Hard Rain

six months ago," I said.
    "Some newly ascendant faction in the USG decided that it wasn't in
    Uncle Sam's interest to further reform in Japan after all."
    "The opposite," he said. He started to put his hands in his trench
    coat pockets.
    "Keep your hands where I can see them," I said sharply.
    He jumped. "Sorry, I'm just a little cold. How can you see anything,
    anyway? It's pitch dark out here."
    "What do you mean, "the opposite"?"
    "Crepuscular was never intended to further reform. It was conceived as
    a way of suborning reformers from the beginning. Whoever ordered its
    termination was a supporter of reform. But certainly not a realist."
    You would be one of the realists, then."
    He straightened slightly. "That's right. Along with some of the
    institutions that make U.S. foreign policy. The ones without blinders
    or the pressure of political constituencies. Look, the politicians
    press Japan to reform because they don't understand what's really going
    on. And what's really going on is that Japan is past reform. Maybe
    ten, even five years ago, it could have been done. But not anymore.
    Things have gone too far here. The politicians in America are always
    talking about "biting the bullet" and "strong medicine," but they don't
    understand that if you try to bite this bullet, it'll go through your
    head. That the patient is so weak, an operation would kill him. We're
    past hope of a cure, it's time to move into more of a pain-management
    approach."
    "It's a moving story, Dr. Kevorkian. But I'm ready to hear the
    end."
    "The end?"
    "Yes. The part that goes, "Here's the combination to my safe.""
    "The combination ... oh no. No, no, no," he said, alarm creeping into
    his voice. "How did he talk you into this? What did he tell you those
    reformers are heroes? For God's sake, they're just like all the other
    politicians in this damn country, they're just as selfish and venal.
    Kanezaki doesn't know what he's doing."
    I shot the baton into his wounded leg again. He screamed and went
    down.
    "Quiet," I said. "Or I'll do the same to your arms."
    He clenched his teeth and rocked on his back, one arm holding his leg,
    the other arm jerking left to right in front of his head in a vain
    attempt to ward off the next attack.
    "I warned you about making me ask you something twice," I said. "Now
    spit it out. Or they won't even be able to use dental records to ID
    you."
    I saw his jaw working in the green glow. He groaned and clutched his
    leg. Finally he said, "Thirty-two twice left, four once right, twelve
    left."
    I took out the cell phone and speed-dialed Kanezaki. "Hello?" I heard
    him say.
    I repeated the number.
    "Hold on." A few seconds passed. "I'm in," I heard him say.
    "You find what you were looking for?"
    I heard papers rustling. "Big time," he said.
    I clicked off.
    "There's a marker about a meter to your right," I told him. "You can
    use it to stand."
    He pulled himself in the right direction and got slowly to his feet,
    using the marker to support himself. He slumped against it, panting,
    his face slicked with sweat.
    "You knew they were going to do Harry," I said. "Didn't you."
    I saw him shake his head. "No."
    "But you suspected."
    "I suspect everything. I'm paid to suspect. That's not the same as
    knowing."
    "Why did you ask me to kill Kanezaki?"
    "I think you know," he said, his breathing getting a little more even.
    "If those receipts were used, someone would have to be blamed for it.
    It would be best if that person weren't in a position to tell his side
    of the story."
    "Is he still in any danger?"
    He chuckled ruefully. "Not if those receipts are no longer in play,
    no."
    "You don't seem too upset."
    He shrugged. "I'm a professional. None of this is personal for me. I
    hope the same goes for you."
    "What happens to Crepuscular?"
    He sighed and looked a little wistful. "Crepuscular? It's gone. It
    was shut down six months ago."
    He was already reciting the official story. No wonder he'd recovered
    his serenity so quickly. He knew he wasn't going to face any personal
    meaning career repercussions.
    I looked at him for a long time. I thought of Harry, of Tatsu, most of
    all of Midori. Finally I said, "I'm going to let you leave here,
    Biddle. The smart thing would be to kill you, but I won't. That means
    you owe me. If you repay that debt by trying to get back into my life,
    I'll find you."
    "I believe you," he said.
    "When we walk out of here tonight, we walk away agreed?"
    "We still need you," he said.