Rainfall

jaw. I saw the aide standing behind the guards, the attaché case set at his feet. “You, over there! Open up that case!” He looked at me uncomprehendingly. “Yes, you! Open up that attaché case right now!”

    He looked bewildered. “I can’t. It’s locked.”

    “Give him the key,” I growled to Holtzer.

    He laughed. “Like hell.”

    Six people had the drop on me. I yanked Holtzer to the left so they would have to re-aim, giving myself a split second to pull the gun away from his head and crack him in the temple with the butt. He sank to his knees, stunned, and I went down with him, staying close to his body for what cover it could provide. I patted his left pants pocket, heard a jingling. Reached inside and pulled out a set of keys.

    “Bring the case over here!” I yelled at the aide. “Bring it or he’s dead!”

    The aide hesitated for a second, then picked up the case and carried it over. He set it down in front of us.

    I tossed him the keys. “Now open it.”

    “Don’t listen to him!” Holtzer yelled, struggling to his feet. “Don’t open it!”

    “Open it!” I shouted again. “Or I’ll blow him away!”

    “I order you not to open that case!” Holtzer screamed. “It’s the U.S. diplomatic pouch!” The aide was frozen, his face uncertain. “Goddamnit, listen to me! He’s bluffing!”

    “Shut up!” I yelled, digging the barrel of the gun in under his chin. “Listen. You think he’s willing to take a chance on dying over the diplomatic pouch? What could be in there that’s so important? Open it!”

    “Shoot him!” Holtzer screamed suddenly at the guards. “Shoot him!”

    “Open that case or you’ll be wearing his fucking brains!”

    The aide’s eyes went from the case to Holtzer, then back. It seemed that everyone was frozen.

    It happened suddenly. The aide dropped to his knees, fumbling with the key. Holtzer started to protest, and I cracked him in the head with the pistol again. He sagged against me.

    The case popped open.

    Inside, clearly visible between two protective layers of foam, was Kawamura’s disk.

    A long second passed, then I heard a familiar voice from behind me.

    “Arrest this man.”

    I turned and saw Tatsu walking toward me, three Japanese cops behind him.

    The cops converged on me, one of them unclipping a set of handcuffs from his equipment belt.

    One of the Marine guards started to protest.

    “We are outside the base,” Tatsu explained in fluent English. “You have no jurisdiction. This is a Japanese domestic matter.”

    My arms were bent behind my back, and I felt the handcuffs clicking into place. Tatstu held my eyes long enough for me to see the sadness in his, then turned and walked away.

24

    THEY PUT ME in a squad car and drove me to Keisatsucho headquarters. I was photographed, fingerprinted, and put in a concrete cell. No one mentioned what I was being charged with, or offered to allow me to contact a lawyer. What the hell, I don’t know too many lawyers anyway.

    The cell wasn’t bad. There was no window, and I kept time by counting the meals they brought me. Three times a day a taciturn guard dropped off a tray with rice and vinegared fish, some vegetables, and picked up the tray from the previous meal. The food was okay. After every third meal I was allowed to shower.

    I was waiting for my sixteenth meal, trying not to worry about Midori, when two guards came for me and told me to follow them. They took me to a small room with a table and two chairs. A naked bulb hung over the table from the ceiling.
Looks like it’s time for your interrogation
, I thought.

    I stood with my back against the wall. After a few minutes the door opened and Tatsu walked in, alone. His face was serious, but after five days of solitary, it felt good to see someone I knew.

    “Konnichi wa,”
I said.

    He nodded. “Hello, Rain-san,” he said in Japanese. “It’s good to see you. I’m tired. Let’s sit.”

    We sat down with the table between us. He was silent for a long time, and I waited for him to speak. I didn’t find his reticence encouraging.

    “I hope you will forgive your recent incarceration, which I know must have been unexpected.”

    “I did think a pat on the back would have been more in order after I dove through that car window.”

    I saw the trademark sad smile, and somehow it made me feel good. “Appearances had to be maintained until I could straighten things out,” he said.

    “It took you