The Last Assassin (6 page)

What it was between us?
I thought.
You killed her father.

Jesus. What the hell was I thinking? I was never going to be able to take her here, here or anywhere else. This was crazy, it was never going to work.

I wanted to get out, get the next plane to anywhere and forget that Midori lived here, forget everything. What I had with Delilah was good. I was an idiot for doing anything to risk it.

But I had to see the child. I had to know.

The problem was, it wasn't just Delilah I was risking. It was much more than that, and I knew it.

But I couldn't think of the stakes now. I couldn't fully face them.

I
CALLED DOX
Monday evening as we had discussed. He had already arrived and checked in at 60 Thompson in SoHo, and at his suggestion we met at a place called The Ear Inn, on Spring between Washington and Greenwich. It was about a half-hour walk from the Ritz and the weather was cold and crisp, so I strolled north along the river, then cut east to the restaurant. I went inside and liked what I saw: a dark, unpretentious room of wood and brick with a palpable sense of history. There was a long bar and a dozen wooden tables scattered throughout.

I looked around and there was Dox, big as a linebacker and still as the Buddha, sitting at a corner table with a view of the entrance. When he saw me, he got up, strode over, and gave me one of his bear hugs. Other than the momentary inability to breathe it induced, it felt good, I had to admit, and I found myself hugging him awkwardly back.

“Good to see you, man,” he said, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “And in the Big Apple, of all places.”

I scanned the room and saw an odd but somehow natural mix of what I classified as teamsters and hipsters. No one was posturing, no one was using a cell phone, no one was paying us any attention. People were just enjoying themselves. No one set off my radar.

“It's good to see you, too,” I told him. “No goatee today?”

He grinned and rubbed his chin. “You heard Delilah, partner. When she told me in Hong Kong I had good bones, my facial hair was gone forever.”

I laughed. We walked back to his table so we could watch the room and talk more privately.

“You just fly in today?” I asked.

“Nah, I drove in. Been away a lot and wanted to spend a few days seeing the country go by. Plus there's so much security in airports these days. I hate to choose between death by paperwork on the one hand and disarmament on the other just to travel a little, you know what I mean?”

“You mean they wouldn't let you bring a rifle on the plane with you? There's no justice, Dox.”

He laughed. “Well, there's always a work-around. Got my trusty M40A1 in the trunk, just in case. Like they say in the ads, don't leave home without it.”

We ordered burgers and Guinness stouts. While we ate, I briefed him on everything: Midori, and my role in her father's death; my last night with her in Tokyo; Tatsu's revelation about the baby; what was going on with Delilah. Everything.

“Damn, man, my first impulse is to congratulate you,” he said, when I was done. “But you seem so ambivalent I don't know what to say.”

“How would you react?”

“Well, that's a fair question. I've had a few scares along the way, but they all seemed to resolve themselves before I really had a chance to panic.”

“So you were on the verge of panic at the prospect, and you're giving me a hard time for being ambivalent at the reality?”

He smiled. “Not a hard time. Just trying to be sensitive to what you're going through. Underneath this rugged exterior I'm actually a caring and compassionate man.”

“I don't know what I'm going through.”

“Well, what do you want to do?”

“I need to see her. And the baby. But with Yamaoto's people watching her…it's complicated.”

“What's with you and this Yamaoto again?”

“He's a politician with his fingers in everything in Japan—construction kickbacks, bribery, prostitution, narcotics, extortion, you name it. Close ties to the yakuza. In fact, he
is
yakuza. They take orders from him, not the other way around. The politics is just a hobby he can use to indulge his right-wing convictions and convince himself that all the crime is really for a noble purpose.”

He scratched his head. “And you met Midori through him?”

“Sort of. He was the one who hired me to take out her father, although at the time I didn't even know I was on his payroll. I met Midori by a coincidence after that, and when I learned Yamaoto was gunning for her, too, I stopped him. Midori and I…for a while we were on the run together. It was…I don't know, it was just one of those crazy things that happen.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I've had a few of those.”

“Anyway, apparently Yamaoto is still unhappy about the damage I did to him when we locked horns. It's become a grudge.”

