“Tom,” he said, watching Delilah, “I’m retired. At some point you have to believe me when I say that.”
Delilah watched him, shaking her head. If he thought she’d appreciate his response more than whatever had precipitated it, it was a clear case of the triumph of hope over experience.
“I need your help,” Kanezaki said. “Anything you want in return, you can have. I won’t haggle. I put someone in danger. I need you to protect her.”
“I already told Larison—”
“This is about the same thing.” He briefed Rain on a young CIA Science & Technology officer named Maya, and how she had helped uncover the plot Dox and the rest of them were now embroiled in, and how earlier that evening someone had tried to kill her, and mistakenly killed another young officer instead.
Even beyond the fact of the dead girl, it sounded bad. They weren’t containing this thing. It was metastasizing.
“You’re sure it was an attempt on Maya?” Rain said.
“The murdered girl was her friend. Walking Maya’s dog as a favor in front of Maya’s apartment while Maya was out for a date. They look enough alike. And Maya forgot her phone. Think about it. A hurry-up operation. You’re going on nothing more than a photo and a description. It’s dark. You key on the girl, on the dog, on the place, the cellphone tracker confirms location—”
“But why?”
“Maya’s a hacker,” Kanezaki said. “She figured out a way to see what requests were being illegally deleted from Guardian Angel. She figured out Rispel was trying to protect Schrader by having Diaz killed. But she must have left footprints, footprints one of Rispel’s people traced back to her.”
“So this is about Maya knowing too much?”
“Exactly.”
“What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me.”
“I do, actually, though I try not to. If Rispel made a run at Maya, why wouldn’t she make one at you?”
“I’m a little more security-conscious than Maya. Or than I was when you first met me.”
They’d originally crossed paths in Tokyo, when Kanezaki had been a green CIA case officer and almost fatally naive. But he’d learned fast. From Rain, from Dox, and most of all, Rain knew, from Tatsu, who before his death from cancer had looked on Kanezaki as a son. They’d been through a lot together, and occasionally Rain was surprised to find himself feeling proud of who Kanezaki had become. Proud of whatever he himself had contributed to it. And he knew Tatsu would have been even prouder.
“What about your family?”
“I’m not worried about them. This isn’t about revenge. It’s about a cover-up. But yeah, Rispel is moving fast and she’s making mistakes. Anyone who’s near me is at risk. I’m not going home until this is resolved.”
“Is Maya with you?”
“No. She’s with Yuki.”
Yuki was Kanezaki’s sister. Rain had met her years before, when Kanezaki needed an outsider to get Rain and Dox out of a jam. A soccer mom with something of a mysterious past, she was impressively cool and capable.
“She can’t stay with Yuki,” Rain said. A statement, not a question.
“No. For the reasons I just said.”
Rain didn’t resent the implicit calculus. There were pieces on the board Kanezaki would risk, and ones he wouldn’t.
But then Kanezaki surprised him, adding, “I’m sorry. It’s not just Yuki. It’s my nieces, too. I can’t.”
Rain remembered two adorable girls. “How old are they now? Ten? Twelve?”