The Last Assassin (21 page)

T
ATSU CALLED ME THAT
night to tell me he had some items I'd requested. He warned me to expect a different bodyguard this time, which was thoughtful of him. If I saw someone unfamiliar outside his door at night, he knew, it would make me jumpy.

I went to the hospital, using a lot of care in my approach. Repeated meetings in the same place was a huge violation of SOP, but right now obviously there wasn't an alternative.

The new guy knocked, then let me in. Tatsu was on his bed, pale and sweating this time. I looked at him for a moment. “You okay?” I said.

He nodded, grimacing. “It's okay. Just…hurts, sometimes. It'll pass.”

I pulled up a chair and sat with him, feeling helpless while he gritted his teeth and groaned.

“Let me get a nurse,” I said. “She'll give you something for the pain.”

He shook his head. “They'll give me morphine. It knocks me out. I can't have that. Not now.”

After a few minutes the groaning stopped and his breathing evened out.

“That was a bad one,” he said. “They're getting more frequent, too. Fewer and fewer breaks. Hand me that towel, would you?”

There was a damp towel on the bedside stand. I gave it to him and he mopped his face.

“Don't worry,” he said, “I'm all right. You see, cancer is simply nature's way of making you want to die.”

I couldn't laugh, even though I knew he wanted me to. But I managed a weak smile for him.

I put my hand on his shoulder and we sat quietly for a few minutes. I said, “What have you got for me?”

He pressed the call button. The bodyguard came in and handed him a backpack, then left.

Tatsu gave the backpack to me. I opened it. Inside were a set of floor plans and assorted commo gear.

I pulled out the plans and unfolded them. “Whispers?”

He nodded. “And the communications equipment you asked for. Three pairs.”

I shook my head in admiration. “How do you get ahold of these things?”

He smiled. “People who owe me favors. The question is, what are you going to do with it?”

“I'm not sure yet. I need to go over these plans, then get a firsthand look at the club. I'll know better after that.”

“What about your inside man?”

I thought about my talk with Delilah. She had called back to say she was coming, but it was tense.

“That's proceeding,” I said. “But no guarantee yet.”

A
FTER LEAVING TATSU
, I bought a pair of binoculars, two pairs of long underwear, and a hat in Shinjuku. Then I went to reconnoiter Whispers.

The club was located in the elegant, tree-lined Minami Aoyama area between Kotto-dori to the east and Nireke-dori to the west, not far from the Nezu art museum. Its immediate neighbors were hip restaurants and chic galleries and exquisite boutiques, sometimes unusual combinations of the three, all bracketed north and south by a pair of nameless streets. The northern one led to the club. The southern one ran behind it along a line of buildings, some of them separated by alleys.

There was a construction site north of the club entrance, which provided a decent vantage point. I watched for a few hours as a group of valets helped people in and out of their expensive cars, but I couldn't see much more than that. Still, it was better to have some firsthand knowledge of the club's environs than none at all. By the time I was done, at two in the morning, I was chilled to the bone.

I went back to the hotel and slept for six hours, then took the train to the airport to meet Delilah. She came through customs looking around, but didn't spot me right away amid the sea of mostly Japanese faces. She was wearing jeans and a black leather jacket, and there was a brown leather carry-on slung over one of her shoulders. Her hair was tied back and she was wearing no makeup that I could see. A little tired, maybe, but otherwise looking radiant as usual.

I watched her unseen for a moment and felt a rush of conflicted emotions. Gratitude that she would do this for me. Guilt that I had asked her. Remorse that I'd fucked up and caused this mess to begin with. And confusion, about who and what I even wanted.

I emerged from behind a cluster of people waiting on friends and family and business interests. She saw me then and nodded.

I stopped in front of her. Every other time I'd seen her after an absence, there had been some kind of embrace. Not today.

“Thanks for coming,” I said.

She nodded. “Where to?”

“Here, let me take that.” She let me slip the bag off her shoulder and we started navigating through the crowds waiting in the arrivals lounge. She looked around as we walked, and I wondered whether it was operational or more in the way of taking in the unfamiliar sights in a new environment. Probably both.

“I've got a van in the garage,” I said. “It's about an hour's drive into Tokyo. I'll brief you on the way.”

I glanced over and saw her looking at me, but I couldn't read her expression. “Have you been here before?” I asked.

She shook her head. “China once. Never Japan.”

“Maybe I'll get to show you around, then. I know a few places.”

She looked at me. “But business first. Right?”

I thought she was trying to provoke me. Better not to answer.

On the way into Tokyo I told her everything. Not what had happened with Midori in her apartment, of course, or what I'd felt there—that would have been neither relevant nor useful. But everything else.

She listened quietly while I spoke. When I was done, she said, “Well, you've certainly been busy since I last saw you.”

“That's one way to put it.”

“Your friend Dox must be pretty loyal to you, to stick with you through this.”

I didn't like the comment. I said, “That's part of it. We also walked away with a lot of money at Wajima. You can have my share if you want it.”

Let her decide whether she wanted this to be business or personal.

She said, “You'd have to tell me what you're paying me for first.”

“I think you know.”

“Maybe. You want me to pose as an applicant, reconnoiter this club for you.”

“That's pretty much it.”

“What if I actually get the job? Are you going to mind my sleeping with one of the customers?”

I looked at her. “Yeah, I'll mind. You're not going to be any good to me if you're not on the premises.”

Her lips started to thin out in anger. Then I smiled and she realized I was teasing her. I shouldn't have done it, maybe, but I had to try something to break the tension.

She shook her head and muttered something in Hebrew. I was glad I couldn't understand what. I went back to driving and an instant later I saw her pivot in her seat, too late to do anything about it. She hit me on the top of the thigh with a thunderous hammer fist and I yelled out, “Fuck!”

