Sakura still felt faint. The thought of being reunited with Yamato would have been enough; she would have run with him, taken him far from Japan. She would gladly have settled for the uncertainty of discovery just to have him with her. But Milton was offering more than that. He was offering freedom.

“Thank you,” she said. She turned a little so that she could look into his eyes. She saw steel and determination, but, behind it, she saw a sadness that she could not understand. Perhaps she could persuade him to stay in Tokyo for a little while?

Perhaps she could persuade him to stay for longer than a little while?

89

Miyasato and Sakura had rented a house in Hiroo, and Sakura had kept it after her husband had been killed. Katsuro had been watching the property all day in the hope that he might see some sign of occupation. There had been nothing. It was past ten in the evening now, and the salarymen who commuted into the city had all returned home. The street was quiet and, gradually, the flickers of TVs in downstairs windows were extinguished as the inhabitants turned in for the night. Downstairs lights clicked off and upstairs lights flicked on; another thirty minutes passed and, eventually, those lights were extinguished, too.

Katsuro opened the door of his car and stepped out. He was wearing a pair of thin nitrile gloves, had a pistol in a clip-on holster that he wore on his belt, and carried a small bag with a set of tools inside. He walked along the street to the house, checked that he was not being watched and, satisfied, turned onto the driveway and made his way to the front door. He tried the handle. It was locked. He took a couple of steps away from the door and regarded the narrow alleyway between the house and its neighbour. It was not really wide enough to be called an alleyway, more a gap between the two properties. Katsuro turned his body to one side and slipped into the darkness between the walls.

He took a deep breath, realising that the aperture was narrower than he remembered from when he’d broken in six months ago. He inhaled and felt the walls pushing against him from front and back. He shuffled along the passage, his barrel chest barely fitting, pausing halfway to get his breath. He continued on, grateful when the passageway widened as he reached the rear of the house.