Hard Rain

area beyond.
    A waiter appeared and asked us in a hushed tone whether it would be
    just the two of us. Naomi told him it would, and he escorted us
    inside.
    The walls were brown cement, the ceiling black. There were a few
    spotlights, but most of the illumination came from candles on tables
    and in the corners of the lacquered cement floor. In alcoves here and
    there were statues depicting scenes from the Kama Sutra. Around us
    were a half-dozen small groups of people, all sitting on floor cushions
    or low chairs. The room hummed with murmured conversation and quiet
    laughter. Some sort of light, Arabic-sounding techno music issued
    softly from invisible speakers.
    There were two additional rooms at the back, I knew, both partially
    concealed by heavy purple curtains. I asked the waiter whether either
    was available and he gestured to the one on the right. I looked at
    Naomi and she nodded.
    We moved past the curtains into a room that was more like a small cave
    or opium den. The ceiling was low and candles played flickering shadows
    on the walls. We sat on floor cushions in the corner, at ninety
    degrees to each other. The waiter handed us a menu and departed
    without a word.
    "You hungry?" I asked.
    "Yes."
    "Me, too." I rubbed my wet shoulders. "And cold."
    The waiter returned. We ordered hot tea, their signature Ayu chips,
    and spring rolls. Naomi chose a twelve-year-old Highland Park and I
    followed suit.
    "How do you know about this place really?" Naomi asked when the waiter
    had departed.
    "I told you, it's been around forever. Ten years, maybe more."
    "So you live in Tokyo."
    I paused. Then: "I did. Until recently."
    "What brings you back?"
    "I have a friend. He's in some kind of trouble with people from your
    club and doesn't even know it."
    "What kind of trouble?"
    "That's what I'm trying to find out."
    "Why did you tell me that bullshit about being an accountant?"
    I shrugged. "I was looking for information. I didn't see the need to
    tell you very much."
    We were quiet for a few minutes. The waiter came by with the food and
    drinks. I went for the tea first. It warmed me considerably. The
    Highland Park was even better.
    "I needed that," I said, leaning back against the wall, heat radiating
    from my gut.
    She picked up a spring roll. "Have you really been to Brazil?" she
    asked.
    "Yes." It was a lie, but perhaps the moral equivalent of the truth. I
    couldn't very well tell her that I was learning all I could about the
    country in preparation for a first and permanent trip there.
    She took a bite of the spring roll and chewed it, her head cocked
    slightly to the side as though in consideration of something. "Tonight,
    when I saw who you were with, I was thinking that maybe you learned a
    few lines of Portuguese just to get me to open up. That I was in some
    kind of trouble."
    "No."
    "So you weren't trying to meet me in particular."
    "You were dancing when I came in that night, so I asked about you. It
    was just a coincidence."
    "If you're not an American accountant, who are you?"
    "I'm someone who ... performs services for people from time to time.
    Those services put me in touch with a lot of different players in the
    society. Cops and jakuza. Politicians. Sometimes people on the
    fringe."
    "You have that on your business card?"
    I smiled. "I tried it. The print was too small to read."
    "You're what, a private detective?"
    "In a way."
    She looked at me. "Who are you working for now?"
    "I told you, right now I'm just trying to help a friend."
    "Forgive me, but that sounds like bullshit."
    I nodded. "I can see where it would."
    "You looked pretty comfortable with Murakami tonight."
    "Did that bother you?"
    "He scares me."
    "He should."
    She picked up her Highland Park and leaned back against the wall. "I've
    heard some bad stories about him."
    "They're probably true."
    "Everyone's afraid of him. Except for Yukiko."
    "Why do you think that is?"
    "I don't know. She has some kind of power over him. No one else
    does."
    "you don't like her."
    She glanced at me, then away. "She can be as scary as he is."
    You said she's comfortable doing things that you're not."
    "Yes."
    "Something to do with those listening devices?"
    She upended her drink and finished it. Then she said, "I don't know
    for certain that there are listening devices, but I think there are. We
    get a lot of prominent customers -politicians, bureaucrats,
    businessmen. The people who own the club encourage the girls to talk
    to them, to elicit