The Last Assassin (31 page)

I
TOOK A TRAIN
to D.C. and spent a few sleepless hours in a motel there. I was reasonably sure the police in New York would have pictures of me from JFK video cameras. The pictures wouldn't be great, but I didn't want to take chances. New York area airports would be a bit hot for me for a while.

The next morning, I caught a flight to Los Angeles, and from there to Tokyo. I was only going back to see Tatsu. And for the money from Wajima.

By the time the plane took off from LAX, I was exhausted enough to sleep. I stayed down for almost the entire flight. It was much better than facing my wakeful thoughts.

It was getting dark when we landed. It felt like I was beginning to live in perpetual night.

When I was clear of customs at Narita, I turned on the Japanese cell phone. I had three messages waiting. Christ, I was going to need a damn secretary.

The first two were from Dox and Delilah, trying to reach me. The third was Kanezaki. He just said, “Call me.”

I didn't want to, but it might have been something operational. I input his number.

“Hey,” he said after one ring, recognizing who it was from the caller ID display.

“You called?” I asked.

“Yeah. Dox gave me back the equipment. And he briefed me. Nice work.”

“If you're about to tell me I owe you a favor,” I said, my tone dangerously flat, “you're picking a bad time.”

“It's not that at all. It's about Tatsu.”

My jaw tightened. “What is it?”

“I went to see him today, like you told me. He's not good.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

He paused, then said, “You want to tell me what the hell's up your ass?”

His gumption surprised me, and I couldn't help smiling. “I would, but it would take too long.”

He said, “Anyway, I was just calling to tell you. I know you probably already know and were probably already going to see him, but I thought I should say something just in case.”

I nodded. “All right. Thank you.”

“There's something else. You've probably heard.”

“What?”

“Our old friend Yamaoto Toshi just died. Complications in the hospital after being treated for gunshot wounds.”

“Really.”

“Yeah. I couldn't help wondering whether it was actually some kind of assisted suicide.”

“I wouldn't know. He had a lot of enemies.”

He chuckled. “We should talk,” he said. He paused, then added, “No obligation.”

Right.
“Soon,” I said. “But not now.” I clicked off.

I took the Narita Express to Tokyo Station. I checked into a business hotel, where I showered, shaved, and changed my clothes. I went out to find a liquor store, and then to see Tatsu.

The bodyguard let me in. Tatsu's daughter was there again, holding his grandson, sitting by the bed. So was a nice-looking older woman who must have been Tatsu's wife.

Tatsu was sleeping. The daughter greeted me and introduced me to the older woman—her mother, and indeed, Tatsu's wife.

“He told us to wake him if you came,” the daughter said. “But now I'm not sure.”

“No, let him sleep,” I said. “He needs it.”

On cue, Tatsu opened his eyes and looked at us. He said, “Nobody listens to me anymore.”

I laughed. Devious to the last.

“Can you stay for a bit?” he asked me.

I nodded. “As long as you can stand me.”

He looked at his wife and daughter. “Why don't you go home? You've been here all day and I know you're tired. I'm just going to talk to my friend for a little while, and then I think I'll sleep. Okay?”

The women got up. Like the first night I had been here, Tatsu kissed his grandson good-bye and whispered to him before they left. It was much more difficult for him this time, and twice he groaned in pain, but he did it.

When we were alone he said, “I heard about New York.”

I wondered how he could have heard about Midori, and then realized he was talking about earlier, what had happened at the airport. I said, “Kuro?”

He nodded. “He's not unhappy. Those men were useless to him and might even have posed a threat. Kuro has no quarrel with you.”

“Good. I'm tired of quarreling.”

“Did you see Midori and your son?”

I nodded.

“And were you able to explain?”

I nodded again. “I think so, yeah. I think it's going to be all right. It'll take a little time, but yeah.”

He smiled. It was a measure of how beaten and exhausted he was from his battle with the disease that my lie could slip past him.

“I brought you something,” I said, taking out the bottle I had picked up at the liquor store.

I handed it to him, but he was so weak I had to help him hold it. “A Lagavulin sixteen-year-old,” he said, looking at the bottle. “Oh, I've missed good whiskey.”

“You want to smell it?”

“Yes. And you have a drink for me, okay?”

“Okay.”

I poured an inch into each of two plastic cups. We touched them together and said,
“Kanpai.”

I drained mine in one gulp. Tatsu inhaled deeply and smiled. “It's the little things, isn't it?” he said.

“Yeah. I think that's true.”

“You know, Kanezaki visited me today.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “You should stay in touch with him. We were…working on something together at one point. It might interest you.”

I wondered if this had anything to do with the “favor” that, sooner or later, Kanezaki was going to extract from me.

“Yeah,” I said. “I had a feeling you guys were collaborating a little more than either of you ever let on.”

“He's a good man.”

I laughed. “He just reminds you of yourself.”

He smiled. “You know, he's the same age my son would have been.”

“You miss him, don't you?” I said.

He nodded. “Every day. But I'm going to see him soon.”

I argued with him neither about when he was going nor where. Anyone could see he didn't have long. And who was I to tell him what he might find afterward?

