The Last Assassin

hell, the woman had proven it. What had it been—forty-eight hours since Rain had shown up in Midori’s life? And already his world was trailing after him like some foul wake.
    And why would the woman have told her that she knew about her father? To get me to react exactly like this, Midori thought.
    But that realization didn’t change the fundamental fact that Rain had discussed the most intimate secret Midori could imagine, discussed it as though it was just some common problem he’d had with a woman from his past.
    She hunched forward, her eyes squeezed shut, fistfuls of hair balled in her hands. She’d actually been hoping. She had. She realized that now.
    Maybe she was jumping to conclusions. Maybe Rain didn’t tell the woman. Maybe she found out some other way.
    But that didn’t matter. It didn’t even matter what the woman wanted. What mattered was that she had been telling the truth. Rain was a danger. And he always would be.
    She wanted him out of her life. Hers and Koichiro’s. Forever.

16
    T HE NEXT MORNING , I used the Watanabe identity to rent a van at a place in Shinjuku. After that, I shopped for some supplemental items: warm, dark clothing; waterproof boots; two-way radios in case cell phone coverage was lacking by the Sea of Japan. I spent the balance of the day sleeping. Not an ideal way to adjust to the local time zone, but I needed the rest and Dox and I were going to be working at night, anyway. I woke up just as the sun was setting, and after the proper procedures to ensure I was alone, I went out to a pay phone to call Kanezaki.
    “Hai,” he said, after the customary single ring.
    “You get what I asked for?”
    “It’s all right here. Oplus-XT Gauged C0 2 rifle with AN/PVS-17 Mini night-vision scope, two SOCOM HK Mark 23s each with Trijicon night sights, AN/PEQ-6 infrared laser aiming module, Knight’s Armament suppressor, spare mag, one hundred rounds of Federal Hydra-Shok, and Wilcox tactical thigh holster, two pairs of AN/PVS-7 night-vision goggles, Agency-designed GPS transmitter with magnetic mounts for surreptitious emplacement and accompanying monitor with mapping software. The only thing I couldn’t do was the ten darts. Turns out we only had five on hand.”
    “Shit,” I said, and started running through the plan to see how we could adjust.
    “You were lucky we even had the rifle and the five darts. This kind of stuff is used mostly for rendering bad guys in Europe and the Middle East. The only reason we had any of it is because someone in the embassy must have realized there was some counterterror money left over in the budget and wanted to use it up.”
    “What’s in the darts?”
    “Some commercial variation of liquid succinylcholine chloride. There’s a small explosive charge that injects the drug on impact, so pulling the dart out won’t help. Very fast-acting, depending on where you place the shot. The neck is best.”
    “Is weight a factor?”
    “No. These things are rated for anything up to a rhinoceros.”
    “All right, five will have to do it.”
    “This is some expensive equipment, you know. I’m going to be in major shit if any of it goes missing.”
    “I can tell you you’re not getting the darts back.”
    “I’m not talking about the darts. Or the ammo.”
    “Where do I pick it up?”
    “Wherever you want,” he said, knowing I’d be more comfortable choosing the place.
    I considered. I knew I was clean at the moment and didn’t need time to run a route. And I didn’t want to give Kanezaki time to set anything up. Not that he would—especially if he assumed I was on the hook now for a “favor”—but it always pays to be careful.
    “JR Harajuku Station platform,” I said. “Thirty minutes from now.”
    “Okay.”
    Twenty minutes later, I stepped off the Yamanote onto the platform at Harajuku. Nothing pinged my radar. Crowds were moderate, and divided more or less equally between teenagers heading to nearby Takeshitadori, the grunge/retro/hip-hop shopping strip, and smartly dressed adults heading to the bistros and boutiques of adjacent Omotesando-dori. That the two disparate groups and places existed side by side in parallel dimensions would never cease to please me. It was part of what made Tokyo tick.
    Kanezaki arrived on time, stepping off a Shinjukubound train with a medium-sized blue duffel slung over his shoulder. He was wearing a dark suit and, but for something detectably western in his posture and gait, could have