The Key to Midnight

trying to read his round, smiling, inscrutable face. 'I don't believe it. You're making this up so I'll be afraid to send her to Rotenhausen. Then my only choice would be to let you take her home. Forget it.'
        'I'm being honest with you, Tom. Rotenhausen says her chances of coming through a second time are poor, less than fifty-fifty.'
        'You're lying. But even if you were telling the truth, I'd rather send her to Rotenhausen. I refuse to have her taken to Russia. I'd rather see her dead.'
        'You might,' said Peterson.
        Rain was falling with such force and in such tremendous quantity that the driver had to pull off the road. Visibility was no more than twenty to thirty feet. They parked in a roadside rest area, near trash barrels and picnic tables.
        Peterson slipped another butter-rum circlet between his pursed lips, scrubbed his fingers with his handkerchief, and made a small wordless sound of delight as the candy began to melt on his tongue.
        The roar of the rain was so loud that Chelgrin raised his voice. 'Moving her secretly from Jamaica to Switzerland was a nightmare.'
        'I remember it all too well.'
        'How will you get her out of Japan, all the way to Rotenhausen?'
        'She's making it easy for us. She and Hunter are going to England to look into the British-Continental Insurance scam.'
        'When?'
        'The day after tomorrow. We've got a scenario planned for them. We'll drop clues they can't miss, steer them away from London and straight to Switzerland. We'll put them on to Rotenhausen, and when they go after him, we'll let the trap fall shut.'
        'You sound so confident.'
        'By Friday or Saturday, Hunter will be dead, and your lovely daughter will be back in Rotenhausen's clinic.'

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    43
        
        Wednesday afternoon, when the time came for Joanna to leave the Moonglow with Alex and take a taxi to the train depot, she didn't want to leave. Each step out of the second-floor apartment, down the narrow stairs, and across the lounge was difficult. She seemed to be walking through deep water. She stopped several times on one pretense or another - a forgotten passport; a last-minute decision to wear a different pair of traveling shoes; a sudden desire to say good-bye to the head chef, who was even then preparing the sauces and soups for that evening's customers -but eventually Alex insisted that she hurry lest they miss their train.
        Her delaying tactics resulted not from worry about what would happen to the business in her absence. She trusted Mariko to manage the club efficiently and profitably.
        Instead, her reluctance to depart was the result of a surprising homesickness that seized her even before she left home. She had come to this country under queer circumstances, a stranger in a strange land, and she had prospered. She loved Japan and Kyoto and the Gion district and the Moonglow Lounge. She loved the musical quality of the language, the extravagant politeness of the people, the merry ringing of finger bells at worship services, the beauty of the temple dancers, the scattered ancient structures that had survived both war and the encroachment of Western-style architecture. She loved the taste of sake and tempura, the delicious fragrance of hot brown kamo yorshino-ni. She felt a part of this ancient yet ever blossoming culture. This was her world now, the only place to which she had ever truly belonged, and she dreaded leaving it even temporarily.
        Nevertheless, she was determined not to let Alex go to England alone.
        While Alex went outside to be sure the taxi waited, Joanna and Mariko stood just inside the front door, hugging one last time.
        'I’ll miss you, Mariko-san.'
        'I'm scared for you,' Mariko said.
        'I have Alex. But you're at risk too. Someone may decide that you know too much.'
        'Me and Uncle Omi and my whole family know too much. Too many of us know too much. There's safety in numbers. Besides, we don't actually have proof of anything. Just your fingerprints - and you're taking those with you. I think these people are less of a danger to me than old Godzilla.'
        'I just realized - we'll be staying overnight in Tokyo. His favorite stomping grounds.'
        'I don't know why they keep rebuilding the city when they know he's just going to come back and knock it down again.'
        Joanna smiled. 'Maybe they figure one day