December 6 Read Online Free PDF

Sergeant,” Harry said. “No charge.”
    “Harry! Harry, it’s me!” The soldier tried to pull his tunic straight. “It’s me, Hajime!”
    “Hajime?”
    “S’me. Harry, such a long time. Old friends, yes?” Hajime said, although Harry didn’t remember him as a friend. More the schoolmate most likely to be reborn as vermin. The eyeglasses and mustache were new, but behind them was the same round face. Harry remembered how, as a boy, Hajime had been the most relentless of tormentors, the first to set on Harry, the last to leave off. “Buy me a drink?”
    “I’ll find you a ride.” Harry peeled Hajime’s hand off his sleeve.
    “Wait, wait.” Hajime backpedaled, undid the buttons of his pants and pissed in a gutter as passersby jumped aside. The Japanese were the cleanest people on earth, but they made extraordinary allowances for drunks. A man could kiss his boss or piss in the street as long he was deemed under the influence. The nosebleed started again.
    Harry gave him a handkerchief. “Keep it and button yourself up.”
    Head back, handkerchief pressed against his nose, Hajime staggered under the neon sign. The EiffelTower sizzled like a rocket; everyone near it wore a red glow.
    “This is your own club, I hear. ‘Happy Palace.’”
    “Paris.”
    “Something like that. Just one drink, Harry. Meet your new friends.”
    “Would you like to piss on their shoes or bleed on them?”
    “I need to have a good time, Harry. I’m shipping out tomorrow. That’s why I was celebrating.”
    “By yourself?”
    Hajime leaned on him. “There’s no one, Harry. No wife, no family. Friends are worthless shits. But we had great times, Harry. ‘Forty-seven Ronin,’ that was us. A little rough, but no harm meant, Harry. How long has it been? Lord Kira, that was you.”
    “I remember.” Harry directed Hajime toward the corner. There would be taxis at the theaters.
    “China. I’ve been to China, Harry. I could tell you stories.”
    “I bet you could.” Harry knew that a real friend would inquire into Hajime’s military career, but war stories didn’t appeal to Harry. With the Japanese spy mania, it was unwise for a Westerner to ask a soldier anything: where he’d been stationed, where he was going, doing what.
    “Americans don’t go to war, do they? So you’re safe.”
    “I hope so.”
    “I want to see your famous club, celebrate there.”
    “I’m going to do you a bigger favor. I’m going to put you in a taxi.”
    Hajime tried to wrestle free. “Now you’re rich, you’re too good for your old friends. Let’s see your club.”
    “No.”
    “Then promise me something.” Hajime stopped struggling and lowered his voice. “Promise to see me off tomorrow, Harry? Sixteen hundred, Tokyo Station.”
    “You can find someone else.”
    “You, Harry. Just to have someone there. Promise?”
    Hajime wore a smirk, but maybe that was his sole expression, Harry thought. Like one size fits all. “You’ll get in a taxi if I do?”
    “Yes.”
    “Okay. Tokyo Station, four o’clock.” There were other things to do on a Sunday afternoon. Bidding Hajime a fond adieu wasn’t high on Harry’s list.
    “You’ll be there?” Hajime asked.
    “Scout’s honor.”
    Harry stopped a taxi, stuffed Hajime into the backseat and gave the driver two yen, which would cover the meter to anywhere in the city and clean a bloody seat. As the car moved off, Hajime stuck his head out the window. His eyeglasses were bright with theater lights, but there was something hidden behind Hajime’s expression, some nasty surprise tucked under his mustache or kept up his sleeve.
    “Tokyo Station, Harry.”
    Harry gave the taxi a halfhearted wave. The car had disappeared in the crowd when Harry remembered the gun still in his belt. He kicked himself. A gun might be useful if Ishigami caught up with him, but Harry didn’t want to shoot anyone. It was against the law to possess a handgun, and his first instinct was to ditch it. The