“My brother is responsible for what has happened to her. I will speak to him.”

“I understand that the two of you aren’t on the best of terms.”

“Not since I left the family business,” he said, relying on the euphemism for a second time.

“And you think he’ll listen to you?”

“I will make him listen,” he said resolutely. “As I say—thank you for what you have done, but I would prefer it if you left things to me from now on.”

Milton paused, looking between father and daughter as he made up his own mind. Hachirō looked steadfast, his arms crossed over his chest and his chin forward, a defensive posture that was impossible to miss; Sakura, on the other hand, looked concerned. Milton could understand why. Her father was old and, given the situation that she had just explained to him—and the stakes involved—she was clearly worried that he was going to do something that would involve him coming to harm. Milton could see that Hachirō was a prideful man, and he knew, from his own experience, what pride often led to.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t let you do that.”

“I wasn’t asking you,” the old man said, his eyes growing cold. “I am telling you.”

“I mean this with respect, but that’s not your decision to make. I have a stake in this, too.”

“I am Sakura’s father—”

“I’m not talking about Sakura,” he said, cutting over him. “Your nephew—Katsuro—was sent to chaperone her in Bali.”

“I know,” Hachirō said darkly. “She told me.”

Milton wondered how much the old man had been told, and, after a quick glance at Sakura and registering the infinitesimal shake of her head, assumed that it wasn’t nearly the whole story.

“Katsuro made an attempt to find her—to find us—and he followed us to the hotel where we were staying. He attacked a man who helped us. The man is the husband of a friend of mine. I can’t let that go uncorrected.”

“This is a family matter,” the old man said, still unconvinced.

“We’re going to have to disagree.”

Hachirō clenched his jaw. “You seem determined to put yourself in harm’s way. My brother is a dangerous man. We have been estranged for many years, but we are still family. You are not. I can have a conversation with him that you cannot. I can tell him things—home truths—that, if you tried, would have you killed.”

“I understand that.”

“And it makes no difference to you?”

“Has Sakura told you what I used to do?”

He looked to his daughter. “No.”

“Your brother doesn’t frighten me. I know what the ‘family business’ is, and that doesn’t frighten me, either. I’ve dealt with criminals before, and they’ve always overestimated their own influence and underestimated me. It’s usually a mistake they regret.”

77