“I want to be honest with you,” he said. “It’s not what I’ve done that you need to be aware of. It’s what I can do for you—and for Yamato.” He stared at her. “Tell me something? Do you have anyone in Tokyo who can help?”

“Of course I do,” Sakura blustered.

“Really? With the yakuza?”

She paused for a moment, then bit her lip. “No.”

The silence seemed to last for an age.

He held her eye. “Now you do.”

She put a hand to her head and massaged her temples. “Thank you,” she said. “Again.”

“While we’re being honest, there’s something else. My name isn’t Smith. It’s Milton.”

“Why would you pretend to be someone else?”

“Because of what I used to do. There are people who would like to know where I am. They don’t have my best interests at heart, so I try to stay under the radar. A pseudonym is a good start. The reason I came here was that Victoria is very good at putting together false identities. My old one—Smith—was compromised, so I needed to become someone else. That’s what she’s been helping me to do.”

“So who are you now?”

“My passport will say Eric Blair,” he said.

“Right,” she said. “Eric.”

“I can be John to you, in private—but it’ll be Eric if anyone is listening. I’ve asked Victoria to get one for you, too.”

“And what will that say?”

“Jessica Blair,” he said.

“Mrs. Blair?”

“Provided that’s all right with you?”

She smiled.

“Sakura?”

“I’m sure I’ll get used to it,” she said.

53

Milton knew that there was nothing to do but wait for Jean-Michel to speak to his brother. He would then have to negotiate with whoever it was who could get them on board a ship bound for Japan. He had no idea how long the process might take, but suspected that they might be waiting a little while. The weather was glorious and, with nothing else to do, it seemed churlish to waste it. He changed into his damp shorts and then returned to the pool area. There were two of them: one was large and mostly shallow, intended for family use; the other, restricted to adults, was suitable for swimming lengths. He dived into the second one, powered under the water before breaking the surface and setting out with strong, confident strokes. He reached the other end, performed a serviceable tumble turn, and set off again in the opposite direction.

He allowed his thoughts to subside, concentrating on the water and the pattern of his stroke. He felt the sun on his back as he crested the surface and felt the burn in his arms and legs, but that was it; after a while, he forgot the number of laps that he had swum, and just swam more.