The job before this one had been more personal. Katsuro had murdered his own brother, Miyasato, after he had brought down disgrace upon himself by stealing from their father. Takashi blamed Sakura for turning her husband’s head, and Katsuro had suggested that she be punished by working as their mule to smuggle the heroin that the premans wanted. His father had agreed, and Katsuro had set the plan in motion. It had gone well. Sakura was a beautiful and regal-looking woman, and, as Katsuro had suspected, a passenger like her—fresh from first class—did not fit the usual template for a body packer. The arrangement had been easy and a little boring, but he didn’t mind. He was being paid well and took satisfaction in earning his father’s respect. And, more than that, he was able to spend time with Sakura. She had been resistant to his advances at first, but it had not taken him long to remind her that it would be unwise to say no to him. There was her son to consider, he had said. And it wasn’t as if she was indispensable. There were other good-looking women they could use.

Katsuro shifted on his heels. He was becoming impatient. His car was outside and he needed to take Sakura to the hotel. The process was simple: meet Sakura, take her to the hotel to shit out the heroin, then ensure that the drugs were delivered to the Laskar Bali gang. The relationship with the premans was fledgling, but potentially lucrative. Takashi had agreed to half a dozen runs as a demonstration of their efficiency and trustworthiness, and after the first five had gone well, this final delivery—if handled as smoothly as the others—could presage a more permanent relationship.

The doors slid open again. He glimpsed a woman in a navy-blue dress with a coloured flower pattern being supported by a Western man. It was too far away for Katsuro to see much detail, but he could tell that the man was white and of medium build, and that he was holding the woman up.

Sakura.

He heard raised voices from the immigration booths and then heard heavy footsteps behind him. He turned to see two policemen running toward the booths. Katsuro craned his neck to see what was going on, but Sakura and the man were out of sight now. He cursed under his breath, reminded himself to stay calm and objective, and considered his options. He could call his father and let him know that there was an issue, but that ran the risk that the old man would decide that he wasn’t up to the task and had called for help.

That was not acceptable.