He held his breath and waited. The two men passed the opening, walking quickly, their attention fixed on the stairs. Milton let them pass and then stepped out and closed the distance to them. They were on the stairs by the time he reached them, and appeared not to have noticed him until he grabbed them both by the collars of their jackets and hauled them backwards. They both lost their footing and tumbled down the steps. Milton followed them down and straddled the closest one, dropping down to a crouch and delivering a stiff downward jab that landed on the point of the man’s chin. His eyes rolled up into his head and he went limp, out for the count. His partner was on his back, dazed from his fall but still aware enough of his peril to reach into his jacket for a knife. Milton hopped off the first man and closed the distance to the second with two strides, reaching down and fastening his hand around the man’s wrist. Milton had the advantage of being above him; he levered the man’s hand back, pushing against the joint until his fingers loosened and he dropped the knife.

The man yelped with pain.

Milton bent at the waist and pressed down with his forearm against the man’s throat.

“You speak English?”

The man gasped for breath. “Some.”

“You work for Takashi Nishimoto?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to deliver a message. Tell him that I want to see him. He’s lost something very important to him—a sword. Tell him I have a proposal to get it back. Nod if you understand.”

The man did his best to nod. Milton kept the arm bar over his throat, pressing down a little harder as he reached out with his right hand for the discarded knife.

“I’ll come to his building tomorrow at midday,” he said. “Nod.”

The man did.

“And don’t try to follow us,” Milton said. “You’re not very good at it.”

He put the knife in his pocket, removed his arm from the man’s throat and stood. The yakuza stayed where he was, on his back, looking up at Milton with a mixture of bewilderment and fear. Milton zipped up his jacket and turned to the stairs, taking them two at a time as he climbed away and left the two of them behind him.

81

Sakura was outside the entrance to the station. She had found a taxi and it was waiting by the side of the road.

“Well done,” Milton said. “Let’s get going.”

He opened the door for her and then joined her in the back. The driver asked where they were going, and Sakura, after checking with Milton, told him to drive them to the Gracery.

“What happened?” she asked him in a quiet voice.

“I spoke to one of them.”

“‘Spoke’? What does that mean?”