The Last Assassin

Liu’s English wasn’t good but it was their only common language.
    There was a pause. Then Big Liu said, “We have big problem. Fucking big.”
    “I know. I just received a phone call from one of my men.”
    “This…very bad.”
    “Yes. We’re looking for the missing men right now. We will do everything we can to find them.” Not my missing men. The missing men. Better to imply some distance. The subtlety might be lost on Big Liu, but it couldn’t hurt, either.
    “You find missing men,” Big Liu said, “you give to me. And you pay missing money. And you pay interest for dead men. Then I think, ‘Okay, this was bad men problem. Not Yamaoto problem. Yamaoto and Big Liu, still friend.’”
    Yamaoto understood the implication without Big Liu having to spell it out: Protect your men, and I will hold you responsible for what they did.
    And that would mean only one thing: war.
    Yamaoto thought for a moment. If he pushed back too hard, things could easily spiral out of control. If he gave in too easily, Big Liu would ask for more. The trick was to find the right middle ground, something that would satisfy Big Liu without seeming weak, something that would preserve Yamaoto’s room to maneuver depending on what happened next.
    “I understand your concerns,” Yamaoto said slowly, “as I’m sure you understand mine. I know that neither of us is the kind of man to give in to immediate suspicions or otherwise leap to conclusions. We don’t want things to get out of control.”
    He paused to let Big Liu internally translate the words into Chinese, then said, “I think the main thing now is to find the missing men. I’d like to keep you informed of that effort. Would it be all right if I called you several times a day, just to make sure you know what’s going on?”
    Under the circumstances, the two of them would have to be stupid not to talk frequently. This sort of polite conversation was an effort for both of them, Yamaoto knew, but they were going to need a good deal more of it if they hoped to prevent suspicion and anger from festering. But by phrasing the thought the way he had, Yamaoto had made it seem that he was both offering a concession and requesting permission. There was no nourishment in any of it, but Big Liu might like the taste enough to bite.
    Big Liu said, “Can give only forty-eight hours for this. Not because distrust Yamaoto. Because…very angry men in Big Liu group. Men now saying, ‘Blood! Revenge!’ Can’t control angry men so long.”
    It was more or less what Yamaoto had been expecting, although he’d been hoping for longer. The “it’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s my constituents” approach was something Yamaoto himself used all the time. And in this case, in all likelihood, there was a lot of truth to it. Yamaoto had to find Kito and Sanada before things got worse.
    “I understand,” he said. “I’ll call you later today with an update.”
    “You find missing men,” Big Liu said, “you no kill. Give alive. Want to…talk with them.”
    This gambit wasn’t unexpected, either. Yamaoto expected Big Liu to push until he encountered resistance. Now was the time to offer it.
    “I can’t promise that,” Yamaoto said. “First, because anything could happen when I find them. And second, because I’m already going to have problems from my people just for doing what needs to be done. If Big Liu asks for too much, my people will become angry, even though I will tell them not to be.”
    There was a pause while Big Liu absorbed Yamaoto’s own version of the “constituency” defense. Like Liu’s from a moment earlier, it had the benefit of being largely true. If Yamaoto offered up two of his men to be tortured to death by the Chinese, he would face rebellion, no matter what the cause.
    “Okay,” Big Liu said. “You handle men. Call soon.”
    “Yes,” Yamaoto said, and hung up.
    He paused for a moment and thought. Could Big Liu have staged this? If so, he would get to keep the drugs and take the money…
    But almost as soon as he considered the possibility, he rejected it. The gain wouldn’t have been worth the loss of Yamaoto as a buyer, and Big Liu had worked hard to win Yamaoto’s business. On top of that, Big Liu had lost three men. That in itself was a considerable expense.
    He called Kuro. The man answered promptly.
    “Hai.”
    “Do the Chinese have people in Tokyo who would recognize Kito and Sanada?” Yamaoto asked.
    “Yes, sir, there are