Hard Rain

a
    medium-class pervert might ask for in one of Tokyo's 'image clubs,"
    where customers can be serviced by girls dressed as students, nurses,
    or any other profession whose uniform might provoke a fetish, and I
    wondered what the full range of this woman's household duties might
    actually be.
    "May I help you?" she asked, looking first at Tatsu, then at me.
    "I am Keisatsucho Department Head Ishikura Tatsuhiko," Tatsu said,
    producing his ID, 'here to speak with Tanaka-san. Would you get him
    for me?"
    "Is Tanaka expecting you?" she asked.
    "I don't believe so," Tatsu said, 'but I am certain he will be happy to
    see me."
    "Just a moment, please." She closed the door and we waited.
    A minute later the door opened again, this time by a man. I recognized
    him instantly: the guy I had noticed at Damask Rose, with the
    chemically and surgically maintained superficially youthful
    appearance.
    "I am Tanaka," the man said. "How may I be of assistance?"
    Tatsu displayed his ID again. "I would like to ask you a few
    questions. For the moment, my interest in you is peripheral and
    unofficial. Your cooperation, or lack of it, will determine whether my
    interest changes."
    Tanaka's expression was impassive, but the tension in his body and
    angle of his head told me that Tatsu had his full attention. Despite
    all the lawyers I had no doubt were in his employ, despite likely
    entourages of sycophants and underlings, this was a man who was afraid
    of real trouble, the kind of real trouble he would have just seen when
    he looked in Tatsu's eyes.
    "Yes, please, come in," he told us. We took off our shoes and followed
    him through a circular entranceway with a floor of checkerboard
    black-and-white marble tiles. At the rear was a winding stairwell; to
    the sides were reproductions of some sort of Greek statues. We entered
    a mahogany-paneled room with four sides of floor-to-ceiling bookcases.
    Like the cars out front, the books looked as though they were
    frequently dusted and never read.
    Tatsu and I sat on a burgundy pincushion leather couch. Tanaka sat
    across from us in a matching armchair. He asked us if he could offer
    us something to eat or drink. We declined.
    "I didn't get your associate's name," Tanaka said, looking at me.
    "His presence here, like mine, is unofficial for now," Tatsu said. "I
    hope we can keep it that way."
    "Of course," Tanaka said, in his nervous eagerness overlooking the fact
    that Tatsu had ignored his question. "Of course. Now, please tell me
    whatever it is you need."
    "Someone is attempting to implicate you in a U.S. program that directs
    funds to certain Japanese politicians," Tatsu said. "Although I
    believe you are involved in this program, I don't believe you are
    responsible for it. But I need you to convince me that I am correct in
    this belief."
    The color drained from behind Tanaka's tan. "I think ... it would be
    best for me to consult with my legal counsel."
    I looked at him, imagining how I would kill him so he could see it in
    my eyes. "That would be uncooperative," I said.
    Tanaka looked at me, then at Tatsu. "The money isn't even mine. It
    doesn't come from me."
    Tatsu said, "Good. Tell me more."
    Tanaka licked his lips. "This conversation will remain unofficial?" he
    asked. "If someone finds out, it would be very bad for me."
    "As long as you cooperate," Tatsu said, 'you have nothing to fear."
    Tanaka looked at me for confirmation. I gave him a smile that said I
    was secretly hoping he would be uncooperative, so I could go to work on
    him.
    Tanaka swallowed. "All right. Six months ago I was told to contact
    someone who works in the U.S. embassy. A man named Biddle. I was told
    that Biddle represented certain parties who hoped to secure a source of
    campaign funding for reformist politicians."
    "Who told you to do this?" Tatsu asked.
    Tanaka glanced at Tatsu, then down. "The same person who provides the
    money for this thing."
    Tatsu looked at him. "Please be more specific'
    "Yamaoto," Tanaka whispered. Then: "Please, I'm cooperating. This
    conversation must remain unofficial."
    Tatsu nodded. "Keep going," he said.
    "I met with Biddle and told him, as I was instructed, that I believed
    Japan needed radical political reform and that I wanted to help in any
    way I could. Since that time, I have provided Biddle with some one
    hundred million yen for distribution to politicians."
    "These people are being set up," Tatsu said. "I want to know how."
    Tanaka looked at him. "I was only following