A Lonely Resurrection

gap. After all, to be a kingpin is not so hard. What does it take? Some political acumen. A capacity for rationalization. And greed. Not a particularly rare profile.”
    He took a sip of his tea. “Besides, this man is no ordinary foot soldier. He is ruthless, he is capable, he is feared. An unusual individual, whose loss would not be a trivial blow to his masters.”
    “All right,” I said. “What are you offering me? Given that I’m under no obligation.”
    “I have no money to offer you. Even if I did, I doubt I could match what Yamaoto and the Agency were paying you previously.”
    He might have been trying to get a rise out of me with that. I ignored it.
    “I’m sorry to be so blunt, old friend, but you’re asking me to take a hell of a risk. Just spending time in Tokyo entails risks for me. You know that.”
    He looked at me. When he spoke, his tone was measured, confident. “It would not be like you to assume your risk from Yamaoto and the CIA is confined only to Tokyo,” he said.
    I wasn’t sure where he was going with that. “It’s where the risk is most pronounced,” I said.
    “I’ve told you, Yamaoto has felt compelled to live a much more heavily defended existence since the last time you saw him. He has curtailed his political appearances, he no longer trains at the Kodokan, he travels only surrounded by bodyguards. My understanding is that he does not enjoy these new restrictions. My understanding, in fact, is that he resents them. Most of all, he resents the cause of them.”
    “You don’t have to tell me Yamaoto has a motive,” I said. “I know what he’d like to do to me. And it’s not just business, either. He’s the kind of man who would feel humiliated, enraged by how I helped steal that disk from him. He’s not going to forget it.”
    “Yes? And none of this keeps you awake at night?”
    “If I let that kind of shit keep me awake at night, I’d have bags under my eyes the size of Sado Island. Besides, he can have all the motive he wants. I’m not going to give him the opportunity.”
    He nodded. “I’m certain you wouldn’t. At least not deliberately. But, as I have mentioned, I am not the only one with access to Juki Net.”
    I looked at him, wondering whether there was a threat hidden in there. Tatsu was always subtle.
    “What are you saying, Tatsu?”
    “Only that if I could find you, Yamaoto will be able to, also. And he is not alone in his efforts. The CIA, as you know, is also eager to make your reacquaintance.”
    He took a sip of his tea. “Putting myself in your shoes, I see two possible courses. One is that you stay in Japan, but not in Tokyo, and try to return to your old ways. This is perhaps the easier course, but the less safe one.”
    He sipped again. “Two is that you leave the country and start over somewhere. This is the harder course, but would perhaps afford you greater security. The problem, in either case, is that you will have left things unfinished with certain parties who wish you ill, parties with global reach and long memories, and that you will have no allies against them.”
    “I don’t need allies,” I said, but the rejoinder sounded weak even to me.
    “If you plan to leave Japan, we can part as friends,” he said. “But if I cannot count on your help today, it will be difficult for me to help you tomorrow, when you may need that help.”
    That was about as direct as Tatsu ever got. I thought about it, wondering what to do. Drop everything and disappear for Brazil, even though my preparations weren’t complete? Maybe. But I hated the thought of leaving a loose end, something someone could grab onto and use to track me. Because, despite his obvious self-interest in emphasizing the dangers of Yamaoto and the CIA, Tatsu’s assessment was not so far off from my own.
    The other possibility would be to do this last job and keep him off my back, keep him off balance while I finished my preparations. What he was offering me in return wasn’t trivial, either. Tatsu had access to people and places even Harry couldn’t hack. No matter what I did next, he would be a damn useful contact.
    I thought it through for another minute. Then I said, “Something tells me you’re carrying an envelope.”
    He nodded.
    “Give it to me,” I said.

CHAPTER 8
    I took the envelope to my apartment and perused it there. I sat at my desk and spread out the papers. I highlighted passages. I scribbled thoughts in the margins. Parts I read in order.