The Last Assassin

told me, they’re not exactly inconspicuous men.”
    He stopped, and I could tell the talking was tiring him out. He pulled an oxygen cannula up from his chest and adjusted it under his nose. “I hate this fucking thing,” he grumbled.
    I helped him with the oxygen. “So everything we’re trying to get going here,” I said, “Yamaoto could bring it to a halt if he gets to the sumos.”
    He looked at me, but said nothing. I knew what he was doing. He wanted it to come from me, so I would feel that I wasn’t being manipulated, that I was making my own decisions. Which is, of course, the most artful manipulation of all.
    But none of that changed the basic facts. “Of course, if the yakuza were to come under attack in the meantime…” I said.
    Tatsu nodded. “Yamaoto would look foolish and weak. He would have no choice but to hit back. Positions on both sides would harden after that.”
    “What if he suspected he was being set up, though?”
    “He probably already does. But what can he do? As things get worse, there will be a few cool heads on both sides, certainly. There always are. But cool heads rarely prevail in the midst of ongoing bloodshed. Especially when the bloodshed is accompanied by the kind of nationalistic antagonism that has lately worsened in China and Japan. Think of it. Chinese upstarts, killing yakuza with impunity on the yakuza’s own turf? It would be intolerable to Yamaoto’s rank and file. After that, the reaction will no longer require a catalyst. It will have taken on a life of its own. Yamaoto won’t be able to stop it.”
    “All right. But how does this get me to him ?”
    “If you start taking out Yamaoto’s lieutenants, you will force him to assume greater day-to-day control over his operations. This would bring him into the open.”
    “Won’t he just appoint new lieutenants?”
    Tatsu gave me his trademark look of long-suffering patience in the face of impossibly slow minds. “This isn’t General Electric, Rain-san. Men like Yamaoto don’t have strong succession plans. They’re afraid it would make it more likely that someone would succeed them.”
    “But eventually…”
    “Yes, eventually Yamaoto would fill the positions, but in the midst of a war with the Chinese he would have to do things himself. And if Yamaoto were to die during the course of that war, who’s to say who actually killed him? Perhaps the Chinese. Perhaps disaffected or grasping elements of Yamaoto’s own organization. There would be suspicion all around, but none of it directed at you. United Bamboo would have no reason to link the deaths of the two Chinese in New York with Yamaoto’s death in Japan. Neither would anyone else. This could be your last job. You’d be free afterward.”
    I thought for a moment. “If it really does look like a war is starting, wouldn’t that make Yamaoto more careful? If we drive him underground, the situation gets harder for us, not easier.”
    “If Yamaoto goes underground in the face of Chinese provocations, he’ll risk being overthrown from within. Beyond that, someone has to manage his operations if they become disrupted. There are too many players who would like to take over for themselves.”
    Tatsu coughed. He pointed to the counter next to the bed and said, “Hand me that water, will you?”
    I gave it to him and he sipped from it through a straw for a minute, then handed it back to me with a nod of thanks.
    “The main thing is this,” he said. “Right now, Yamaoto is physically secure because nothing is moving around him. If you want to create opportunities, you have to create movement. In shoring up other positions on the playing board, he would necessarily be weakening his own.”
    I nodded, seeing inside his shrunken body the thriving spirit of manipulation I had always resented and admired.
    As if reading my thoughts, he said, “I want all this for myself, Rain-san. I’m not afraid of dying, only of dying with my work left undone. But I also want it for you. I want you to have the chance for a life with your family.”
    “When this is over.”
    He nodded, conceding my point. “When this is over.”

22
    I RAN A ROUTE to make sure I hadn’t picked anyone up while visiting Tatsu, then called Dox. We found a coffeehouse and I briefed him on what I had discussed with Tatsu.
    When I was done, he said, “Well, it sounds sensible to me.”
    Dox was one of the few people I knew who without any self-consciousness might describe a plan to