Under different circumstances, he thought, the explanation for his arrival in the country might have been something that he could have considered possible. He chased the thought from his mind.

* * *

The immigration official looked at their passports, then back up at them, then down at the passports again. He said something in Japanese to Sakura and handed her passport back to her, then looked at Milton.

“Mr. Blair,” he said, switching to English, “this is your first time in Tokyo?”

“It is,” Milton said.

“Your business?”

“I’m here to meet my wife’s father.”

“Where does he live?”

“Ota City.”

The man glanced between the two of them. If he had any reservations, he signalled that they had been dismissed by stamping the first empty page of the passport. There was no requirement that Milton have a visa to enter the country and, as the man handed the passport back to him, he gave a curt nod and offered a gruff, “Welcome to Japan,” and waved them on their way.

Sakura reached into her handbag and pulled out a large pair of sunglasses and a broad-brimmed floppy hat, both purchased at the Manila airport at Milton’s insistence. It wasn’t much of a disguise, but it would be better than nothing.

He set off toward the exit with Sakura alongside.

“Remind me which hotel you booked?”

“The Hotel Gracery. It’s in Shinjuku. There’s a statue of Godzilla outside.”

“Of course there is,” Milton said.

He smiled as he diverted to the nearest ATM. Sakura took out her bank card and drew out enough money to pay for their transport and five nights’ accommodation. She asked if they would need longer, and Milton shook his head. He didn’t intend to hang around. He would acclimatise himself to the city, try to gain a better understanding of their enemy, and then work on his plan. Three days might be all the time that he would need if things went as he hoped they might.

72

They found a taxi and Milton asked the driver to take them to the Gracery. The streets were crowded with Tokyoites making their way round the city with the usual combination of orderliness and determination. He again noted with amusement that the sidewalks were organised with regard to the speed of the pedestrians: fast, medium paced and slow.

Sakura reached out and took his hand in hers. “When were you here last?”

“A year or two ago,” Milton said.

“I used to love it,” she said. “Before—you know.”

Milton could imagine how the events of the last few months would have soured the city for her.

“You won’t be able to stay,” he said. “Once we have Yamato, you’ll need to go.”

“I know. I’ll take him to England.”

“That was your plan before, wasn’t it?”

She nodded.

“Do you think Takashi knew that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”