The Last Assassin

I met a nice woman in Paris. Valérie. She…tells me about Whispers.”
    The woman smiled and nodded. “Ah, Val. She was very popular here. How is she?”
    “She is very well, I think.”
    “Do you live in Paris? Or…”
    “Yes, Paris.”
    “Then you’re just visiting Tokyo.”
    “ Oui. Yes, visiting.”
    The woman nodded again as though considering. Then she said, “Our membership is exclusive. Men of unusual wealth and taste. Powerful men. Do you think you could entertain such men? Know how to…please them?”
    Delilah paused again as though having difficulty with the English, then said, “I like men.”
    The woman laughed. “And I expect they like you. But, forgive me, your English is not very good, is it?”
    Delilah smiled a little sheepishly, as though the woman had just exposed a secret. “Non, but I am 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 free-standing 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