Furokawa looked over to the big man, who was observing from the other side of the alley, and gave a shallow nod of his head. The man disappeared into the restaurant, and when he returned, he was carrying a small sports bag. He brought it over to the table and set it down in front of Miyasato.

“Your turn, Nishimoto-san,” Furokawa said. “Open it.”

Miyasato took hold of the zip and pulled it toward him, opening the mouth of the bag as he did so. He looked inside: the bag was full of banknotes. He had agreed to a fee of ¥10 million—around $100,000—and he hoped it would be enough to get him and his family to the United Kingdom and then set them up there.

“I’ve given you a little more than you asked for,” Furokawa said. “You’ve taken a risk for me, and I believe in rewarding those who take chances. There’s another million yen there. I give it to you with my thanks.”

“Thank you,” Miyasato said. “I’m grateful.”

Furokawa bowed his head. He took the tantō, admired it for a moment, and then gave it to his bodyguard. “Take it back to the house.”

The man bowed, took the sword, and walked away.

Furokawa smiled at Miyasato. “Are you sure I can’t tempt you with a glass of sake to celebrate a job well done?”

“That’s very kind,” Miyasato said, “but I’d rather be on my way.”

“Of course. You’ll be leaving the city, I expect. Your father will be unhappy when he finds out what you’ve done.”

Miyasato fought his nerves, stood, bowed his head respectfully, and took his leave. Unhappy? That was an understatement. He would be murderous, but that didn’t matter. Miyasato did not intend to be anywhere near the old man ever again.

* * *

Miyasato hurried back through the festival crowds to the parking lot where he had left his car. He looked over his shoulder as he made his way through the busy streets, convinced that he would see someone that he knew following him. He knew that his father would find out that he was responsible for taking the sword and, when he did, his reaction would be violent. The only thing that kept him going, and put strength in his legs, was the thought of returning to Sakura, collecting Yamato and then heading straight for Narita and the ANA flight that would deliver them to their new life abroad.

He opened the driver’s side door, tossed the bag of money into the footwell of the passenger seat, and got in. He started the engine and pulled out. Traffic was heavy, just as it usually was at this time of day, and it took him thirty minutes to negotiate it. He slowed down as he ran into congestion and, trying to save time, he took out his phone and called his wife.