Requiem for an Assassin

reservoirs of patience needed in the face of so many stupid questions. Hearing Tatsu’s quirks live on in Kanezaki, whom I knew Tatsu had mentored, and whom he had perhaps in his mind even adopted as a surrogate after losing his own son, caused me a pang of sadness, and a small smile.
    “How about breakfast?” I asked.
    “An early lunch would be better. I’ve got a few things to do.”
    I instantly disliked the counteroffer. It would give him time to arrange things, if…
    If what? In the last few years, Kanezaki had a half-dozen opportunities to try to set me up. He never did, nor, as far as I could tell, did he have any reason to. I’d dropped in suddenly. He had things to do, like he said.
    Still, I didn’t like it. If I hadn’t needed him so much right then, I might have bailed. Instead, I said, “All right. How about the place we met last time. When it opens.”
    That would be Ben’s café in Takadanobaba, at eleven-thirty. A nice, out-of-the-way, neighborhood kind of place that served fresh bagels, quiche, and excellent coffee. I knew the area well. I’d get there early for countersurveillance. Just in case.
    “I’ll see you there,” he said, and clicked off.
    I took the Yamanote line to Takadanobaba and got to Ben’s a little less than two hours early. I set up just past the edge of the window in a convenience store across and slightly down from the café, my eyes on the street. Japanese convenience stores don’t mind their magazines being used as a lending library, and I took full advantage.
    Nothing set off my radar, and Kanezaki showed right on time. He glanced back through the store window as he went by, doubtless seeing me in the corner but giving no sign of it.
    Shit, I thought. I don’t like getting nailed, even by a probable friendly. I watched to make sure he was alone, then drifted out of the store and caught him as he went into Ben’s.
    “Hey,” I said, coming up behind him.
    He turned without any sign of surprise. “Hey.”
    “You saw me in the convenience store.”
    He shrugged. “Yeah, it was where I would have set up, too. But I didn’t figure you were one for the girlie magazines.”
    “What else do people read when they’re loitering like that?” I said, still feeling a little defensive. “I was just being another middle-aged pervert. Blending.”
    “I think you were enjoying your work.”
    I realized that, not for the first time, I was underestimating this kid, this young man, rather, who was more seasoned every time I saw him. He was getting smarter, and I needed to get smarter about it. He knew my tactics now, knew that I wouldn’t be waiting where I said I’d be. And he was becoming sufficiently tactical himself to know where I’d probably be, instead. I had to stop playing him as though he was still a beginner. He wasn’t, and hadn’t been for a long time.
    I smiled. “Maybe a little. I was there for two hours. It wouldn’t have gone by as fast with Car and Driver. ”
    We shook hands, and I looked him over. I nodded in approval of what I saw: a slim, thirtysomething Japanese American with the kind of serious eyes you get from realizing the world isn’t the innocent place you once imagined it to be, and from suspecting that what you do makes you complicit.
    Over sandwiches and coffee, using English and keeping my voice low so as not to be overheard by the other patrons, I briefed him on everything that had happened with Hilger and Dox. I explained that there were three hits, but told him I didn’t yet have any specifics. Given Jannick’s CIA backing, I judged any mention of him too risky. The CIA connection might have been relevant to Kanezaki, for reasons I couldn’t yet understand. He might have felt obligated to warn Jannick, or to otherwise prevent me from carrying out the hit. If protecting Jannick was important enough to Kanezaki, telling him might even have been dangerous. If someone wants to get to you, and he knows who your target is, he doesn’t have to find you. He just has to find your target, and wait for you to show up.
    When I was done, he said, “I’m sorry to hear about all this.”
    I looked at him. “Sorry isn’t really what matters here. What matters is what you’re going to do about it.”
    “What do you expect me to do?”
    I felt a flush of irritation. “I expect you to help Dox.”
    “I don’t really know how much I can.”
    “How many jobs has he done for you? Three? Four?”
    “We’ve worked together. But that