Hard Rain

contractor. Six months ago he was given training in
    surveillance and countersurveillance and various other clandestine
    arts. Since then the Agency has contacted him three times. On each
    occasion, he was given a time and place where a meeting was to occur,
    and instructed to photograph the meeting as it progressed."
    "How did he know who he was shooting?"
    "He was given a photograph of an ethnic Japanese who would always be a
    participant."
    "Me."
    Yes."
    I shook my head in wonder and thought, You ought to just have 'fall
    guy' printed on your business cards.
    "And Gretz's handler .. ." Kanezaki said.
    "The Station Chief," Tatsu answered. "James Biddle."
    "The same guy who wanted the receipts," I said.
    "Yes," Tatsu answered.
    "I imagine the contractor wasn't able to shed any light on why," I
    said.
    Tatsu shook his head. "Gretz is only a flunky, with some skill behind
    the lens. He doesn't know anything. His biggest concern was that no
    one should find out that we had picked him up, lest he lose his
    lucrative side work or face deportation."
    "You couldn't get anything more out of him?" Kanezaki asked.
    Tatsu shrugged. "My men did not ask nicely. I don't believe there was
    anything more to be gotten."
    "What does he do with the photos after he's taken them?" Kanezaki
    asked.
    "He delivers the prints to Biddle," Tatsu said.
    Kanezaki was drumming his fingers on the table. "What's he going to do
    with those photos? Why would he do this to me?"
    "I may have a way of finding out," Tatsu said.
    "What's that?"
    Tatsu shook his head. "Not yet. Let me make some discreet inquiries.
    I will contact you soon."
    Kanezaki's eyes narrowed slightly. "Why would you help me?" he
    asked.
    Tatsu looked at him. "I have my own reasons for wishing to avoid a
    scandal," he said. "Among them, my desire that the reformers you have
    been trying to aid not be harmed by all this."
    Kanezaki's expression loosened. He was scared. He wanted to believe
    that he had a friend. "Okay," he said.
    Kanezaki stood to go. He reached into his jacket pocket, took out a
    card, and handed it to Tatsu. "Please, contact me as soon as you know
    more," he said.
    Tatsu stood, too. He gave him a card in return. "I will."
    Kanezaki said, "Thank you."
    Tatsu bowed low and said, "Kochira koso." The same here.
    Kanezaki nodded to me and walked away.
    I waited a minute to allow Kanezaki to get clear, then said, "Let's
    go."
    Tatsu understood. When I was a teenager, I once won a fight at a
    party. The guy I'd beaten left, while I enjoyed the feeling of being a
    hero. Trouble was, the guy returned a half-hour later, only this time
    with two friends. The three of them beat the crap out of me. The
    lesson was worth it. It taught me that, when the meeting is done, you
    leave, unless you want to take a chance on someone backing up on you.
    We walked toward Inokashira-dori, the still darkness of Yoyogi Park to
    our right.
    "How did it go today?" I asked as we walked. "With your man's wife.
    His widow."
    Several seconds went by before he answered. "Fujimori-san," he said,
    and I wasn't sure whether he was talking about his fallen comrade or
    the wife. "I am fortunate to have had only three such conversations in
    my time with the Keisatsucho."
    We continued to walk in silence. Then I asked, "Any luck tracking
    Murakami today?"
    He shook his head. "No."
    "The guy you interrogated?"
    "Nothing yet."
    "Why did you want to see me tonight?"
    "I wanted all my resources accessible, in case there was a hot lead on
    Murakami."
    "It's personal now?" I asked.
    "It's personal'
    We walked in silence. "I'll tell you one thing," I said. "Just when I
    think I'm getting jaded, the CIA does something to really surprise me,
    like hiring a photographer to take pictures of its own case officers in
    case it needs to burn them. It's refreshing."
    "There is no photographer," Tatsu said.
    I stopped and looked at him. "What?"
    He shrugged. "I made him up."
    I shook my head and blinked. "There's no Gretz?"
    "There is a Gretz, in case Kanezaki thinks to check. A small-time dope
    dealer I once caught and let go. I had a feeling he might be useful
    later."
    I didn't know what to say. "Tell me what I'm missing, Tatsu."
    "Not that much, really. I simply offered Kanezaki corroboration that
    his fears are not mere paranoia, while positioning myself as a
    friend."
    "Why?"
    "I needed him to be thoroughly convinced that he is indeed being set
    up. We don't yet have sufficient information to really know