Girl in a Box Read Free Page A

body was found floating in the Sumida River.”
    A chill ran through me. “Do you mean Tyler Farraday? I read a story about an American male model working in Tokyo who supposedly did too much cocaine one night and tumbled in the river.”
    â€œTyler Farraday—not his real name—was our boy.” Michael’s expression was sober. “Actually, he was technically another spy agency’s boy, but I was forced to use him in the new spirit of joint agency cooperation. I was hesitant about him from the start, Rei. I had a feeling he wasn’t strong enough.”
    And you think I am? I thought to myself gloomily. Aloud, I said, “Well, knowing what you know, why don’t you just press charges against the store owners?”
    â€œThe Japanese police have to do that, and remember—we can’t do anything. Our organization doesn’t even exist, as you know.”
    â€œOh, right,” I said.
    â€œAnyway, there’s no evidence linking anyone at Mitsutan with his death, and it may actually turn out to be a straightforward yakuza murder, as it appeared to us, based on the autopsy. But don’t worry about trying to figure out what happened to him. All I want you to do is get a picture of what’s going on within the store culture. Just come up with some evidence of irregularities, and I can take it from there.”
    I looked at Michael’s closed expression, suspecting there was something more, but knowing that I wasn’t going to get a bit of what it was—at least, not yet.
    â€œHow can I figure out the store culture, though?” I asked, absent-mindedly folding a DLI T-shirt into thirds, the way Hugh did it—and then quickly undoing the folds. This was my own T-shirt; I should fold it differently, perhaps Japanese-style. “Do you want me to make a series of shopping trips at all its branches, or something like that?”
    â€œIt’s a bit more sophisticated than that.” Michael went on to explain that I’d be based at the main store, where I’d collect information from written records, computers, and employee conversations. Most of this was work that I hadn’t been trained for, but would be first thing on my arrival in Washington.
    â€œPeople take years to learn those espionage methods,” I protested. “I should have at least a year or two to prepare.”
    â€œCIA case officers do, yes. But you’re not a case officer; you’re an informant. And OCI is a small, street-smart agency; we aren’t budgeted for prolonged training.” Michael hauled a taped-up box to the apartment’s entryway, then returned. “Don’t worry another moment, Rei. I’ll personally oversee your training in D.C. You’ll learn the most important tools of the trade, which I’m sure you’ll have no problem with, given your demonstrated skill with a putty knife. At the same time, you’ll start the application process for your job at the store.”
    â€œWait a minute! I’m going to work for Mitsutan? Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”
    â€œIt’s the perfect setup. You will be on the scene in uniform, with an ID card granting you access to many areas of the store.”
    â€œMichael, there’s another problem. You may not understand how hard it is for a foreigner to get hired by a Japanese company, but I do. I’ve tried.”
    â€œYou’re not a foreigner this time around.” Michael’s eyes swept over me, disheveled in my running gear. “Nor are you half Japanese. You’re a foreign-returned Japanese—a young woman who graduated from Waseda University and who’s worked in San Francisco and Tokyo, doing things like wholesaling Japanese textiles to American department stores, buying Japanese antiques for private clients, and styling a Japanese restaurant.”
    â€œHmmm,” I said, thinking. It was a pretty realistic cover. “I’ve done