“He's in Japan but he's got people here?”

“He's getting help from the triads. The Chinese mob has a bigger presence in New York than the yakuza.”

“Haven't those triad boys been moving into Japan, too?”

“Yeah. There's a long-running struggle in Tokyo between the yakuza and the triads there. They both want the drug and prostitution trades for themselves. Yamaoto must be ceding something to the triads in Tokyo in return for their watching Midori in New York.”

“All right, I get it. And you want me to help you identify the surveillance so you can circumvent it.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, hell, this isn't even much of a favor. When you first called, I figured it was because you wanted to send someone on a Valhalla vacation.”

“If that's all it were, I could take care of it myself.”

“Yeah, I expect you could.” He took a swallow of beer. “You know, the surveillance doesn't really bother me. I reckon we can spot the gaps easily enough and slip you through one of them.”

“Okay, good.”

“But, have you thought about…you know.”

“No, what?”

He finished his beer and signaled the waitress to bring us a couple more. “I mean, she knows you killed her old man. I expect that's a hard thing for a person to get over. It sure would be for me.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do? Just pretend I don't know there's a child?”

“No, I guess you can't do that, either. It's a complicated situation, I'll give you that.”

The waitress brought our beers and moved off.

“They've been watching her since when?” Dox asked.

“Since they learned about the baby. About a year. That's what convinced them I'd come back to her.”

He looked at me, half amused, half concerned. “Well, looks like they might have been on to something there.”

I shrugged.

“You thought about calling her first?” he asked. “Or sending an e-mail?”

I shook my head. “I don't think it's a good idea.”

“You worried they're monitoring her electronically?”

“No, Tatsu told me they're not. But I don't know how she'll react to hearing from me. It's better if I do it in person.”

He nodded and drained a third from the mug. “Well, she's a jazz pianist, right? Her schedule's public. If you wanted to get to her, that's where you'd most likely start.”

“Right. So we can expect surveillance at her performances. But the photos Tatsu acquired weren't taken at a performance. She was at an outdoor café somewhere, with the baby. Daytime.”

“If it was daytime, my guess is they followed her from where she lives.”

“Agreed.”

“You know, sending a foot soldier to take in a public jazz performance from time to time is one thing. But if they're giving Yamaoto enough local man power to watch Midori's apartment, too, that's a pretty big favor he must be doing them in return.”

“Told you he's got a grudge.”

“I swear, man, you've got an uncanny knack for getting people pissed at you. You ever considered charm school?”

“Yeah, it's on my to-do list.”

He paused as though considering. “One thing we might not have thought of. Has her building got a doorman? Those boys aren't paid the best wages in the world, and…”

“Yeah, I've thought about that, too. There is a doorman, and it's possible someone got to him. But I think the odds of that are low. If Yamaoto had the doorman in his employ, why would he need to bother with the Chinese? We know they're costing him more than a bribed doorman.”

He nodded. “Well, what does all this mean for you and Delilah?”

I hesitated. “I don't know.”

“Guess you couldn't ask for her help on this one, under the circumstances.”

“Very funny.”

“If she dumps you for me, you won't be bitter, will you? She's bound to get tired of your Hamlet routine, and I can tell she's secretly in love with me.”

I looked at him, but he didn't flinch. Dox always liked to push things.

“I'll find a way to adjust,” I said.

He laughed. “All right, I'll remember you said that. Now, what's the plan?”

“We start with the public performances. They're the easiest approach. It's where they'll be expecting me, so we'll know to expect them.”

“And who are we looking for, exactly?”

“My guess would be a lone Chinese man, age eighteen to thirty. At any given performance, you'll find only a relatively small percentage of Asians. Among them, a smaller percentage of males in the right age range. Among those, if you see a guy by himself, he's the one we want.”

“What about you?”

“I'm the one they're looking for, so I can't go in. But you can. We'll get you an escort from one of the services so you'll have a date and won't stand out.”

He grinned. “I'm liking the sound of this more and more.”

