Hard Rain

not
    going to use a bomb because bystanders would get blown up, too. And
    short of those two options, putting this guy down and getting away
    clean is too much of a long shot."
    I realized that I'd allowed myself to start arguing with him on
    practical grounds. I should have just told him no and shut my mouth.
    Another long pause. Then he said, "What does he make of you, do you
    think?"
    I took a deep breath of the moist air and let it out. "I don't know.
    On the one hand, he's seen what I can do. On the other hand, I don't
    send out danger vibes the way he does. He can't control that sort of
    thing, so it wouldn't occur to him that someone else could."
    "He underestimates you, then."
    "Maybe. But not by much. People like Murakami don't underestimate."
    "You've proven that you can get close to him. I could get you a
    gun."
    "I told you, he's always with at least two bodyguards."
    The second I said it I wished I hadn't. Now we were negotiating. This
    was stupid.
    "Line them up right," he said. "Take out all three."
    "Tatsu, you don't understand this guy's instincts. He doesn't let
    anyone line up anything. When we got out of the Benz in front of his
    club, I saw him scoping rooftops for snipers. He knew where to look,
    too. He'd feel me lining him up from a mile away. Just like I'd feel
    him. Forget it."
    He frowned. "How can I convince you?"
    "You can't. Look, this was a risky proposition to begin with, but I
    was willing to undertake the risk in return for what you can do for me.
    I've learned that the risk is now greater than I had originally
    thought. The reward is the same. So the equation has changed. It's
    no more complicated than that."
    Neither of us said anything for a long time. Finally, he sighed and
    said, "What will you do, retire?"
    "Maybe."
    "You can't retire."
    I paused. When I spoke, my voice was quiet, not much more than a
    whisper. "I hope you're not saying that you might interfere."
    He didn't flinch. "There would be no need for me to interfere," he
    said. "You don't have retirement in you. I wish you could recognize
    that. What will you do, find an island somewhere, spend time on the
    beach catching up on all the books you've been missing? Join a go
    club? Anesthetize yourself with whiskey when your restless memories
    refuse to permit sleep?"
    But for the jellifying effects of the heat, I might have gotten upset
    at that.
    "Maybe therapy," he went on. "Yes, therapy is popular these days. It
    could help you come to terms with all the lives you have taken. Perhaps
    even with the one you have decided to waste."
    I looked at him. "You're trying to goad me, Tatsu," I said softly.
    "You need goading."
    "Not from you."
    He frowned. "You say you might retire. I understand that. But what
    I'm doing is important and right. This is our country."
    I snorted. "It's not "our" country. I'm just a visitor."
    "Who told you that?"
    "Everyone who mattered."
    "They would be glad to know that you listened."
    "Enough. I owed you. I paid. I'm done."
    I got up and rinsed with cold water at one of the spigots. He did the
    same. We changed and walked down the stairs.
    Just outside the entranceway, he turned to me. "Rain-san," he said.
    "Will I see you again?"
    I looked at him. "Are you a threat to me?" I asked.
    "Not if you are really going to retire, no."
    "Then we might see each other. But not for a while."
    "Then we needn't say sayonara."
    "We needn't say it."
    He smiled his sad smile. "I have a request."
    I smiled back. "With you, Tatsu, it would be a little dangerous to
    agree to anything up front."
    He nodded, accepting the point. "Ask yourself what you hope to get out
    of retirement. And whether retirement will achieve it."
    I said, "That I can do."
    "Thank you."
    He extended his hand and I shook it.
    "De wa," I said, by way of goodbye. Well, then.
    He nodded again. lKi o tsukete," he said, a farewell that can be
    intended as an innocuous Take care or as a more literal Be careful.
    The ambiguity felt deliberate.
    Thirteen.
    I waited until after seven that evening, when I knew Yukiko would have
    left for the club, then called Harry. I was going to tell him what he
    needed to hear. I owed him that much. What he decided to do with the
    information would then be his problem, not mine.
    We set up a meeting at a coffee shop in Nippori. I told him to take
    his time getting there. He understood the translation: With the Agency
    snooping around, do a damn thorough SDR.
    I got there early per my usual practice and passed the