Katsuro smiled and shook his head. “My father asked me to come and speak to you. He won’t believe that, either.” He took a knife from the block and held it so that the metal could be heated by the flame. “Shall we start again? Where did you go tonight?”

118

Sakura knew there was no point in trying to sleep. Of course, she was terrified of what tomorrow might bring for her, but that wasn’t the reason for her agitation. It was what Takashi had said before Katsuro had led her down here: this apartment was next to the one in which her son was being held. She went to the wall now and laid her palm against it, then leaned in closer so that she could listen for any sound that might leak from that room to this. She could hear nothing. It was late, two in the morning, and Yamato would be asleep. The thought of him so close to her and yet so far away was maddening.

Katsuro had laughed at her as he had delivered her here.

She walked across the apartment to the front door and tried the handle, afraid that it would be locked but also afraid that it would be open. It was locked. The door did not appear to be particularly strong, but she doubted that she would be able to force it, and certainly not without attracting the attention of Katsuro or anyone else who might be on the floor. She went to the large window in the sitting room; it opened at the top, but not enough for her to climb out. Even if that had been possible, she was eleven floors up. There would be no escape that way.

She looked down and wondered about Milton. She had seen what Katsuro had done to him. He had beaten him and then forced him over the balcony. She had watched him fall. They had been even higher at the hotel than she was here, and she knew that there was no possibility that he might have survived. He was dead, and her father had no idea where she was and what was about to happen to her.

She left the window and lowered herself back onto the futon. She closed her eyes, even as she knew that sleep would be impossible; her only option was to wait out the hours until the morning and then pray that she might have the opportunity to speak to Takashi again. She tried to think about what she would say to change his mind.

119

Hachirō rolled up to the junction over which Takashi Nishimoto’s tower presided. He brought the van to a stop and killed the engine. It was four in the morning and the two of them had been busy. Milton looked out of the dusty windshield at the building. There were lights in some of the windows, but just one on the two top floors.