Hard Rain

time sipping an
    espresso and leafing through a magazine someone had left on the table.
    After about an hour Harry showed up.
    "Hey, kid," I said when I saw him. I noticed he was wearing a stylish
    lambskin jacket, and wool trousers instead of the usual jeans. He'd
    gotten a haircut, too. He looked nearly presentable. I realized there
    was no way he was going to listen to me, and almost decided not to
    bother telling him.
    But that wouldn't be right. I would give him the information, and it
    would be his responsibility to use it. Or not.
    He sat down and, before I could open my mouth, said, "Don't worry.
    There's no way I was followed."
    "Doesn't that go without saying?"
    His eyes started to widen, then he saw I was just giving him a hard
    time. He smiled.
    "You look good," I told him, my expression slightly bemused.
    He looked at me, trying to gauge, I knew, whether he was being set up
    for a ribbing of some sort. "You think so?" he asked, his tone
    tentative.
    I nodded. "Looks like you got your hair cut at one of those expensive
    places in Omotesando."
    He reddened. "I did."
    "Don't blush. It was worth whatever you paid for it."
    He blushed harder. "Don't tease me."
    I laughed. "I'm only half teasing."
    "What's going on?"
    "Why does something have to be going on? Maybe I just missed you."
    He gave me an uncharacteristically streetwise look. I had a feeling I
    knew where he'd picked it up. "Yeah, I missed you, too."
    I wasn't looking forward to the turn the conversation would take when I
    brought up Yukiko, and felt no hurry to get there.
    A waitress came by. Harry ordered a coffee and some carrot cake.
    "You hear from any of our new government friends lately?" I asked
    him.
    "Not a peep. You must have scared them."
    "I wouldn't count on that." I took a sip of espresso and looked at
    him. "You still in the same place?"
    "Yeah. But I'm almost ready to move. You know how it is. The
    preparations take a while if you want to do it right."
    We were silent for a moment, and I thought, Here we go.
    "Planning on spending time with Yukiko at the new place?"
    He gave me a wary look. "Maybe."
    "Then I wouldn't bother moving."
    He flinched, his expression characteristically befuddled beneath the
    slick new haircut.
    "Why?" he asked, his tone uncertain.
    "She's mixed up with some bad people, Harry."
    He frowned. "I know."
    It was my turn to be surprised. "You know?"
    He nodded, still frowning. "She told me."
    "Told you what?"
    "Told me the club is run by the jakuza. So what? They all are."
    "She tell you she's involved with one of the owners?"
    "What do you mean, "involved"?"
    '"Involved," as in closely involved."
    He was tapping his foot nervously under the table. I could feel the
    vibration.
    "I don't know what she has to do at the club. It's probably better if
    I don't'
    He was in denial. This was going to be a waste of time.
    All right. I'd modify my approach and try one more time.
    "Okay," I said. "I'm sorry for bringing it up."
    He looked at me for a moment, off balanced. "How do you even know
    about any of this?" he asked. "Are you sneaking around behind my
    back?"
    I didn't care for the question, although I supposed its substance
    wasn't too far off the mark. My answer wasn't exactly a lie. Just
    incomplete.
    "I've developed a ... relationship with the jakuza who I think owns
    Damask Rose. A stone killer named Murakami. He took me there. He and
    Yukiko were obviously well acquainted. I saw them leave together."
    "That's what you wanted to tell me? It sounds like he's her boss. They
    left together, so what?"
    Open your eyes, you idiot, I wanted to say. This woman is a shark.
    She's from a different world, a different species. There's something
    way fucking wrong here.
    Instead: "Harry, my gut tends to be pretty good about these things."
    "Well, I'm not going to trust your gut more than I trust mine."
    The waitress came with his coffee and cake and moved off. Harry didn't
    seem to notice.
    I wanted to tell him more, wanted to offer Naomi's thoughts as
    corroboration. But I could see it wouldn't do much good. Besides,
    Harry didn't need to know where I came across my information.
    I tried one last time. "The club is wired for sound and video. The
    detector you gave me was going ape-shit the whole time I was there. I
    think the place is being used to entrap politicians in embarrassing
    acts."
    "Even if that's true, it doesn't mean Yukiko is involved in it."
    "Haven't you even asked yourself whether it's a coincidence that