Milton assessed his body: the pain down his ribs from where he had been pummelled, the blood running from his nose and the cut in his scalp, the ringing in his ears that might presage a concussion. Katsuro had delivered a comprehensive beating; Milton was not confident that he could take him in a straight-up fight, let alone in the state that he found himself now.

But Sakura was still up there with him.

He had to try.

* * *

Katsuro watched as the gaijin dropped from the balcony rail and fell out of sight. They were fourteen storeys up; there was no way he would be able to survive a fall like that. He would have gone to the balcony to look down and check, but he had the corkscrew stuck in his shoulder, Sakura was mumbling something on the floor, and the man and the woman in the bed were both screaming. Katsuro reached around until his fingers touched the wooden handle, and then he yanked the corkscrew out of his flesh and tossed it to the floor. He hauled Sakura to her feet and dragged her through the hole in the wall, back into her and Milton’s room. He collected the bag that the gaijin had thrown at his gun hand. He unzipped it and saw with astonishment that it contained the tantō that had been stolen from his father. It was a surprise, but a welcome one; he would be able to tell the old man that he had found Sakura and recovered the blade. He looked for his pistol, but it wasn’t on the balcony. There was a gap between the glass barrier and the floor, and the only thing that he could think was that it had slipped through and fallen to the ground below.

Sakura was still dazed. “Get up,” Katsuro said.

She mumbled Yamato’s name. He picked up a glass of water and dashed it in her face.

“We’re leaving,” he said. He zipped up the bag and slung it over his shoulder. “You say anything or do anything and I’ll go straight to Yamato. I’ll throw him out of the window, just like the gaijin. Understand?”

She blinked the water out of her eyes and nodded.

“Good.”

He took her hand, hauled her out of the room and turned left. A guest had just stepped out of one of the elevators, and Katsuro picked up their pace enough to get to the door before it could close. It slid open and he ushered Sakura inside. He saw that her throat was marked from where he had choked her out, and bruises were forming on her face from where he had struck her.

He decided against trying to take her through the lobby and hit the button for the second floor.

The elevator came to a halt and the doors opened.

“Move,” he said, dragging her with him.