if you’re caught.”
I didn’t much care for how smoothly it glided out of his mouth. “What’s that, the official CIA slogan?”
“No, our official slogan is, ‘And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.’ John 8:32.”
“Odd choice of slogan for people who lie for a living.”
“Sometimes, son, we’re defined by our paradoxes.”
“And sometimes by our bullshit.”
He laughed. “Sometimes they’re one and the same.”
“Anyway. I’m not doing it.”
He shrugged. “Up to you, hotshot. Nobody’s holding a gun to your head.”
I nodded, wondering whether that was true, strictly speaking.
He polished off the last of the fried rice and slid back his chair. “Well, good luck with everything. I’m sure it’ll all work out.”
“Wait a minute. What about…the intel. On Fukumoto. And his son.”
“I thought you didn’t want that.”
“That’s…you know I want it. I told you I did.”
“And I told you what it would cost. You said you didn’t want to pay. That’s fine. Just capitalism at work.”
“It’s not capitalism. You’re trying to gouge me.”
“Call it what you want. Either way, it’s what the market will bear. Or not.”
I didn’t answer. I was looking for a way out, and didn’t see one.
He looked at me, as though wondering where he found the patience. Then he pulled his chair in again and leaned forward. “Let me explain something to you, son. We’re not partners. We’re not friends. We’re not brothers-in-arms. This is a business relationship. You provide some benefit, and you represent a cost. Well, now your own damned stupidity has increased the cost you represent, by turning you into a shit magnet for the yakuza. You want me to keep you on the payroll anyway? Fine. Tell me what’s in it for me. How are you going to increase the benefit you provide to offset the increased cost? Tell me. I’m listening.”
I said nothing.
“All right then, I think I understand. You want me to keep you around, at increased risk to my own operation, and you want me to provide you with classified intelligence files to help you commit what the Japanese judicial system would surely call murder, and you expect me to do that…what, out of the goodness of my heart?”
Again I said nothing. Inside, I was smoldering. Half at the situation, half at the brutally direct way he’d just characterized it. He had me, had me so tight he didn’t even have to pretend otherwise. I hated it. I hated that I had no choice.
“All right,” I said. “You win.”
He chuckled. “Don’t think of it that way, son. This is business, remember? We’re both coming out ahead.”
I blew out a long breath, trying to shake off the humiliation. “What did Ozawa do?”
McGraw frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Why do you want him dead?”
“Listen, son, don’t forget your pay grade. You don’t need to know why. All you need to know is who. That’s all.”
Maybe I sensed this new thing he wanted gave me leverage I hadn’t had earlier. Maybe I just couldn’t tamp down the anger anymore regardless. I said, “Like hell I do. You want to keep me in the dark about a bunch of cash in a briefcase? Fine, I don’t give a shit. You ask me to grease the fucking Executive Council chairman of the LDP? I want to know what I’m getting into.”
He smiled slightly, as though impressed by my gumption. “All right. Suppose the U.S. government supported elements of the Japanese government. In exchange for the continuation of policies the U.S. government finds desirable. Maintenance of the mutual security and cooperation treaty. Keeping the Seventh Fleet at Yokosuka. The Marines on Okinawa. Purchase of aircraft from U.S. defense contractors. That kind of thing.”
“The U.S. government bribes Japanese politicians?”
“Capitalism at work, son, how many times do I have to tell you? Each side has something the other needs.”
“You mean, one has policies to sell and the other has
I didn’t much care for how smoothly it glided out of his mouth. “What’s that, the official CIA slogan?”
“No, our official slogan is, ‘And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.’ John 8:32.”
“Odd choice of slogan for people who lie for a living.”
“Sometimes, son, we’re defined by our paradoxes.”
“And sometimes by our bullshit.”
He laughed. “Sometimes they’re one and the same.”
“Anyway. I’m not doing it.”
He shrugged. “Up to you, hotshot. Nobody’s holding a gun to your head.”
I nodded, wondering whether that was true, strictly speaking.
He polished off the last of the fried rice and slid back his chair. “Well, good luck with everything. I’m sure it’ll all work out.”
“Wait a minute. What about…the intel. On Fukumoto. And his son.”
“I thought you didn’t want that.”
“That’s…you know I want it. I told you I did.”
“And I told you what it would cost. You said you didn’t want to pay. That’s fine. Just capitalism at work.”
“It’s not capitalism. You’re trying to gouge me.”
“Call it what you want. Either way, it’s what the market will bear. Or not.”
I didn’t answer. I was looking for a way out, and didn’t see one.
He looked at me, as though wondering where he found the patience. Then he pulled his chair in again and leaned forward. “Let me explain something to you, son. We’re not partners. We’re not friends. We’re not brothers-in-arms. This is a business relationship. You provide some benefit, and you represent a cost. Well, now your own damned stupidity has increased the cost you represent, by turning you into a shit magnet for the yakuza. You want me to keep you on the payroll anyway? Fine. Tell me what’s in it for me. How are you going to increase the benefit you provide to offset the increased cost? Tell me. I’m listening.”
I said nothing.
“All right then, I think I understand. You want me to keep you around, at increased risk to my own operation, and you want me to provide you with classified intelligence files to help you commit what the Japanese judicial system would surely call murder, and you expect me to do that…what, out of the goodness of my heart?”
Again I said nothing. Inside, I was smoldering. Half at the situation, half at the brutally direct way he’d just characterized it. He had me, had me so tight he didn’t even have to pretend otherwise. I hated it. I hated that I had no choice.
“All right,” I said. “You win.”
He chuckled. “Don’t think of it that way, son. This is business, remember? We’re both coming out ahead.”
I blew out a long breath, trying to shake off the humiliation. “What did Ozawa do?”
McGraw frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Why do you want him dead?”
“Listen, son, don’t forget your pay grade. You don’t need to know why. All you need to know is who. That’s all.”
Maybe I sensed this new thing he wanted gave me leverage I hadn’t had earlier. Maybe I just couldn’t tamp down the anger anymore regardless. I said, “Like hell I do. You want to keep me in the dark about a bunch of cash in a briefcase? Fine, I don’t give a shit. You ask me to grease the fucking Executive Council chairman of the LDP? I want to know what I’m getting into.”
He smiled slightly, as though impressed by my gumption. “All right. Suppose the U.S. government supported elements of the Japanese government. In exchange for the continuation of policies the U.S. government finds desirable. Maintenance of the mutual security and cooperation treaty. Keeping the Seventh Fleet at Yokosuka. The Marines on Okinawa. Purchase of aircraft from U.S. defense contractors. That kind of thing.”
“The U.S. government bribes Japanese politicians?”
“Capitalism at work, son, how many times do I have to tell you? Each side has something the other needs.”
“You mean, one has policies to sell and the other has
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