The Last Assassin

for fixing things and a good partner to help you. So snap out of this misery or I swear I'll kick your ass right here in this restaurant.'
    'All right,' I said, giving him a wan smile. 'I'll think about what you said.'
    He laughed again. 'You mean you'll try to find reasons to reject it. And you might find a few. But they won't last you. Because what I'm telling you is the truth.'

13

    I left for Tokyo from JFK in the morning. I would have preferred an indirect route, but we didn't have a lot of time. For security, Dox was traveling separately, and we would link up again at Narita.
    Before going through security, I found a restroom at the end of the departures area. It was more distant from the check-in lines and from security screening than any of the others I had passed and, I hoped, would therefore be frequented by fewer travelers. I used a length of duct tape to secure the Strider to the underside of one of the toilets. I figured there was at least a fifty-percent chance it would be found by a cleaning crew, but if I got lucky, it would be waiting when I got back after finishing my business with Yamaoto, and I would be saved the hassle of having to get a new one.
    I arrived at Narita late in the afternoon of the following day. After taking steps to verify the absence of a local welcoming committee, I found Dox and we caught a Narita Express train to Tokyo Station. The big man seemed perfectly at ease in the Asian surroundings, and I remembered how much time he had spent in the region. As for me, my feelings were, as always, mixed at being back here. For a long time, Tokyo had been the closest thing I had to a place I might call home. But it's not as though I ever belonged here, either, or ever really would.
    While Dox roamed the mazelike station, I stopped at the local Vodafone shop so Mr Watanabe could buy another pair of prepaid cell phones. I would have preferred not to put the additional stress on the Watanabe identity, but the mini-bazaars for black market phones that were running out of Shin-Okubo and Ueno when I lived in Tokyo had been cleaned up, and I didn't have time to go searching for wherever they might have been reconstituted. Anyway, the connection between Cingular in the States and Vodafone in Japan seemed manageably remote. I would have asked Dox to buy the phones, but I was determined to do everything I could, to obscure his involvement.
    When the phones were taken care of, I called Midori. She didn't pick up, but I left her a voice mail giving her the new mobile number. Even if she didn't need to reach me, or want to, I wanted to show her I could be there for her, and for Koichiro, even if only by phone. I didn't want her to think I was going to just disappear like a ghost, the way I had when she'd first left Tokyo.
    We headed out. I wanted to see Tatsu right away, so Dox, who had spent enough time in Tokyo to know his way around, went to outfit himself with his customary personal cutlery while I headed to Jikei hospital. I caught the Yamanote line train to Shinbashi Station and walked the short distance from there. It was a cool but clear evening, and it felt good to be outside after the long trip from New York.
    I circled the hospital, checking the hot spots, and used a side entrance to go in. On my own I felt secure, but Tatsu was a known nexus of mine, with plenty of his own enemies, and in going to see him I might be walking into an ambush. Nothing set off my radar. I went to the information desk in the bustling reception area and told one of the women sitting there that I wanted to see Ishikura Tatsuhiko, a patient. The woman checked the computer and told me that Ishikura-san was in the hospital's Oncology Clinic.
    The sounds around me faded out. A wave of cold stole across my face and neck and spread through my gut. The woman gave me directions but I just stared at her, not hearing. I asked her to repeat herself but then after I walked away I realized I couldn't remember most of what she had said. I followed signs, feeling lost in the winding, fluorescent-lit corridors.
    I found the ward, but couldn't recall the room number the receptionist had told me. I asked a nurse and she escorted me down the hall. Outside one of the doors stood an athletic-looking crew-cut Japanese man in a gray suit. There was a bulge under his jacket and a communication device in one of his cauliflower ears. He looked at me as I approached and I made sure to let him see my hands.
    We stopped outside the door.