“Don't you make light of me,” she said. “I am not happy about this.”

“Damn,” I said. “I was just trying to loosen things up a little.”

“Yeah, well, find another way.”

One or two other smart comments did come insidiously to mind, but I thought better of saying them. We drove in silence for a few minutes. I rubbed my thigh, thinking I was going to have to ice it when I had the chance. She knew what she was doing and had really cracked me.

Seeing how pissed and resentful she was, I wondered for a moment why she was helping me at all. I wasn't suspicious, at least not on a professional level. We'd been through too much together for me to believe she could pose that kind of threat. But I still couldn't fully understand why she had come.

I decided that, if she had asked for my help in like circumstances, I would have offered it. Because it was the right thing to do. Because I cared enough about her. Because I wanted someone who could depend on me. Maybe it was the same for her.

I thought a little more. She hadn't asked me what it was like to see Midori, what it was like between us. I thought I understood why she hadn't, and I had no idea what I would say if she did. Well, we'd have time to talk about all that when Yamaoto was done. Right now it was a distraction.

“I assume I'll need some sort of reference when I go there tonight,” she said. “Have you thought about that?”

I was ahead of her on this one, and had already worked it out with Tatsu. “It's taken care of,” I said. “They had a French woman working there two years ago, Valérie Silbert. She lives in Paris now. You met her at a club, she told you about Whispers. You came by to check it out. If it looks promising and they can help you with the visa, you're ready to give it a try.”

“You want me to go in with that? That's the thinnest cover I've ever heard.”

“It's good enough. My contact in Japanese intelligence got the Paris address, but said he couldn't get a phone number without more digging. If he couldn't get it, no one can.”

“What if they already have the number? They might have stayed in touch.”

“Maybe. But no one's going to try to contact the woman on such short notice, anyway. And even if they did, who's to say she didn't talk to you one night at a club? I doubt she'd remember herself. Look, even if anyone were inclined to contact her, this thing will be done long before. Thirty-six hours from now, give or take, that's it.”

“They'll probably want to see identification. A passport.”

Shit, I hadn't thought of that. Too much had been happening.

“You're not traveling under your own name, are you?”

“No.”

“French passport? French pocket litter?”

“Yes.”

I wanted to ask,
Then why did you bring it up?

Instead I said, “We're good to go, then.”

“But you didn't think of it. It makes me wonder what else you're missing.”

I glanced over at her and said, “You want to tell me what's really bugging you?”

There was another pause. She said, “This whole situation.”

Yeah, me too,
I wanted to say. Instead I asked, “Have you got a place to stay? Hotel?”

“Not yet. I barely had time to make it to the airport.”

Even cranky as she was, I wanted her to stay with me, but operationally it would be safer for her to stay somewhere else. On the other hand, I didn't want her to think I didn't want her. On the other other hand…

Jesus.
I couldn't take much more of this.

“I'm at the Hilton, in Shinjuku,” I said. “It's not La Florida, but it'll do. You're welcome to stay with me, if you like.”

There was a pause. She said, “I think it's better if I stay somewhere else.”

I might have asked,
Better, why? Is this personal, or operational?
But it seemed better to let it alone.

“Tell me about your cover,” I said, “and I'll make a reservation for you somewhere appropriate.”

She was quiet for a moment, imagining. Then she said, “I live in Paris. My philandering husband died recently, leaving me with nothing but debts. I need a way to make money, and I want to get away from everything connected with my old life, do something exciting, have an adventure. When I heard about Whispers, it sounded like exactly what I needed.”

I didn't have to ask her about the details. I'd seen her in action before and knew that soon enough all the lies would be carefully thought through and intricately connected.

“Probably Le Meridien Pacific in Shinagawa, then. Makes sense that you'd choose a French chain, and there are only two in Tokyo. The other's in Odaiba, a little far from the center of things. The one in Shinagawa isn't a bad hotel. Close to where Dox is staying, too.”

“Okay.”

I took out my mobile phone and called information, which connected me to the hotel. I asked them if they had availability tonight and for the next five nights. They told me they did. I said I would call back and clicked off.

“They've got rooms,” I said. “Just tell them you had a reservation, and they'll think they lost it. No big deal for anyone as long as there's still availability. It would look strange if you showed up without a reservation, or if you made one a half hour before checking in.”

“I know.”

I glanced over. “One other thing. See if you can rent a mobile phone through the hotel. The one you use in France won't work here. I'd get you one myself, but…”

“I know. We need something backstopped.”

Damn, she was touchy. Well, I'd rather irritate her by pointing out the obvious than take a chance on overlooking something important.

“What name will you be using at the hotel?” I asked.

“Laure Kupfer.”

“Kupfer with a K?”

“Yes.”

I told her my mobile number. She wrote it down. I told her where Dox was staying, just a short walk from Le Meridien, and that we should plan to meet in his room at seven o'clock that evening unless I heard from her otherwise.

We drove the rest of the way in silence. When I dropped her off, she said she wanted to sleep for a few hours. That sounded like a good idea. It was around four in the morning in Paris, and if things went well at her audition tonight she might be out late.

“Do you have money?” I asked her.

She shook her head.

I reached into a pocket and pulled out some bills. I counted out ten ten-thousand-yen notes and extended them to her. “This is about eight hundred dollars,” I said. “Not sure what that is in Euros—maybe seven, seven-fifty, I think.”

“I'll find an ATM,” she said, making no move to take the money.

“That'll be a waste of time,” I said. “You can pay me back if you want.”

After a moment, she took the money. “I'll call you later,” she said, and was gone.