
chukadon
—Chinese vegetables over rice—and ate while I watched the street. Two
sarariiman,
taking a late lunch break, also ate alone and in silence.
    I had instructed Bulfinch that, at two o’clock, he should start circling the block counterclockwise at 19-3 Akasaka Mitsuke 3-
chome.
There are more than a dozen alleys accessing that particular block, each with multiple tributaries, so he wouldn’t know where I’d be waiting until I made my presence known. It didn’t matter if he came early—he didn’t know where I’d be. He’d just have to keep circling the block in the rain.
    I finished at 1:50, paid the check, and left. Keeping the canopy of the umbrella low over my head, I crossed the Esplanade to Misuji-dori, then cut into an alley opposite the Buon Appetito restaurant on the 19-3 block and waited under the overhang of some rusting corrugated roofing. I waited, silent drops of water falling before me from the rusted roof onto the tops of dilapidated plastic refuse containers.
    After about ten minutes, I heard footsteps on the wet brick to my left, and turned to see Bulfinch. He was wearing an olive trench coat and hunkering down under a large black umbrella. From where I was standing, he couldn’t see me, and I waited until he had passed before speaking.
    “Over here,” I said quietly.
    “Shit!” he said, turning to face me. “Don’t do that. You scared me.”
    “You’re alone?”
    “Of course. You brought the disk?”
    I stepped out from under the roofing and observed the alley in both directions. All clear. “It’s nearby. Tell me what you plan to do with it.”
    “You know what I plan to do. I’m a