Milton turned into the elevator lobby and, when he was out of sight of the desk, pushed open the door to the restroom. He took off the helmet and dropped it on the floor, then unzipped the courier bag and took out the solid clay-like substance that he had made in the restaurant. He had taken the potassium nitrate crystals and added sugar and then heated the mixture in one of Hachirō’s skillets. He had poured the resultant sludge into a boat that he had made from aluminium foil and left it in the delivery bag to cool. He prodded it now; it looked ready, with the doughy consistency that he wanted. He peeled the foil away, dropped the mixture into the basin and lit it with his lighter. It took only a moment before it caught light. Smoke gushed out of the basin, quickly thickening until visibility in the room was reduced by the haze and then almost completely eliminated. Milton retrieved the helmet, opened the door to the bathroom and let the smoke escape. He yelled out the second Japanese word that Hachirō had taught him.

“Kaji!”

Fire.

Milton placed himself behind the door and waited for the guards to arrive. It took just a few seconds; the first man came inside, saw the smoke and froze. Milton swung the helmet into the man’s head. It was a hefty blow and the man fell, limp, to the dirty floor.

The door opened again. This guard, too, stood stock-still. Milton grabbed him from behind, forced him down and rammed him head-first into the far wall. The guard fell, face down, and Milton dropped astride him, grabbing a handful of hair and then driving his head against the tiles until he stopped struggling.

There was blood on the helmet. Milton wiped it off with a paper towel, put it back on and, with his finger around the trigger of the shotgun that was still hidden inside the courier bag, he backed through the door and returned to the lobby. Smoke was pouring out of the bathroom and filling the lobby area. Milton walked briskly to the now abandoned front desk and the switch for the fire alarm that he had noticed on his previous visit.

He smashed the glass, pressed the button and heard the wail of the alarm.

120

Takashi woke up to the sound of the alarm. He lay in bed for a moment, staring up at the ceiling and waiting for it to be disengaged. One of the disadvantages of living in a tower block was that there were moments like this; on the other hand, he employed men to staff the lobby twenty-four hours a day, and one of the tasks for which they were responsible was the quick investigation and, usually, identification of false alarms. Shinoda and Kodama were on duty tonight. They would fix it.

The alarm did not stop.