“I'll wait outside. If we see our man, we'll follow him after the performance to learn more about who we're dealing with and what kind of coverage they're employing. We'll get you a digital camera, something that works well in low light. If you can take his picture, we can send it to Tatsu. He might be able to match it to something in a database.”

“He'll be able to recognize a lowly foot soldier?”

I shrugged. “What Tatsu doesn't know, he always knows where to ask.”

“What about commo?”

“I don't have the gear we were using in Hong Kong, but we ought to be able to manage with cell phones and wireless earpieces. Here.” I pulled out one set of the equipment I had picked up and slid it across the table to him. “That's a prepaid unit. Sterile, for now. I've got one like it. Just to be on the safe side, let's stay off your personal phone.”

“Yeah, I've learned my lesson there. Still, I'll have to insist on one thing.”

“What?”

“I get to choose the escort.”

“Absolutely. But I think she ought to be female this time. It'll be lower profile.”

We both laughed, remembering Dox's accidental come-on to a
katoey,
or lady-boy, in Bangkok. I planned to harass him about it as long as there was breath in my lungs.

“Yeah, poor Tiara,” he said. “I reckon she's pining for me still. She was a near miss. ‘Near miss,' you get it?”

I closed my eyes as though in pain and nodded. “I get it,” I said.

He chuckled. “All right, where's the first performance?”

“Zinc Bar. Just a few blocks from here. She's there four nights in a row starting tomorrow, two sets every night. I've already checked the place out and it'll work for us. We'll show up for the second set tomorrow, at midnight. I want to see what happens when she's done for the evening.”

“Sounds good.”

“Make sure you spend time learning the area first. The streets, the alleys, everything.”

“Yes, Mom.”

I looked at him, but there was just no arguing with that irrepressible grin.

We spent another hour going over the plan. When we were done, Dox went off to find an escort, and I went back to the hotel, alone.

A
T MIDNIGHT THE FOLLOWING
evening, I sat in a second-floor window seat at a place called Pegu Club, a bar at the corner of Houston and Wooster, kitty-corner to Zinc. I nursed the eponymous cocktail, an admittedly tasty gin-based infusion, snacked on some of their light fare, and read a copy of
The Economist
so I wouldn't look like a guy on a stakeout.

At twelve-thirty, I saw Dox emerge from the stairway. He had the Nokia out. Mine vibrated a moment later. I was already wearing the earpiece and pressed the receive button after the first buzz.

“Yeah,” I said.

“He's here,” he said. “Just like you thought. Chinese guy, maybe twenty or so, hundred forty, hundred and fifty pounds. All by himself, hardly drinking, just watching the stage. Hard-looking kid. Hasn't tapped his foot once since the music started.”

I could hear the band playing from inside. The piano especially. I tried not to think about it.

“Just the one?” I asked.

“Yeah. He's alone.”

“You get his picture?”

“Three or four of them. This little Panasonic you picked up works nicely in the dark.”

“Has he noticed you?”

“I'm in stealth mode, partner, he doesn't even know I'm here. Plus I'm accompanied by the lovely and charming Miss Jasmine, who I met via the Internet earlier today.”

“All right, go back inside,” I said. “Be ready to follow him out when he leaves. I want to see where he's going, whether he stays with Midori, whether there's a handoff to anyone else.”

“Roger that.” He closed the cell phone, nodded subtly in my direction, and went back inside.

Forty-five minutes later, I saw patrons leaving Zinc and realized the set was over. My phone buzzed.

“Yeah.”

“Here he comes,” Dox said. His normally booming voice was coming through just loud enough for me to hear but not, presumably, for Miss Jasmine or anyone else. “You should see him on the stairs right now.”

“Midori's still in there?”

“Still in here, talking to a few people. Nice-looking woman, if you don't mind my saying. I love that long black Asian hair. And a hell of a piano player.”

The Chinese kid came out, walked a few yards west on Houston, and stopped to light a cigarette.

“I see him,” I said. “Looks like he's going to enjoy a little tobacco break.”

“Someone ought to tell him that stuff'll kill you.”

