She crossed to the curtains that covered the balcony doors and pulled them back. In the distance, she could see the bright lights of Manila sparkling in the darkness. The jagged skyline, punctuated by skyscrapers, was full of flickering lights. She saw the outline of a huge Ferris wheel, each empty pod lit from within.

“But why the rush? The boat doesn’t dock until lunch.”

“I’ve arranged an early transfer,” Milton said, pressing his palms on the suitcase to force it shut. “We need to get going.”

* * *

Katsuro had taken up position in the terminal building of Manila’s North Port. He was next to a large plate-glass window that allowed him an excellent view of the harbour and the darkened sea beyond.

His journey from Bali to Manila had been uneventful. He had flown first class, as was his preference, but the Air Asia seat was average and the service was patchy, at best. He had spent the time watching a film, but had been distracted by thoughts of Sakura and the situation into which she had pitched him. He was angry that she had betrayed him and frustrated that his father would think less of him because of it.

He had consoled himself with the knowledge that he had outsmarted her and the gaijin, Milton, who was helping, and had planned appropriate punishments for both. Katsuro would allow her to live—for a little while, at least—but the gaijin would not be so fortunate. He had insulted the Nishimoto-kai with his impudence and now he would pay the price. Katsuro would collect his debt and would enjoy himself as he did it.

He raised a set of binoculars to his eyes and focused them on the brightly lit freighter, which was sitting at anchor while it waited for a vacant pier. He had spoken to a member of staff and, under the guise of being someone who enjoyed watching big ships, he had confirmed that it was the Fidelio. Katsuro adjusted the focus of the binoculars before zooming in on the ship. It was too far away to make out anything at all, but it didn’t matter. Sakura would be on board and, when she disembarked, he would follow her.

A bag lay at Katsuro’s feet with the essential provisions that he had picked up after his arrival yesterday. He had contacted a merchant with whom he had had dealings before, and had purchased a pistol and ammunition. In the bag, wrapped in an oily cloth, was a SIG Sauer P228. It was the standard-issue sidearm for the Philippine Air Force. Next to the gun were a couple of boxes of ammunition, and attached to the front of the pistol was a tubular silencer that had cost well over three times what it should have. Expensive, but he might need it.