A Lonely Resurrection

dangerous. We have a dossier on you.”
    The one Holtzer would have put together. Right.
    “The man you were following. Tell me about that.”
    He nodded. “His name is Haruyoshi Fukasawa. He’s your only known associate. We were following him to get to you.”
    “That’s not enough.”
    He gave me a cold stare, looking like he was prepared to tough things out. “That’s all I know.”
    His partner groaned and started to pull himself up onto his knees. Kanezaki glanced at him, and I knew what he was thinking: If his partner recovered, I would have a hard time controlling the two of them.
    “You’re not telling me what you know, Kanezaki,” I said. “Let me show you something.”
    I took a step over to his partner, who was now facing us on all fours, grunting something unintelligible. I braced a knee against his back, took hold of his chin with one hand and the side of his head with the other, and gave a sudden, decisive twist. His neck snapped with a loud crack and he flopped to the ground.
    I let go of his head and stepped back to Kanezaki. His eyes were bulging, shifting from me to the corpse and back again. “Oh my fucking God!” he spluttered. “Oh my God!”
    “First time you’ve seen something like that?” I asked, my tone deliberately casual. “It gets easier as you go along. Of course, in your case, the next time you see it, it’s going to be happening to you.”
    His face was white and getting whiter, and I wondered for a moment if there was some danger he might faint. I needed to help him focus.
    “Kanezaki. You were telling me about Haruyoshi Fukasawa. About how you knew he’s an associate of mine. Keep going, please.”
    He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “We knew. . . we knew he was connected to you because we intercepted a letter.”
    “A letter?”
    His eyes opened. “From him to Midori Kawamura, in New York. Mentioning you.”
    Goddamn it,
I thought, at the mention of her name. I just couldn’t get clear of these people. They were like cancer. You think you’ve cut it out, it always comes back.
    And spreads, to the people around you.
    “Keep going,” I said, scowling.
    “Jesus Christ, I’m telling you that’s all I know!”
    If he panicked completely, I wouldn’t get anything useful. The trick was to keep him scared, but not so scared that he began to make things up just to please me.
    “All right,” I told him. “That’s all you know about how. But you still haven’t told me about why. Why you were trying to find me.”
    “Look, you know I can’t talk about. . .”
    I seized his throat hard. His eyes bulged. He snaked one arm between mine and tried to lever my grip open. It looked like something he might have picked up in one of the Agency’s weekend personal security courses. Kudos to him for remembering it under pressure. Too bad it didn’t work.
    “Kanezaki,” I said, loosening the grip enough so he could breath, “in one minute you will either go on living or someone will find you next to your friend there. Which it is depends entirely on what you say to me in that minute. Now start talking.”
    I felt him swallow beneath the pressure from my hand.
    “All right, all right,” he said. He was talking fast now. “For ten years the USG has been pressuring Japan to reform its banks and get its finances in order. For ten years things have only gotten worse. The economy is beginning to collapse now. If the collapse continues, Japan will be the first domino to fall. Southeast Asia, Europe, and America will be next. The country has to reform. But the vested interests are so deeply entrenched that reform is impossible.”
    I looked at him. “You’ve got about forty seconds left. You’re not doing well.”
    “Okay, okay! Tokyo Station has been tasked with an action program of furthering reform and removing impediments to reform. The program is called Crepuscular. We know what you’ve been doing freelance. I think. . . I think what my superiors want to ask you for is your assistance.”
    “For what purpose?” I asked.
    “For removing impediments.”
    “But you aren’t sure of that?”
    “Look, I’ve been with the Agency for three years. There’s a lot they don’t tell me. But anyone who knows your history and knows about Crepuscular can put two and two together.”
    I looked at him, considering my options. Kill him? His superiors wouldn’t know what had happened. But they’d assume I’d been behind it, of course. And though they