moving quickly down the sidewalk. Could be a businessman, staying at the nearby Westin Hotel, in a hurry for an appointment. Or not. I filed him as a possible.
Harry disappeared, obscured by the branches of one of the
kusunoki
trees for which the street is named. So did the young Japanese guy. I turned my attention to the American. He stopped, as though he had developed a sudden interest in one of the Most Wanted posters on the side of the police box.
Gotcha.
A moment later Harry reappeared, retracing his steps, now on the south side of the street. He paused to examine the illuminated map on the corner in front of the Sapporo Building, diagonally across from the police box where the American, suddenly no longer in a hurry for his appointment, indulged his newfound interest in Japan’s Most Wanted.
Harry’s U-turn had been moderately aggressive, but not so provocative, I thought, as to cause his pursuers to let him go for the night. They wouldn’t feel he had made them. Not yet.
But let’s see.
Harry moved right onto Platanus Avenue. The American held his position. A moment later the Japanese appeared from beyond my field of vision. When he, too, had turned right onto Platanus, the American fell in behind him.
I waited another minute to see whether anyone else tickled my radar, but no one did.
I got up and took the stairs to the first floor, where I paid and thanked the proprietor for an excellent meal. Then I cut across the Garden Court complex and took the stairs to the second floor of the outdoor promenade. I leaned against the waist-high stone wall in front of the Garden Court Tower office complex like a sentry on a castle keep, watching the foot traffic moving through the esplanade below.
I knew Harry had taken one of the underground passages to the esplanade and was pausing for a bit of window-shopping en route to give me time to get in position. After a few minutes, he emerged from below me and began walking diagonally across the esplanade, away from where I was standing. Had I wanted to, I could have set up at the other end of the promenade, where I would have been able to watch him and any followers as they approached me, but I was now ninety percent certain I’d spotted the tails and didn’t need to risk giving them an opportunity to spot me.
There they were, fanned out behind him like two points at the base of a moving scalene triangle. The Japanese was looking around now at the windows of the esplanade’s stores and restaurants and at the people looking down from the promenade above. His head started to swivel to check his rear and, although I was likely to remain anonymous among the other onlookers around me, I moved back a few steps to ensure I would remain unseen.
The Japanese was showing decent, but in this case futile, countersurveillance awareness. He had obviously noted that Harry was leading him in a circle, a classic countersurveillance tactic that gives a static team multiple opportunities to try to spot a tail. I had anticipated such a reaction, though, and from here on, the route would be comfortingly straightforward, right up until the moment Harry would exit the scene and I would make a surprise appearance.
I waited ten seconds, then eased forward again. Harry had just reached the top of the incline that would take him out of the esplanade and toward the skywalk of Ebisu Station. The Japanese and American kept their positions behind him. I watched until all three of them had moved out of my field of vision, then waited to ascertain whether there might be more of them. I was unsurprised to discover no one of interest. If their numbers had been greater, they would have switched positions to avoid potential countersurveillance when they sensed they were being moved in a circle. That they hadn’t was a strong indication this was only a two-person team.
I checked my watch. Fifteen minutes to go.
I took the underground passage to the Westin, where I caught a cab to nearby Hiro. Harry
Harry disappeared, obscured by the branches of one of the
kusunoki
trees for which the street is named. So did the young Japanese guy. I turned my attention to the American. He stopped, as though he had developed a sudden interest in one of the Most Wanted posters on the side of the police box.
Gotcha.
A moment later Harry reappeared, retracing his steps, now on the south side of the street. He paused to examine the illuminated map on the corner in front of the Sapporo Building, diagonally across from the police box where the American, suddenly no longer in a hurry for his appointment, indulged his newfound interest in Japan’s Most Wanted.
Harry’s U-turn had been moderately aggressive, but not so provocative, I thought, as to cause his pursuers to let him go for the night. They wouldn’t feel he had made them. Not yet.
But let’s see.
Harry moved right onto Platanus Avenue. The American held his position. A moment later the Japanese appeared from beyond my field of vision. When he, too, had turned right onto Platanus, the American fell in behind him.
I waited another minute to see whether anyone else tickled my radar, but no one did.
I got up and took the stairs to the first floor, where I paid and thanked the proprietor for an excellent meal. Then I cut across the Garden Court complex and took the stairs to the second floor of the outdoor promenade. I leaned against the waist-high stone wall in front of the Garden Court Tower office complex like a sentry on a castle keep, watching the foot traffic moving through the esplanade below.
I knew Harry had taken one of the underground passages to the esplanade and was pausing for a bit of window-shopping en route to give me time to get in position. After a few minutes, he emerged from below me and began walking diagonally across the esplanade, away from where I was standing. Had I wanted to, I could have set up at the other end of the promenade, where I would have been able to watch him and any followers as they approached me, but I was now ninety percent certain I’d spotted the tails and didn’t need to risk giving them an opportunity to spot me.
There they were, fanned out behind him like two points at the base of a moving scalene triangle. The Japanese was looking around now at the windows of the esplanade’s stores and restaurants and at the people looking down from the promenade above. His head started to swivel to check his rear and, although I was likely to remain anonymous among the other onlookers around me, I moved back a few steps to ensure I would remain unseen.
The Japanese was showing decent, but in this case futile, countersurveillance awareness. He had obviously noted that Harry was leading him in a circle, a classic countersurveillance tactic that gives a static team multiple opportunities to try to spot a tail. I had anticipated such a reaction, though, and from here on, the route would be comfortingly straightforward, right up until the moment Harry would exit the scene and I would make a surprise appearance.
I waited ten seconds, then eased forward again. Harry had just reached the top of the incline that would take him out of the esplanade and toward the skywalk of Ebisu Station. The Japanese and American kept their positions behind him. I watched until all three of them had moved out of my field of vision, then waited to ascertain whether there might be more of them. I was unsurprised to discover no one of interest. If their numbers had been greater, they would have switched positions to avoid potential countersurveillance when they sensed they were being moved in a circle. That they hadn’t was a strong indication this was only a two-person team.
I checked my watch. Fifteen minutes to go.
I took the underground passage to the Westin, where I caught a cab to nearby Hiro. Harry
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