The Last Assassin

fast learning…'
    The woman laughed again. ''You'll have to, and some Japanese, too. But first things first. Mr Kuro is the person you need to speak with, and he's not here tonight. But he will be tomorrow. Can you come back then?'
    Because it was consistent with her role, Delilah permitted herself a moment of satisfaction. 'Come back tomorrow?' she asked.
    'Yes.'
    'Yes. What time?'
    'The same time as now. I don't know when he'll be free, and you might have to wait for a while.'
    'I can wait.'
    'Good. And what is your name?'
    'I am called Laure.'
    'Well, Laure, it's very good to meet you. You can call me Kyoko.'
    'Enchantée,'
Delilah said, shaking the woman's hand. Then she added, 'Would it be all right to… may I see? The club?'
    Kyoko smiled and looked her over again. 'I don't see any problem with that. You'll certainly look right at home.'
    She took Delilah by the arm and escorted her through the swinging doors. Delilah noted that they swung in both directions, no knobs, no locks.
    The room beyond was a large rectangle built on three levels. At the lowest level, in the center, was a freestanding bar. One step up, surrounding the bar and facing it, were four long rows of built-in leather-covered benches. The backs of the benches rose to the floor of the room's third level, where Delilah now stood. A dozen men in suits and twice that number of drop-dead women in equally drop-dead clothes were seated along the rows around the bar, and the techno music Delilah heard earlier now mingled with the sounds of laughter and conversation. Several of the men looked up at Delilah, and she realized this was part of the purpose of the layout, to let the club's members leisurely appraise its hostesses. In fact, she noticed that the lighting, too, was designed for the pleasure of the patrons: the seating areas were illuminated only indirectly, and were therefore private, while this level, which was open to foot traffic, was lit by a series of elegant hanging lights.
    Along the wall opposite the doors they had just come through were a half dozen booths. These, too, were softly lit and had the feel of alcoves. A few of them were occupied, again by prosperous-looking men and gorgeous women of various ethnicities. Several Japanese women, attractive in their own right but less fabulously attired than the hostesses, moved about the room, bringing snacks, freshening drinks, and otherwise ensuring that the members were well provided for.
    At one end of the booths was a door. Over it, a lighted green sign signifying that this was one of the two emergency exits. She would have liked a closer look, but sensed that would be overstaying her welcome.
    'It's beautiful,' Delilah said.
    Kyoko looked at her. 'You think you would like it here?'
    Delilah nodded.
'Certainement.
I'm sure I would.'
    Kyoko smiled and walked her back to the foyer. They stopped outside the front doors.
    'Then we'll see you at the same time tomorrow night?' Kyoko asked.
    Delilah nodded. 'Yes. And thank you.'
    Kyoko bowed in acknowledgment and went back to her office.
    Delilah turned to the women behind the island. 'Ah… the ladies' room?' she said.
    One of the women gestured to the stairs. Delilah thanked her, noting that, from their position behind the island, the women wouldn't be able to see the restroom doors or that of the utility room. She headed down, opening her purse, taking out an innocent-looking leather key case, and detaching the head from one of the keys on the way. Inside the body of the key, attached to the head, was a lock rake. She palmed the rake, dropped the keys back in her purse, and took out an exceptionally thin steel nail file that always doubled nicely as a torsion wrench.
    When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Rain's detector buzzed. She looked up and saw a ceiling camera aimed at the emergency door, presumably to catch an intruder trying to come in the back way. She wondered why the club hadn't invested a trivial amount more for an additional camera covering the interior, then realized it was probably out of deference to the patrons' privacy concerns. It didn't really matter. With the electricity cut and the lights out, the camera would be irrelevant.
    She hadn't seen anyone heading toward the restrooms in the last few minutes, and suspected they were empty now. Still, best to check. The men's room first, an embarrassed apology ready in case she had erred. But it was unoccupied, the three stall doors all slightly ajar. Likewise the