The Last Assassin

'No. They were Japanese, yakuza from the way they looked and talked. You fuck, what did you do?'

'Take Koichiro. Right now, take him somewhere no one would know to look for you. Don't use credit cards, don't use your cell phone…'

'I am not going to just pull the two of us out of our life! Because of you!'

'Midori, you have to…'

'No!'

I thought for a moment. 'Okay, it's going to be okay. I'm going to come out there, I'm going to take care of this.'

'Don't come out here, stay the hell away from us!'

'That's not going to solve the problem,' I said, surprised at the calm in my voice. 'Let's solve this problem, then you can do anything you want. Did you tell them anything? How to find me?'

'What could I tell them?'

'Okay, I'm going to check on something, then I'm going to call you back in fifteen minutes.'

I clicked off without even waiting for an answer. Tatsu was already pale from what he'd overheard. When I told him what had happened, he went white.

'What the fuck is going on?' I said. 'You just told me…'

'I told you, Kuro isn't in control yet. No one even knows yet that Yamaoto is dead.'

'Yeah, but when could Yamaoto have…'

'Maybe on the way from the club, in the limousine. Before he got to the hospital. Let me check.'

Tatsu picked up his phone and input a number. He asked questions. Listened. Asked more questions. Listened again. He said, 'Call them off.' He listened more, then swore and clicked off. He looked at me.

'Yes, it seems Yamaoto made the call on the way to the hospital. He sent two soldiers to New York. To pressure Midori and the child to get to you.'

'And if the pressure doesn't work?'

He didn't answer. He didn't need to. I could see it in his eyes.

'You told Kuro to call them off. What did he say?'

'He can't. The two men Yamaoto sent were his Praetorian guard, his personal killers, loyal only to him. Everyone else Kuro can reach. But these two have no co

My stomach heaved again. I breathed in and out, in and out, willing my gorge back down.

I called Midori. 'I know what the problem is,' I said. 'And I can solve it. I'm on my way to the airport now. I'm going to catch an evening nonstop. I'll be at JFK' – I looked at my watch – 'tomorrow evening your time. I'll call you the second I land.'

There was a pause. She said, 'I hate you.'

I nodded. 'I know.'

50

I raced back to the hotel to get my passport, calling airlines to check on flights on the way. The next one I could get was a JAL nonstop that left at 7:05 that evening and arrived in New York at five in the evening of the same day. I booked a seat.

I checked out of the hotel and returned the van before catching a train to the airport. I could have asked Dox to take care of it for me, but I felt like if I didn't have a task I might explode.

On the way to the airport, my phone buzzed twice – once Dox, once Delilah. I didn't answer.

I thought about how I would find the two goons who had threatened Midori. I didn't expect it to be difficult. They'd be watching her now, waiting for me to show up. And I would show up. Just not where, when, or how they were expecting.

But then something I'd understood since the moment Midori called finally spoke up in conscious terms. It had been right there, in those three simple words: I hate you. But I hadn't wanted to acknowledge it.

No matter how this turned out, Midori would never again indulge my protestations about how I could get out of the life. That part was over. The best I could hope for now was merely to restore the way things had been before. Everything else I'd fought for, everything else I'd wanted, had just been snatched away.

I had no appetite, but I stopped at a noodle place in the airport departure lounge and forced myself to eat. My body wanted to break into a sprint, but it was still way too early in the race for that. I needed to stay calm. Until it was time to not be calm.

When the plane started boarding, I found a quiet corner away from the lines and called Dox. He answered immediately. 'Hey, man, where've you been? You get my message?'

'I saw that you called. Sorry I wasn't able to get back to you until now.'

'Everything all right?'

'Yamaoto's dead. Heart attack in the hospital earlier today.'

There was a pause. Dox said, 'I knew you were going to go off and do something by yourself. Son, you're incorrigible. But nice work, and congratulations.'

'Yeah.'

'You should have called me, though.'

'I'm sorry. I can't put you at any more risk than I already have.'

'What are you talking about, "risk"? We're partners, remember?'

'Listen. I can't talk long. My plane's about to leave for New York.'

'New York? What's going on?'

I told him about the call from Midori.

'Goddamnit, man, you didn't call me about this? I'm coming to the airport right now.'

'The plane's leaving now. You won't be able to make it. Even if you came, by the time you got there it would already be done. One way or the other.'

'Goddamnit, John, you're being stupid! You've got friends, man, people who want to help you.'

'I don't need your help.'

'The hell you don't. You're not thinking clearly, it's obvious. Wait, hold on, I'm here having coffee with Delilah, she wants to talk to you.'

There was a pause, then Delilah said, 'John, what's going on?'

I told her about the call from Midori.

'Oh God,' she said. 'Why didn't you call us?'

The boarding line was getting smaller. 'It's not your fight,' I said.

'Yes, it is.'

I didn't respond. What was the point? No it isn't, yes it is?

'Dox told me why you didn't go after Yamaoto when he ran out of the club,' she said. 'You went back for me.'

Again I didn't respond. What happened at the club was already irrelevant.

'John, let us help you. Please.'

'Look, I appreciate it, I really do. But I have to go.'

'You set it up this way. You waited to call until it was too late. What, were you afraid we would persuade you to let us help?'

An a

'Wait. There's something I want to tell you about New York…' she started to say.

'Not now. We'll have another chance.'

'But…'

'I promise,' I said, and shut down the phone.

51

The twelve-hour flight to New York was torture. I couldn't sleep, but I wasn't fully conscious, either. Mostly I stared out the window into the darkness and tried not to think. I felt like Schrödinger's cat, trapped in a steel box, neither dead nor alive, waiting for the intervention of some outside event to resolve my ambiguous state once and for all and deliver me from purgatory.

I emerged from JFK customs and into the arrivals lounge, dragging my carry-on behind me. I sca

Bam. A punch-permed stocky Japanese guy in a waist-length black leather jacket, his mouth twisted in a permanent ugly sneer, watching me with studied nonchalance. Yakuza central casting, just as Midori had described.

My eyes didn't even pause on him. From his perspective, it would seem I hadn't noticed him at all.

I kept moving forward, looking around with the same casual air. And there, at the opposite end of the arrivals area, hanging back behind some waiting people, another Japanese with a punch perm, taller and even uglier than his partner. Some men are built for stealth, others, for intimidation. These two were obviously of the latter variety.