Customs was quick. It took longer, in fact, to walk through the winding maze of corridors and stairs to get from the gate to the customs counter than it took for the man at the desk to inspect Gage’s passport and stamp the visitor’s visa. With only a carryon, Gage was on his way out of Kansai Kuukou’s main terminal in no time, headed for the train stop across the road. He went immediately to the coin lockers and found number 0716. Using the key he’d been issued at headquarters, he opened it carefully, after looking around to be sure no one was too close.

Inside, Gage found three very important items. The first was a Japanese mobile phone. He snapped open the keitai and entered the same number, 0716, unlocking the features. A few rapid thumb clicks and he switched the display from Japanese to English and changed the code to one of his own choosing. The second item in the locker was a soft black leather zippered document case. He pulled it out and unzipped it. Inside were his briefing documents (in English), an envelope with ¥2,000,000 in ¥10,000 (ichi man) notes—approximately $18,000, and two full magazines for a Glock 9mm pistol. The final item was wrapped in a dark terrycloth towel and looked vaguely triangular. This last Gage quickly stowed in his bag. He tucked the document case under one arm and pocketed the keitai.

Rather than taking the train into Osaka to make the Kintetsu line connection, Gage decided to take a taxi. Even though it cost more than ten times as much as the train ride, he needed the relative privacy of the cab to get his gear and documents in order. He went downstairs to the edge of the road and stepped into the first waiting taxi at the cab stand.

“Tennoji Eki onegaishimasu.”

“Eh? Tennoji Eki desuka?”

“Hai. Sou desu.”

“Hai.”

The driver pulled out into traffic carefully and merged into the traffic loop around the airport. The sun was low over the ocean and bleeding through wispy streamers of clouds, casting a sepia reflection across the sea and through the window of the taxi. Gage snapped open his keitai again and clicked the browser button, connecting to the Web. After a few more clicks, he was able to enter a URL and access the agency’s server. Once he connected and logged in, he was able to download a file into the phone. A few more clicks and one more 0716 later, and the file extracted itself and populated the keitai with contacts in the address book, graphics files for navigating the Osaka and Nara-ken train systems, and ¥30,000 in credit for swiping the phone at the train turnstiles and convenience stores.

While the file downloaded, Gage looked out over the coastline. The cab was crossing the huge bridge linking Kansai Airport and Osaka. Immediately, right up to the edge of the ocean, Osaka was a tangled mass of industrial complexes. Factories jutted into the sea, and shipping boats crowded and clustered around warehouses with attached docks. The city stretched to the horizon in both directions. It was strange, but Gage realized that this was one of the few times he had actually seen a real horizon in Japan, though he’d been there many times. Through most of the country, the horizon is obliterated by cluster upon cluster of buildings, or mountains in the distance, fading of into layers.

This was a strange case. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, and set to reading the dossier he’d been given. The letter of introduction was terse but useful, with typical Japanese efficiency.

Mr. Gage,

Thank you for coming to Japan. You will meet with our operative at Yagi-Nishiguchi Station on the Kintetsu Line in Nara Prefecture. Please follow his instructions carefully. When you have arrived at the station, please dial the number in your keitai labeled “Yojimbo.” The operative will meet you. If you do not dial the number by 22:00, the operative will leave the station and you will be without assistance. The last train from Kashihara Jingu-mae arrives at 21:52. The last train from Yamato-Saidaiji arrives at 21: 54. Please do not deviate from these instructions.

Sincerely,

The Japan Branch