Rainfall

“Had you there,” I told him.

17

HARRY RENTED ME a van from a place in Roppongi, using alias ID just in case, while I waited at his apartment to keep my exposure down. His apartment is a strange place, crammed with arcane electronic equipment, but nothing to make his life more comfortable. He’d told me a few years earlier that he’d read how the police had caught some indoor marijuana farmers by monitoring their electric bills — seems that hydroponic equipment sucks down a lot more electricity than average — and now Harry thinks his electronic signature might lead the police to him. So he doesn’t use any electrical appliances that aren’t absolutely necessary: a category that, in Harry’s world, doesn’t include a refrigerator, heat, or air-conditioning.

When he came back, we loaded the equipment into the back of the van. It’s sophisticated stuff. The laser reads the vibrations on windows that are caused by conversation inside, then feeds the resulting data into a computer, which breaks down the patterns into words. And the infrared can read minutely different temperatures on glass — the kind caused by body heat in an otherwise cool room.

When we were done, I parked the van and made my way back to Shibuya, of course conducting a solid SDR en route.

I got to the hotel at a little past one o’clock. I had picked up some sandwiches at a stand I found on one of the nameless streets that snake off Dogenzaka, and Midori and I ate them sitting on the floor while I filled her in on what was going on. I gave her the package I had brought, told her that she should wear the scarf and sunglasses when she went out. I gave her Harry’s address, told her to put her things together and meet me there in two hours.

When I arrived at Harry’s, he was already running Kawamura’s disk. A half hour later the buzzer rang; Harry walked over to the intercom, pressed a button, and said, “Hai.”

“Watashi desu” came the response. It’s me. I nodded, getting up to check the window, and Harry pressed the button to open the front entrance. Then he walked over to his door, opened it, and peered out. Better to see who’s coming before they get to your position, while you still have time to react.

A minute later he opened the door wide and motioned Midori to come inside.

I said to her in Japanese, “This is Harry, the friend I told you about. He’s a little shy around people because he spends all his time with computers. Just be nice to him and he’ll open up after a while.”

“Hajimemashite,” Midori said, turning to Harry and bowing. Nice to meet you.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Harry responded in Japanese. He was blinking rapidly, and I could see that he was nervous. “Please don’t listen to my friend. The government used him to test experimental drugs during the war, and it’s led to premature senility.”

Harry? I thought, impressed with his sudden gumption.

Midori made a face of perfect innocence and said, “It was caused by drugs?”

She had a light touch with him, I was glad to see. Harry looked at me with a radiant smile, feeling he’d finally gotten the better of me, and maybe had found an ally, too.

“Okay, I can see you’re both going to get along,” I said, cutting them off before Harry used his newfound courage to escalate to who knows what. “We don’t have much time. This is the plan.” I explained to Midori what I was going to do.

“I don’t like it,” she said, when I was done. “They could see you. It could be dangerous.”

“No one’s going to see me.”

“You should give Harry and me some time with the musical code.”

“I’ve already been over this with Harry. You both do your jobs; I’ll do mine. It’s more efficient. I’ll be fine.”

I DROVE THE van to the Conviction facility in Shibakoen, just south of the government district in Kasumigaseki. Conviction occupied part of the second floor of a building on Hibiya-dori, across from Shiba Park. I would use the laser to pick up the locus of conversation in their offices, and then, based on Harry’s analysis of what we picked up, I’d be able to guess which room or rooms would be the best candidates for a transmitter. The same equipment would tell me when the offices had emptied out, probably well after dark, and that’s when I’d go in to place the bug. The video might help us identify anyone else who was involved with the Agency and Conviction, and give us some clues about the nature of the connection between the two.

I parked across the street from the building. The spot was in a no-parking zone, but it was a good enough location to risk a ticket from a bored meter maid.

I had just finished setting up the equipment and targeting it at the appropriate windows when I heard a tap on the van’s passenger-side window. I looked up and saw a uniformed cop. He was rapping the glass with his nightstick.

Oh, shit. I made a conciliatory gesture, as though I was going to just drive away, but he shook his head and said, “Dete yo.” Get out.

The equipment was pointing out the back driver-side window, and wasn’t visible from the cop’s vantage point. I would have to take a chance. I slid across to the passenger side and opened the door, then stepped down onto the curb.

There were three men waiting on the blind side of the van, where I couldn’t see them until I was outside. They were armed with matching Beretta 92 Compacts and wore sunglasses and bulky coats — light disguise to change the shape of the face and the build. I took this to mean that they would shoot me if I resisted, counting on the disguises to confuse potential witnesses. They all had the classic kendoka’s ears. I recognized the one standing closest to me from outside Midori’s apartment — the guy with the flat nose who had gone in after I had ambushed Midori’s would-be abductors. One of them thanked the cop, who turned and walked away.

They motioned me across the street, and there wasn’t much I could do except comply. At least this solved the problem of how I was going to get into the building. I had an earpiece in my pocket, as well as one of Harry’s custom adhesive-backed microtransmitters. If I saw the chance, I’d put the transmitter in place.

They brought me in the front entrance, their hands staying steady in their coat pockets. We took the stairs to the second floor, the three of them crowding me on the way up, taking away any room to maneuver. When we got to the landing at the top of the stairs, Flatnose shoved me up against the wall, pushing his gun against my neck. One of his partners patted me down. He was looking for a weapon and didn’t notice the small transmitter in my pocket.