“I suppose not. Look—I’ll give you a flavour of what I used to do. I used to work for my government. Solving problems. Unfortunately for me, I seemed to have developed a conscience as I’ve grown older. Sakura was lucky to find me when she did. I met her, realised what she had been forced to do, and decided that I would help. So we do need to be clear about one thing—I’m not offering to work for you. I’m working for her, and trying to find a way for you to get what you need to leave her and her son alone.”

“And this is your solution?”

“It’s one of them,” Milton said.

“The other?”

“Less pleasant for all involved. I’d rather not have to go down that path. This way is better—you get to walk away with your property returned and your pride intact.”

Takashi stared at him. “You are threatening me, Milton-san?”

“Just stating a fact. Sakura and Yamato are going to be reunited and they’re going to live peaceful, happy lives, far away from here. I’m doing you the service of allowing you to choose how that happens.”

Takashi paused for a moment, drumming his fingers on the desk as he watched Milton. The man was sitting quietly, just staring at him. There was something about his gaze that was disquieting, but Takashi kept his expression neutral.

He made up his mind. The gaijin could pretend to have leverage, could flaunt his confidence, but he had nothing. Takashi had the leverage; Yamato was downstairs, under his control. He was concerned about making a hostile move against Furokawa, but the gaijin was right; Takashi could deny any involvement. And there was something about the man sitting before him that suggested that it might not be an entirely fanciful hope that he could do what he had said he could do. Takashi’s collection would be complete once again if Milton could recover Shōin’s tantō. That was a prize worth the gamble.

“Fine,” Takashi said. “I agree. The tantō for the boy.”

“And Sakura, too. Her debt is expunged. I have your word that they will never be bothered again?”

“You have my word,” Takashi said.

Takashi rose and offered his hand. Milton shook it. The gaijin’s grip was firm and unyielding.

“When do you plan to do this?”

“Soon,” Milton said.

Takashi tried to remove his hand, but Milton held on.

Fumio took a step toward them; so did the guard.

“I want to see the boy first,” Milton said, still grasping Takashi by the hand and staring into his eyes.

“You do not trust me?”

“Of course not. I trust you about as much as you trust me.”

Milton let go. Takashi considered the request, concluding that it was not unreasonable. He would have asked for the same assurances had the roles been reversed.