We sat quietly for a few minutes. He said, “Go ahead, have another drink. I'm still working on mine.”

I poured myself another and we toasted again. I drank and he inhaled and we sat a little longer.

“I've got a favor to ask you,” he said.

“Anything.”

“There's a package on the top shelf of that closet. Will you get it for me?”

I got up and brought back the package he had asked for. It was wrapped in brown paper and string. I started to hand it to him, but he shook his head. “Go ahead, open it,” he said.

I did. Inside was another bottle of potassium chloride and a syringe.

I looked at him and he nodded.
“Onegai shimasu,”
he said. Please.

All at once I realized why he had been asking me if Yamaoto would suffer.

I shook my head. “Don't ask me to do that. Tatsu, please.”

“With Yamaoto done, I have nothing to concentrate on to get me past the pain. I can't take it anymore. And I don't want to spend my last days in a morphine haze.”

“Tatsu, I can't.”

“This is killing my family, too. My wife sits with me and I hear her crying when she thinks I'm asleep.”

“What about your grandson? You said…”

“God help me, it's not enough anymore.”

“But you talk to him. I've seen you, whispering to him.”

“Yes. And tonight I said good-bye. And that I would try to watch out for him.”

I looked around, trying to find an argument. I gestured to his chest. “Look, they've got you hooked up to the heart monitor. They'll just rush in here and resuscitate you. I don't…”

“If you're telling me you have no way around something like this, I'm going to be very disappointed.”

I shook my head and didn't speak.

“Is there a way around it? Rain-san, please.”

I closed my eyes and nodded.

He reached over and took my hand in his. “Then do it.”

I waited for a long time, looking into his eyes, hoping I would see his resolve slacken. It didn't.

I got up and went through a few drawers in the room until I found what I was looking for: alcohol and a fresh set of three adhesives. I undid the top two buttons of my shirt, wiped the sweat off my chest, and attached the adhesives. I sat down again and looked at Tatsu. He nodded.

I unclipped the three leads from Tatsu's chest adhesive and attached them to my own. An alarm sounded in the nurses' station.

We sat like that for a moment, very still. I looked up at the monitor and watched the tracings of my own heart. It was beating as fast as it was hard.

The nurse burst in. “Ishikura-san, are you all right?”

Tatsu smiled. “I'm fine.”

My back was to her. She couldn't see the wires snaking into my shirt.

She glanced at the cardiac monitor. “There must have been a glitch in one of the machines. I'll need to check—”

Tatsu said, “It can wait a few minutes, can't it? I'm fine, as you can see. Just send my man in, please.”

She glanced at the machine again. “I—”

“My man, please.”

She nodded and left.

The bodyguard came in a moment later. Tatsu said, “It's late. Why don't you take the rest of the night off?”

The bodyguard said, “Sir, my replacement won't be here for another thirty—”

“It's fine. My friend here will watch over me until then.”

“Sir…”

Tatsu looked at him, and for a moment he seemed his old formidable self. “Don't make me ask you again,” he said.

The bodyguard nodded crisply and walked out.

Tatsu settled back in his bed and groaned. The effort of momentarily projecting that fierce persona had exhausted him.

“All right,” he said, gesturing to the IV line in his arm.

I filled the syringe and pushed the needle into a distal port on the main line. I checked the line for potency and was satisfied with the flow. The tears I'd been fighting welled up in my eyes and spilled over.

“I've always wondered how you go about your work,” he said.

I looked at him. “I don't usually cry while I'm at it.”

He laughed weakly. “I won't tell anyone.”

I kinked the main IV line above the port and closed it with the string from the package. We were ready to go. But still I hesitated.

“Rain-san, what are you waiting for?”

I squeezed his hand hard and looked at him. “You've been a good friend to me,” I said. “Thank you.”

He smiled. “And you to me. There's no one else I could ask. You know that, don't you?”

I nodded, but couldn't speak.

“Take care of your family now,” he said. “There's nothing more important than that. Watch over your boy.”

I nodded again, the tears running harder.

“I've waited a long time to see my son,” he said. “Please, help me go to him now.”

I squeezed his hand harder and shoved down the plunger.

He was looking at me, and then all at once he was looking somewhere beyond me, someplace I couldn't see. Maybe at someone.

The pressure from his hand diminished, and then was gone.

I withdrew the syringe, put it back in the bag, and unkinked the IV line. I closed his eyes and sat with him, holding his hand, feeling empty and miserable and alone.

After a few minutes, I leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “Be with your son,” I said.

I took a deep breath, switched the leads back to his chest, and stood.

The nurse came rushing in a moment later. “Something's wrong,” I said. “I don't think he's breathing.”

She raced around the bed so quickly and started checking on him so intently that she didn't even notice when I walked quietly away.

I
WENT TO
a bar I liked, D-Heartman, on one of the backstreets in Ginza. Heartman is an old but elegant place, all mahogany paneling and low light and bartenders in formal pleated shirts and black bow ties. They take their cocktails seriously and have an excellent selection of single malts, and it was just what I needed at the moment.

