The Last Assassin

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