Sure enough, the Chinese kid leaned back against the building behind him and stood there, smoking. I smiled. It seemed to me that the primary beneficiary of Mayor Bloomberg's indoor smoking ban, aside from the hearts and lungs of all New Yorkers, was anyone running foot surveillance and needing an excuse to hang around outside a restaurant.

“Yeah, he's not leaving,” I said. “And as long as Midori's still in there, I don't think he's going anywhere. Stay put and let me know when she's coming out.”

“Roger that.”

I closed the phone and watched for a few minutes more. If someone else were going to pick up Midori from here, this would be the time for the Chinese kid to make a call. But he didn't take out a phone. I didn't know what Yamaoto was paying the triad for the surveillance, but it looked like he was only getting solo coverage for his money. Well, that suited me.

I paid the bill, walked downstairs, and headed out of the bar. From street level I didn't have as clear a view of Zinc, so I crossed to the north side of Houston and started strolling west. I called Dox.

“How're we doing?” I asked.

“Looks like she's getting ready to go. Saying good night to the proprietor right now.”

I passed a group of people smoking outside a bar and paused nearby, just someone polite enough to leave the bar for a cell phone call.

“Here she comes,” Dox said.

I swallowed and watched Zinc's entrance. A moment later, Midori emerged from the stairwell. She paused at the curb and looked my way. I felt my heart accelerate. But she wasn't scanning the sidewalk; she was watching the street, looking for a cab. And anyway I was keeping the smokers between us. She wouldn't have seen me.

She was wearing a waist-length black leather jacket. Her hair was as long and luxuriant as Dox had noted and as I remembered. I wished I could have been closer. I wanted to see more.

I couldn't help frowning at her innocence, though. She hadn't even looked both ways as she came out of the club, let alone checked the surveillance hot spots. If she had, she would have made the Chinese kid in a heartbeat. He was standing exactly where you'd expect.

She flagged down a cab and got in. The kid made no attempt to follow. He remained for a minute, finished his cigarette, then started heading toward my position. I went into the bar and watched from behind the glass door as he passed. It was darker inside the bar than it was on the streetlight-illuminated sidewalk without, and with the light reflecting on the glass outside I knew he wouldn't be able to see me even if he were to look. But I got a good look at him.

When he was safely past, I slipped out of the bar and fell in behind him. I knew Dox would be trailing me, per the plan.

I hung well back in case the kid turned, but he never did. He just continued southeast into Chinatown. I watched him go into a seedy-looking noodle place on Mulberry, across from Columbus Park. I crossed the street and walked past from the park side. I saw him sit at a table across from an older, heavyset Chinese man with a bald head and a boxer's nose.

I couldn't hear what the kid and the bald guy were saying, and even if I could it was probably in Chinese. But from their postures I sensed they didn't much care for each other. The kid sat slumped in his chair almost sullenly. At one point, he must have said something disrespectful, because the bald guy stood up and cuffed the kid across the head, twice. The shots didn't look too hard—more something intended to humiliate and establish dominance. After that the kid sat up straighter and the bald guy sat back down.

Dox walked past the restaurant, and I knew he was taking more pictures. The flash was off and they'd be grainy, but Tatsu had people who could enhance them. Dox returned to his position behind me and we watched for a few minutes more, but there wasn't much else to learn. I noted the name and address of the place, then we linked up outside the park and headed over to a twenty-four-hour diner, where we compared notes and planned the next night.

When we were done, Dox said, “Assuming that's all for the night, I'd like to go back to the diner where I left the alluring Miss Jasmine. She's hot for me, I can tell.”

“Plus her meter is running,” I suggested.

He laughed. “Yeah, and she's got the kind of meter I like to feed. See you tomorrow, amigo.”

While Dox was off getting my money's worth, I went to an Internet café to upload the photos and other information to Tatsu.

When the message and upload were done, I called Tatsu to give him a heads-up to check our bulletin board. He didn't sound good when I spoke to him. His normally quiet but assured voice was raspy and he sounded like he was making an effort to talk. When I asked, he told me it was the flu.

Yeah, we were both getting older. I wanted to be done with this soon.