“I’m not frightened. This is me being practical. I don’t want to have to deal with these boys in the event you find out who I am. It’ll be better for them.”

Satoshi looked older than he had done in the photographs that Milton had seen. He was dressed in a smart dark suit with well-shined shoes. He was carrying a bag, medium sized and made of leather, and he held it up so that Milton could see it.

“I have something for you,” Satoshi said. “Where is my sister?”

“You’ll have her in a moment. Open the bag, please.”

Satoshi unzipped the bag and held it open. Milton glanced inside the bag and saw the tantō. He knew that there was a possibility that Satoshi would try to fob him off with an imitation, or something less exclusive, so he reached inside and turned the handle so that he could see the inscription written on the core. He had read the story about the sword’s discovery in America and had seen close-up photographs of it. The inscription matched.

“Happy?” Satoshi said.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“So where is she?” Satoshi said, looking around.

Milton pulled out his phone and called Hachirō.

“Okay,” he said when the call was answered. “We’re good.”

Milton disconnected the call and stared at Satoshi.

“In a few moments,” he said, “your phone will ring. It will be Natsuki, and she will tell you that she is safe and well. When that happens, I’ll leave and you’ll never see me again.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I’m sure.”

“I disagree. I think I will see you.”

“I told you—I’m not frightened. I took your sister once. Don’t make me think you’re coming after me or maybe I’ll take her again. I looked after her very well this time. Next time? I don’t know.”

Milton heard the ringing of a phone. Satoshi reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell and looked at the screen. Milton saw his relief, quickly mastered, before he answered the call and spoke in rapid Japanese. He kept his eye on Milton before finally nodding his head. Milton took that as his signal to leave. He descended the steps down into the crowd. The men who had accompanied Satoshi did not seek to impede him, nor did they give pursuit. Milton had doubted that they would; if he was to be followed—and he was certain now that he would be followed—he knew that the tails would be waiting out of sight. He would detect them only by concentrated vigilance, looking for repeats: a person seen more than once, a coat that he recognised, perhaps even the same pair of shoes that he had noticed from before. He would shake them off before making his way back to the hotel.

He called Hachirō. “It’s me.”

“Did you get it?”