I called Dox when I got there and told him where he could find me, if he wanted to.

“How did it go in New York?” he asked.

“It went fine. They're all dead.”

Something in my tone must have told him not to inquire further for now. He said, “You going to call Delilah? She's still here.”

“I don't want to see her. If you want to come, come alone.”

I took the elevator up to the sixth floor and walked inside. The two bartenders bowed when I came in and welcomed me with a low
“Irasshaimase.”
I told them I wanted the window seat, and someone walked me over. Heartman does most of its business after midnight, and for the moment I had the place to myself.

I ordered a sixteen-year-old Lagavulin, straight. I sipped and watched the quiet street below. I focused on the taste, the smell, the feeling in my throat. I tried not to think.

Dox showed up forty-five minutes later. I had just ordered my fourth Lagavulin. My head felt mercifully fuzzy.

He sat down across from me. “Should I order what you're having, or is it that medicine-tasting stuff?”

“Oh, it's medicine,” I said.

He turned to the waiter. “I'll just have a double Stoli on ice. Ah, make that a triple. I think I've got some catching up to do.”

I translated, then said, “I didn't think you'd still be around.”

“Where'd you expect me to go?”

I shrugged. “I don't know. Where you live. Wherever that is.”

“As it happens, I'm transitioning to a place in Bali I know. I like it there. Our little score at Wajima ought to speed things up for me, too. But I thought I'd spend some time in Roppongi first. Plus I was hoping you'd be back and we'd get to see each other.”

The waiter brought our drinks and moved off.

“Cheers,” Dox said.

We touched glasses. Dox leveled off about two-thirds of his vodka and let out a long, contented sigh. He leaned back in his chair and said, “You going to tell me what happened in New York?”

I told him all of it. I felt detached as I recounted things, as though I was listening to someone else talking. Must have been the booze.

When I was done, he said, “Goddamn, man. I'm sorry to hear that. Truly.”

I nodded and drained my glass. Dox did the same and signaled the waiter for two more.

“But you know,” he went on, “they're safe now. And with Yamaoto dead, so are you.”

“Yeah,” I said. “They're safe.”

“What I mean is, give it time. You're that boy's father, and nothing can ever change that. Eventually, Midori's going to come to her senses. She's freaked out now, of course she is, but that's not going to last forever. Blood is a powerful thing, partner.”

I laughed without mirth. “That's funny, she said the same thing.”

The waiter brought us the drinks. He collected our empty glasses and moved on.

Dox took a swallow and said, “I know what's going on with you and Delilah, man.”

I looked at him. “What do you know?”

“That you've gotten your signals crossed one too many times.”

“Is that what you call it? You know what she did? She went to New York to try to scare Midori away. And she's so good at what she does, it worked.”

“I know what she did. She told me. She feels awful about it. She tried to tell you when you were leaving for New York, but she says you wouldn't listen.”

“What is there to talk about? She did what she did.”

“She made a mistake, is what she did. And she knows it.”

“Yeah? Well, fuck her.”

“Pardon me for saying so, partner, but is it possible you're being just a tad ungrateful here?”

I took a swallow of the whiskey and glared at him.

He stared right back. “You know, she flew halfway around the world and risked her life to help you with your problem. She killed one man who was trying to get the drop on you. And she killed two more the moment she realized they would harm your family if they lived.”

“You know why she came out here? She felt guilty over the little op she pulled on Midori behind my back. The one Midori was so freaked out by, it made her set me up to be killed.”

“Who cares why she came? That woman is devoted to you, son, only you're so eager for an excuse to go back to your ‘it's me all alone against the world' bullshit that you won't even admit it.”

I looked at him. “What do you want from me, Dox?”

“I want you not to become the miserable recluse part of you insists on being.”

“You want me to tell you I'm hurt? I feel betrayed? Well, I won't. I don't need your shoulder to cry on.”

“Yes you do, partner. You need someone's.”

“You're wrong.”

“I see what you're doing. You got hurt 'cause you trusted. And now you're telling yourself, ‘See? I was right not to trust, this is what happens when you trust. Well, I'll just never trust again, that's what I'll do.'”

“Are you coming up with this shit yourself, or have you been talking to Delilah?”

“She sees it, too. But that doesn't mean much. You're so damn obvious.”

“You know, the two of you understand each other so well, why don't you just take her. You've been spending enough time with her, from the sound of it.”

“Oh, this is the part where you make the outrageous accusations to insult your friend so he leaves and spares you the burden of having to admit that you're the asshole who pushed him away.”

I put my elbows on the table and rested my face in my hands.

“It ain't like that between Delilah and me,” he said, “and you know it. But it is like that between the two of you. And if you walk away from that now, you are the biggest fool I've ever known.”

I looked at him. “She sent you here to plead her case, is that it?”

“No, dumbass, you told me not to invite her, remember? She doesn't even know you're back in Tokyo, and she's worried about you, too. I'll call her and tell her, otherwise I'll be complicit in your childish nonsense. But if you were smart you'd call her first.”

I finished my whiskey and stood up. “Do whatever you want,” I said, throwing some bills on the table. “I just came back to pick up my money.”