John Rain 08: Graveyard of Memories by Barry Eisler Read Free Book Online Page A

I’m guessing.”
    “Well, listen to Albert Einstein here. I guess you’re not as dumb as you act. And the best part is, the two cousins were close. Close as brothers. You want to know Fukumoto Junior’s nickname?”
    “I don’t know. Do I?”
    “Mad Dog. So you, genius, just killed the cousin of a yakuza named Mad Dog. Proud of yourself?”
    I didn’t say anything. I was suddenly scared, and I felt like McGraw could see right through my bravado.
    The waitress returned with our food. But I had no appetite. I picked up a gyoza with my chopsticks, dipped it in sauce, and chewed it, barely noticing the taste. “What does this mean?”
    “Mean? It means you need to get your candy ass out of Japan. And not come back, ever.”
    I shook my head. “I can’t just…”
    I stopped. I didn’t even know what I was trying to say. What was it I couldn’t do? Go back to the States, which felt like an alien planet when I’d briefly returned after the war? Admit I wasn’t reliable even to carry a bribery bag for a bunch of corrupt politicians and businessmen? Accept that I’d lost my temper, and fucked up, and blown everything?
    McGraw must have seen my distress. Uncharacteristically, his face softened. “I’m sorry, son. You’re no good to me now. You’re too hot. Word is, they already have a contract out on you.”
    “Yeah, I got that feeling. They already made a run at me at the Kodokan.”
    “What?”
    I wasn’t sure why he was so surprised. What did he think a yakuza contract entailed? I told him what had happened.
    “Well, it’s good you didn’t kill the guy,” he said, when I was done. “Bad enough you have the yakuza on your ass, you don’t need the police, too. Now look, I’ll make sure you get a ticket home. But that’s all I can do.”
    I don’t have a home , I thought. No, not thought. Realized. What the hell was I going to do?
    He inhaled several gyoza , then tucked into the fried rice. I forced down a few more bites, thinking hard, looking for a way out.
    After a few minutes, I said, “What if I don’t want to go?”
    He took an enormous swallow of beer and belched. “You stick around, the Agency will put out a burn notice on you. They don’t want the attention, you understand? Or worse, they’ll drop a dime. Not to the police. To Fukumoto, or to Mad Dog, or to whoever. A lot of people would be happy to have guys like that in their debt.”
    “Why don’t you?”
    He looked at me, his skin puffy, gin blossoms under his eyes and across his nose. But somehow, for an instant, I could see the formidable young man he must have once been.
    “Because I’m not gutless. Because I believe in karma. Because if you get your shit together and learn to control your temper, you have your whole life ahead of you, and I don’t want to be the one who cuts it short.”
    We sat in silence again, eating, McGraw with gusto, I with considerably less enthusiasm. My mind was racing, rebelling. Things had been okay. After some of the places I’d been, okay was worth a lot. And now this. It was a mistake. It didn’t have to happen. I didn’t want to go.
    Something came to me. A long shot, but I didn’t see a lot of options. “Who’s my problem here?” I asked.
    McGraw looked at me suspiciously. He chewed and swallowed. “What do you mean?”
    “I mean, who’s motivated to come after me?”
    “I told you, Fukumoto and his son.”
    “Because I killed Fukumoto’s nephew. The son’s cousin.”
    “Is that so hard to understand?”
    “But you said the nephew was a punk. A prince, but a punk. What did you mean by that?”
    McGraw waved a hand dismissively. “The kid had a reputation. Trouble with the police. Multiple fuck-ups. High profile, low profits. He and Mad Dog were peas in a pod, and equally close.”
    “So this…problem I have. It’s being driven just by, what, family honor?”
    “‘Just’ family honor? Do you know anything at all about the yakuza? You think a guy named Mad Dog is going to