Right on time.

Milton turned and started back. She was a minute or two away from him. He looked back to the parking lot and saw Hachirō open the back doors of the van, then make his way back into the cab to start the engine; Milton heard it cough and then the steady grumble. He looked around: the three old men had finished their exercises and were walking away to the south. The park was quiet. They had been fortunate.

Milton reached into his pocket and found the grip of the pistol, sliding his fingers around it as he picked up his pace.

94

Natsuki rounded the corner, maintaining a steady pace. She was in the zone: lost in the repetitiveness of her stride, the outside world closed out by whatever it was she was listening to. Milton stood next to a bench at the side of the trail and pretended to stretch, waiting for her to reach him. The park was still quiet, the only potential witness a dog walker still a quarter of a mile away.

The woman approached and, when she was alongside, Milton turned and wrapped his right arm around her waist, immediately arresting her momentum. He looped his left arm around her, too, locking his hands and hoisting her off the ground. She wasn’t heavy, and, in her shock, it took her a moment to think that she should struggle. Milton was already halfway to the van by then, and, besides, she was no match for him. He doubted that she was more than a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet, and, as he squeezed her against his chest so that he could lock her arms against her torso, there was little that she could do to stop him from crossing the distance to the back of the van and shoving her inside.

She hadn’t seen his face yet and now he reached down for the menpō mask that he had left beneath the van. He put it on and climbed into the back. Natsuki screamed at the sight of him; Milton reached around for the pistol and showed it to her, his finger held up against his lips. The look of terror on her face made Milton feel worse than he already did, but there was nothing else for it.

Hachirō shut the rear doors and hurried around to the cab. The gearbox protested as he forced it into gear, and the suspension groaned as the van pulled away.

Natsuki backed away from Milton, all the way to the divider that separated the back of the van from the cab. Only a little light filtered through the opaque film that darkened the rear windows, but it was enough for him to see the fear on her face.

“Do you speak English?” Milton asked her.

Natsuki nodded in reply before her eyes flicked down to the pistol. Milton lowered it.