criteria for an agent, unlike West Pointers, whose physical measurements ensure symmetry on the parade ground. Agents are a mixed bag of unemployed and professionals, chambermaids, sailors, cabinet ministers, shipping magnates, guerrilla leaders, mistresses, and musicians.
Even blue-blooded and aristocratic agents are not socially acceptable. They see themselves working for a noble cause, but their self-esteem is not shared by outsiders except in the Soviet Union, where spying is an honorable profession.
The intelligence agent has to be continually vetted. When one agent submits a report, another agent is often tasked to steal a document to confirm the information or plant a “bug” to corroborate it. A political action agent may be assigned to write an editorial for an “agent-of-influence” to act on. Meanwhile, another agent, a counterspy, keeps on the lookout for “doubles” and hostile penetrations.
For most, an agent’s life is dangerous and often life threatening, but he normally is not entitled to social security or a pension. In exceptional cases, however,an agent may be given the option of early retirement or granted “resettlement.” But the latter is a rare exception.
Kanto was an ideal agent candidate. He had “access,” because his brother was the secretary general of the target organization. He was dedicated to democratic ideals and opposed to fascism or communism. Most important, he was unemployed, a university graduate, and needed money.
The trip to Owata would last two weeks, long enough to work up a “soft pitch.”
Kanto and I spent most of our time calling on local union officials, talking to miners, and visiting families. At night we stayed in small Bushidan inns, ryokan . Breakfast was a foul-smelling fish soup, lunch was rice balls and seaweed, and for supper we ate squid. Kanto taught me the proper way to belch and end the meal with a kotowaza , a Bushidan proverb. My favorite was, “Bushi wa, kuwa nedo, taka yoji.” Even if the samurai’s stomach is empty, he holds his toothpick high.
After supper we soaked in a hot bath until a blind masseur came to knead out our knots and cramps. Then we talked. I took mental notes as he told me about his childhood and early youth, education, and friends. I probed as deeply as I could, trying to dissect his psychological id without intruding into his Bushidan gestalt.
By the end of our trip, I was ready to risk a “soft pitch.”
The Soft Pitch
Dissimulating means drawing a veil composed of honest shadows, which does not constitute falsehood but allows truth some respite.
—UMBERTO ECO, Island of the Day Before
Although I was convinced I had elicited enough data about Kanto to risk a soft pitch, I knew that I had to be wary. A foreigner can rarely plumb the Bushidan soul, and I had to tread carefully not to upset Kanto.
After dinner I began by telling Kanto how much I had enjoyed our trip together and that I regretted that it had to come to an end. Kanto agreed, saying he too was sad our time together was almost over. Having provided the opening I was looking for, I asked Kanto if he would like to continue our association after we returned to Edo. I wanted to finish my project and needed someone to help me cobble together more material for the book, which would be hard to obtain on my own. I added that I would insist on paying him a stipend for his services.
By offering to pay him, I had peeled off one layer of my cover. Kanto recoiled as if I had slapped or insulted him, and I wondered if I had misjudged the depth of our friendship. I knew Bushidans don’t like mixing money and friendship, but at some point I had to push the money button to move the operation forward. I tried to sugarcoat the offer of money by telling Kanto I couldn’t ask him to work for me without offering him a “stipend,” stipend being less offensive than “pay” or “salary.” Kanto visibly relaxed when I explained the distinction between stipend and
Even blue-blooded and aristocratic agents are not socially acceptable. They see themselves working for a noble cause, but their self-esteem is not shared by outsiders except in the Soviet Union, where spying is an honorable profession.
The intelligence agent has to be continually vetted. When one agent submits a report, another agent is often tasked to steal a document to confirm the information or plant a “bug” to corroborate it. A political action agent may be assigned to write an editorial for an “agent-of-influence” to act on. Meanwhile, another agent, a counterspy, keeps on the lookout for “doubles” and hostile penetrations.
For most, an agent’s life is dangerous and often life threatening, but he normally is not entitled to social security or a pension. In exceptional cases, however,an agent may be given the option of early retirement or granted “resettlement.” But the latter is a rare exception.
Kanto was an ideal agent candidate. He had “access,” because his brother was the secretary general of the target organization. He was dedicated to democratic ideals and opposed to fascism or communism. Most important, he was unemployed, a university graduate, and needed money.
The trip to Owata would last two weeks, long enough to work up a “soft pitch.”
Kanto and I spent most of our time calling on local union officials, talking to miners, and visiting families. At night we stayed in small Bushidan inns, ryokan . Breakfast was a foul-smelling fish soup, lunch was rice balls and seaweed, and for supper we ate squid. Kanto taught me the proper way to belch and end the meal with a kotowaza , a Bushidan proverb. My favorite was, “Bushi wa, kuwa nedo, taka yoji.” Even if the samurai’s stomach is empty, he holds his toothpick high.
After supper we soaked in a hot bath until a blind masseur came to knead out our knots and cramps. Then we talked. I took mental notes as he told me about his childhood and early youth, education, and friends. I probed as deeply as I could, trying to dissect his psychological id without intruding into his Bushidan gestalt.
By the end of our trip, I was ready to risk a “soft pitch.”
The Soft Pitch
Dissimulating means drawing a veil composed of honest shadows, which does not constitute falsehood but allows truth some respite.
—UMBERTO ECO, Island of the Day Before
Although I was convinced I had elicited enough data about Kanto to risk a soft pitch, I knew that I had to be wary. A foreigner can rarely plumb the Bushidan soul, and I had to tread carefully not to upset Kanto.
After dinner I began by telling Kanto how much I had enjoyed our trip together and that I regretted that it had to come to an end. Kanto agreed, saying he too was sad our time together was almost over. Having provided the opening I was looking for, I asked Kanto if he would like to continue our association after we returned to Edo. I wanted to finish my project and needed someone to help me cobble together more material for the book, which would be hard to obtain on my own. I added that I would insist on paying him a stipend for his services.
By offering to pay him, I had peeled off one layer of my cover. Kanto recoiled as if I had slapped or insulted him, and I wondered if I had misjudged the depth of our friendship. I knew Bushidans don’t like mixing money and friendship, but at some point I had to push the money button to move the operation forward. I tried to sugarcoat the offer of money by telling Kanto I couldn’t ask him to work for me without offering him a “stipend,” stipend being less offensive than “pay” or “salary.” Kanto visibly relaxed when I explained the distinction between stipend and
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