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Authors: Stuart Methven
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salary but stiffened again when I added that the stipend wouldn’t be coming out of my pocket but would be paid by my “sponsor.”
“Sponsor?” Kanto was on his guard again as I peeled off another layer of my cover. If Kanto would accept a stipend coming from an unidentified sponsor, it would edge him one step closer to recruitment.
I explained to Kanto that a sponsor was necessary to fund research on my book about the coal miners. Kanto scratched his head and shifted uneasily. He looked around the room as if trying to find an answer to his dilemma. He must have decided, because he finally stopped fidgeting, looked at me, and said, “Daijobu desu . OK.” He would accept my offer of a stipend, because he wouldn’t be taking my money and we could still remain friends.
He was right. We would remain friends. I would, however, also be his paymaster. He had accepted the soft pitch. The first hook was in.
The Recruitment
After returning to Edo, Kanto began working for me full time. I asked him to prepare papers for me on the history of the Bushidan labor movement and an analysis of Bushidan labor laws, both nonsensitive tasks. To break him out of his research cocoon, I slipped in a request for a list of labor unions and their officers.
He balked at this request, asking why I needed that kind of information for a book about coal miners. I said something about our leaders needing good information to make wise decisions, information that wasn’t always in libraries or archives, information that would provide better understanding about motivations behind the protests against our bases.
It was too much of a stretch for Kanto, and he left the office without saying whether or not he would prepare the report.
We were to have lunch later in the week at a noodle restaurant in Shibuya. I had gotten Kanto used to “clandestine” meetings outside the office and persuaded him to use an alias (he selected Momotaro, the Peach Boy). However, I wasn’t sure he would to show up, because he hadn’t been happy about providing the list of names and had left the office in a bad mood. He was at the restaurantthere, however, when I arrived. He slurped down the last of his noodles, nodded briefly, and handed me an envelope. He then got up and left the restaurant. The biographic sketches were inside the envelope. The second hook was in.
The following week I gave Kanto his stipend and asked him to sign a receipt.
“Receipt? First I give you information about my friends. Now you want a receipt for my stipend. Why?”
This was the toughest hurdle, asking a prospective agent to sign for money. I tried to soften the request, saying it was purely an “administrative detail.” Since my sponsor’s funds came from the government, he had to account for his expenditures. Nothing personal.
I had peeled off the last layer, revealing that Kanto would indirectly be working for the U.S. government. To my surprise, he didn’t protest or even react. He reached over and took the receipt, scratched something at the bottom, and handed it back.
It was the character for bridge. Kanto projected himself as a “bridge” between his country and mine, the bridge between him and me, or maybe just a bridge. It didn’t matter. Kanto had signed for money, and the last hook was in.
I had earned my brevet as a case officer.
Agent of Influence
In the sphere of political and revolutionary action . . . the professional spy has every facility to fabricate the very facts themselves, and will spread the double evil of emulation in one direction, and of panic, hasty legislation, unreflecting hate on the other.
—JOSEPH CONRAD, The Secret Agent
“Agent of Influence” is a contradiction in terms. People with influence have agents, not vice versa. Historical references to agents of influence would cite eminences grises such as Roosevelt’s Harry Hopkins and Tsar Nicolas’s Rasputin.
Even though “agent of influence” is a misnomer, it is lodged in the
“Sponsor?” Kanto was on his guard again as I peeled off another layer of my cover. If Kanto would accept a stipend coming from an unidentified sponsor, it would edge him one step closer to recruitment.
I explained to Kanto that a sponsor was necessary to fund research on my book about the coal miners. Kanto scratched his head and shifted uneasily. He looked around the room as if trying to find an answer to his dilemma. He must have decided, because he finally stopped fidgeting, looked at me, and said, “Daijobu desu . OK.” He would accept my offer of a stipend, because he wouldn’t be taking my money and we could still remain friends.
He was right. We would remain friends. I would, however, also be his paymaster. He had accepted the soft pitch. The first hook was in.
The Recruitment
After returning to Edo, Kanto began working for me full time. I asked him to prepare papers for me on the history of the Bushidan labor movement and an analysis of Bushidan labor laws, both nonsensitive tasks. To break him out of his research cocoon, I slipped in a request for a list of labor unions and their officers.
He balked at this request, asking why I needed that kind of information for a book about coal miners. I said something about our leaders needing good information to make wise decisions, information that wasn’t always in libraries or archives, information that would provide better understanding about motivations behind the protests against our bases.
It was too much of a stretch for Kanto, and he left the office without saying whether or not he would prepare the report.
We were to have lunch later in the week at a noodle restaurant in Shibuya. I had gotten Kanto used to “clandestine” meetings outside the office and persuaded him to use an alias (he selected Momotaro, the Peach Boy). However, I wasn’t sure he would to show up, because he hadn’t been happy about providing the list of names and had left the office in a bad mood. He was at the restaurantthere, however, when I arrived. He slurped down the last of his noodles, nodded briefly, and handed me an envelope. He then got up and left the restaurant. The biographic sketches were inside the envelope. The second hook was in.
The following week I gave Kanto his stipend and asked him to sign a receipt.
“Receipt? First I give you information about my friends. Now you want a receipt for my stipend. Why?”
This was the toughest hurdle, asking a prospective agent to sign for money. I tried to soften the request, saying it was purely an “administrative detail.” Since my sponsor’s funds came from the government, he had to account for his expenditures. Nothing personal.
I had peeled off the last layer, revealing that Kanto would indirectly be working for the U.S. government. To my surprise, he didn’t protest or even react. He reached over and took the receipt, scratched something at the bottom, and handed it back.
It was the character for bridge. Kanto projected himself as a “bridge” between his country and mine, the bridge between him and me, or maybe just a bridge. It didn’t matter. Kanto had signed for money, and the last hook was in.
I had earned my brevet as a case officer.
Agent of Influence
In the sphere of political and revolutionary action . . . the professional spy has every facility to fabricate the very facts themselves, and will spread the double evil of emulation in one direction, and of panic, hasty legislation, unreflecting hate on the other.
—JOSEPH CONRAD, The Secret Agent
“Agent of Influence” is a contradiction in terms. People with influence have agents, not vice versa. Historical references to agents of influence would cite eminences grises such as Roosevelt’s Harry Hopkins and Tsar Nicolas’s Rasputin.
Even though “agent of influence” is a misnomer, it is lodged in the
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