A Lonely Resurrection

Kevorkian. But I’m ready to hear the end.”
    “The end?”
    “Yes. The part that goes, ‘Here’s the combination to my safe.’”
    “The combination. . . oh, no. No, no, no.” Alarm was creeping into his voice. “How did he talk you into this? What did he tell you, those reformers are heroes? For God’s sake, they’re just like all the other politicians in this damn country, they’re just as selfish and venal. Kanezaki doesn’t know what he’s doing.”
    I shot the baton into his wounded leg again. He screamed and went down.
    “Quiet,” I said. “Or I’ll do the same to your arms.”
    He clenched his teeth and rocked on his back, one arm holding his leg, the other arm jerking left to right in front of his head in a vain attempt to ward off the next attack.
    “I warned you about making me ask you something twice,” I said. “Now spit it out. Or they won’t even be able to use dental records to ID you.”
    He groaned and clutched his leg. Finally he said, “Thirty-two twice left, four once right, twelve left.”
    I took out the mobile phone and speed-dialed Kanezaki. He picked up instantly and I repeated the number.
    “Hold on.” A few seconds passed. “I’m in,” he said.
    “You find what you were looking for?”
    I heard papers rustling. “Big time.”
    I clicked off.
    “There’s a marker about a meter to your right,” I told him. “You can use it to stand.”
    He pulled himself in the right direction and got slowly to his feet, using the marker to support himself. He slumped against it, panting, his face slicked with sweat.
    “You knew they were going to do Harry,” I said.
    He shook his head. “No.”
    “But you suspected.”
    “I suspect everything. I’m paid to suspect. That’s not the same as knowing.”
    “Why did you ask me to kill Kanezaki?”
    “I think you know,” he said, his breathing getting a little more even. “If those receipts were used, someone would have to be blamed for it. It would be best if that person weren’t in a position to tell his side of the story.”
    “Is he still in any danger?”
    He chuckled ruefully. “Not if those receipts are no longer in play, no.”
    “You don’t seem too upset.”
    He shrugged. “I’m a professional. None of this is personal for me. I hope the same goes for you.”
    “What happens to Crepuscular?”
    He sighed and looked a little wistful. “Crepuscular? It’s gone. It was shut down six months ago.”
    He was already reciting the official story. No wonder he’d recovered his serenity so quickly. He knew he wasn’t going to face any personal—meaning career—repercussions.
    I looked at him for a long time. I thought of Harry, of Tatsu, most of all of Midori. Finally I said, “I’m going to let you leave here, Biddle. The smart thing would be to kill you, but I won’t. That means you owe me. If you repay that debt by trying to get back into my life, I’ll find you.”
    “I believe you,” he said.
    “When we walk out of here tonight, we walk away—agreed?”
    “We still need you,” he said. “There’s still a place for you.”
    I waited for a moment in the darkness. He realized he hadn’t answered my question. He flinched.
    “Agreed,” he said, his voice low.
    I turned and left. He could find his own way out.
    • • •
    I met Tatsu the next day, on a sunny boulevard beneath a maple tree in Yoyogi Park. I briefed him on what I’d learned from Biddle.
    “Kanezaki recovered the receipts,” he told me. “And promptly destroyed them. It’s as though they never existed. After all, Crepuscular was discontinued six months ago.”
    “That kid is naïve, but he’s got balls,” I said.
    Tatsu nodded, his eyes momentarily melancholy. “He has a good heart.”
    I smiled. It wouldn’t be like Tatsu to admit that someone might have a good head.
    “I have a feeling you haven’t seen the last of him,” I said.
    He shrugged. “I would hope not. Getting those receipts back was lucky. But I have much more to do.”
    “You can only do so much, Tatsu. Remember that.”
    “But still we must do something,
ne?
Don’t forget, modern Japan was born of samurai from the southern provinces seizing the imperial palace in Kyoto and declaring the restoration of the Meiji emperor. Perhaps something like that could happen again. Perhaps a rebirth of democracy.”
    “Perhaps,” I said.
    He turned to me. “What will you do, Rain-san?”
    I looked out at the trees. “I’m thinking about