Hard Rain

the sun comes up."
    She forced a smile. "After that."
    I nodded, thinking. "I'm not sure."
    There was a pause.
    "You should work with your friend," she said. "It's the only thing for
    you."
    "Funny, he's always saying that, too. Good thing I don't believe in
    conspiracies."
    The smile reappeared, a little less forced this time. "His motives are
    probably selfish. Mine aren't."
    I looked at her. "I'm not sure whether I can trust your motives, after
    what you just said to me."
    She looked down. "I'm sorry."
    "No, it's okay. You were being honest. Although I don't think anyone
    has ever been honest with me in quite that way. At least not at that
    moment."
    Another smile. It was sad, but at least it looked genuine. "I'm being
    honest now."
    I needed to get it over with. I moved in close, close enough to smell
    her hair and feel the warmth of her skin. I paused there for a moment,
    my eyes closed. Took a deep breath. Slowly let it out.
    I used English to avoid the unambiguous finality of sayonara. "Goodbye,
    Midori," I said.
    I walked to the door and, habitual as always, checked through the
    peephole. The corridor was empty. I moved into it without looking
    back.
    The hallway was hard. The elevator was a little easier. By the time I
    got-to the street I knew the worst was over.
    A voice spoke up inside me, quiet but insistent. So is the best, it
    said.
    Twenty-One.
    I made my way through the backstreets of Shinjuku, heading east,
    deciding where I wanted to stay for the night and what I would do when
    I awoke the following morning. I tried not to think about anything
    else.
    It was late, but there were small clusters of people about, moving like
    dim constellations in the surrounding emptiness of space: vagrants and
    beggars; hustlers and pimps; the disheartened, the disenfranchised, the
    dispossessed.
    I hurt, and I couldn't think of a way to make the pain go away.
    My pager buzzed.
    Of course I thought, Midori.
    But I knew it wasn't her. She didn't have the number. Even if she
    did, she wasn't going to use it.
    I looked at the display, but didn't recognize the caller.
    I found a pay phone and dialed the number. It rang once, then a woman
    answered in English. She said, "Hey."
    It was Naomi.
    "Hey," I said. "I almost forgot I'd given you this number."
    "You don't mind my using it, I hope."
    "Not at all. Just a little surprised." I was surprised. My alertness
    had bumped up a notch.
    There was a pause. Well, things were slow tonight at the club and I
    got off a little early. I wondered if you might want to come by."
    It was hard to imagine a slow night at Damask Rose, but maybe it was
    true. Even so, I would have expected her to want to go someplace first
    a late dinner, a drink. Not just a standard tryst at her apartment. My
    alertness edged up further.
    "Sure," I said. "If you're not too tired."
    "Not at all. Would love to see you."
    That was odd. She'd pronounced 'would' like something halfway to
    'we'd." The blurring was contrary to her usual Portuguese accent. A
    message? A warning?
    I looked at my watch. It was almost one thirty. "I'll be there in
    about an hour."
    "I can't wait."
    I heard her click off.
    Something didn't feel right. I couldn't put my finger on exactly
    what.
    There was the oddity of her having contacted me. And the story about
    having come home early, although I supposed the latter might adequately
    explain the former. Her tone seemed pretty normal. But there was that
    peculiarly pronounced word.
    The question was, what would I do if I knew it was a set up? Not what
    I would do if I suspected, but if I knew.
    I went to another pay phone and called Tatsu. I got his voice mail. I
    tried again. No dice. He must have been on a stakeout or something.
    Well, he does have a day job, I thought. But shit.
    The safe thing, the smart thing, would have been to stay away until I
    could go in with backup. But there might be an opportunity here, and I
    didn't want to let it slip.
    I took a cab to the edge of Azabu Juban. I knew the security layout
    outside Naomi's apartment well, of course, having reconnoitered and
    exploited it myself the night I had waited for her in the rain. The
    building on that perpendicular side street, with the awning and the
    plastic garbage bins, was a perfect spot. If someone were waiting for
    me, he'd wait there. Just like I had waited for her.
    I was making my way to the end of the street that led to the back of
    the building when I heard the buzz of a two-cycle motorbike