John Rain 08: Graveyard of Memories by Barry Eisler Page A

cash to pay.”
    “Like I said, you’re not as dumb as you act. Keep this up and you might start to understand the way the world really works.”
    I wondered for a moment if McGraw’s insults might really be intended as terms of endearment. I thought it would be helpful if I could look at it that way. Otherwise, at some point I might lose my temper, as he liked to put it.
    “So what’s the problem with Ozawa? He’s asking too much?”
    “He’s giving out too little. He seems to have developed the idea that the program is a private annuity. It isn’t. And the people he’s freezing out are beginning to squawk. As in, ‘If we don’t get dealt in properly, we go to the press.’ They’ll nuke the financial gatekeepers and the whole program along with it. We need someone who’ll spread the wealth more equitably. Someone with a diplomat’s touch, not a selfish entitled prick like Ozawa. Got the picture now?”
    “I think so. How do I get to him?”
    “I’ll get you his particulars. He’s no hard target. Should be a piece of cake for a SOG hard case like you. How it happens is your call. Within certain parameters.”
    “Which are?”
    There was a pause, then, “Make it look natural.”
    “How am I going to do that?”
    “What, now you’re asking me to micromanage you? You’ll figure something out. What we don’t want is for the LDP Executive Council chairman to eat a bullet, not unless the coroner would prove it came from his own gun and by his own hand. He’s not the prime minister, not even close, but a straight-up assassination of a prominent political figure would bring down way more heat than anyone is willing to accept. Do this well, and you’ll be in a position to call in a lot of favors. But don’t fuck it up. You’ll find yourself in a very uncomfortable position if you do.”
    “Give me the information on the two yakuza first.”
    He laughed. “Do you know something called the ‘call-girl principle,’ son?”
    “Not exactly.”
    “It means the value of services rendered plummets immediately after the rendering. Right now, you need me, so you like my price, or at least you’re willing to pay it. Once I give you the two yakuza, all you’ll want to know is what I’ve done for you lately.”
    “If I do Ozawa first, how do I know you’ll follow through with the information I need?”
    “If I don’t, will you kill me?”
    I looked at him, and a strange chill settled inside me. “I think I’d have to, yeah.”
    He laughed. “I told you. You’re not as dumb as you act.”

chapter
seven
    B ack on Thanatos, bombing through night Tokyo, I was roiled with conflicting emotions. Relief that I had a potential solution to my yakuza problem. Fear at how extreme and unlikely the solution was. Anxiety at the implications of what I had just agreed to do—those I could imagine, and even more, those I was probably missing. But for now, there was nothing I could do but wait for McGraw’s intel and continue to avoid places like the Kodokan, where Mad Dog and his friends would be looking for me.
    I shoved it all aside and thought about the girl at the hotel, instead. I liked how unruffled she’d been in the face of that drunken guy’s bullshit. And how tough she’d been with me after. And the wheelchair…why? Something congenital? An accident? The reason the sight of it had surprised me so much was that she had struck me as so competent, confident, in control. I realized these weren’t qualities I associated with someone needing a wheelchair, and that my unconscious expectations were simply assumptions based primarily on foolish prejudice, itself likely the product of a lack of thought and experience. Was it weird I found her attractive? I decided I didn’t care. I didn’t even know if she could have sex. But…I wondered. Anyway, thinking about her was much more enjoyable than pondering the guerrilla war I was about to wage against mobsters determined to kill me.
    I knew I shouldn’t go