He heard the sound of footsteps in the main body of the restaurant. He went to the door and opened it slowly, pulling it back an inch so that he could look through the crack. A couple of low lights had been lit, and Milton could see Hachirō sitting at one of the tables, his head bowed. Hachirō didn’t respond as Milton made his way into the room. The older man brought a hand to his head and then turned. His face was pinched, with no colour in his cheeks. His eyes were red-rimmed and burned with cold fire.

“There’s a jug of water on the table over there,” the old man said. “Help yourself to anything from the kitchen.”

Milton lowered himself onto one of the stools at the counter. The older man stood, put on a dark coat and reached under the counter for a shotgun that Milton had not seen before.

“Where are you going with that?”

“To see my brother.”

“No,” Milton said. “You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’ll kill you.”

Hachirō took a box of shells and poured a handful into his pocket. “Then that is what will happen.”

The old man started toward the door.

Milton got up and stepped across his path. “Wait.”

“Please,” Hachirō said. “Get out of my way.”

“I know where they’re keeping Yamato. I’ve seen him—I’ve been in the same room. It’s probably where they’ll have Sakura, too. Let me do it. I know you probably think I won’t be any help, but this is what I used to do. I can get them out.”

Hachirō considered Milton’s suggestion. Milton knew that he was no fool, and that he must have realised that he wouldn’t last five minutes if he tried to take on his brother alone. Milton was worried that Hachirō’s notion of honour might override his good sense, that he would rather die in glory than accept help, but the old man was more pragmatic than Milton had given him credit for. His need to see his family rescued and justice delivered was greater than any desire to seek vengeance for himself.

He shook his head, but, before he could speak, there was a knocking at the door.

Milton stood. “Are you expecting anyone?”

“No,” he said.

“Give me the gun.”

Hachirō did as he was asked. Milton took the shotgun and stepped back so that he was at the side of the room, in a position where he would be able to cover anyone coming inside without being seen until it was too late.

The knocking was repeated with more urgency.

Milton nodded.