“That’s what our new life looks like. It gets us away from here, away from my father, your father, my brother—all of it.”

She leaned over and kissed him. “I can’t believe it.”

“Did you transfer our savings?”

“I did.”

“But you left a little for emergencies?”

She said that she had. They had a little money themselves, and, rather than lose it, they had agreed to move it into a Swiss bank account, where it would be difficult to trace. It felt like another definitive step on the way to their departure, the severing of one of the final ties to Tokyo and their old lives.

Miyasato put the car into drive and pressed down on the accelerator.

They just had one more thing to do.

* * *

Miyasato reversed the car into the space that came with their nanny’s house and turned off the engine.

“We need to be in and out,” he said. “No delays. We get Yamato, pay Ichika and go.”

“I know,” Sakura said. “You don’t have to remind me.”

“I know I don’t.” Miyasato leaned across the car so that he could kiss his wife. He held his palm against her cheek and looked into her eyes. “Nearly there. This time tomorrow, we’ll be in London.”

She nodded and smiled at him. He could see the uneasiness in her eyes and couldn’t really blame her for it. He was uneasy too, but, he reminded himself, the worst of it was over. The transaction was done, he had the money they needed, and now they just needed to collect their son and get to the airport.

He got out of the car and waited for Sakura before they both walked quickly to the front door. He wondered, again, whether he should have suggested that Sakura take Yamato to the bank with her, but then discounted it as fruitless second-guessing. They had talked about it, and Sakura had argued that she would be much faster without him. She was probably right, he thought, although it was difficult not to think that they could be on the way to Narita now if Yamato had been with her. Never mind.

Miyasato opened the door and stood to the side so that Sakura could go in first.

“Ichika? We’re here. Where—”

Sakura screamed.

Miyasato stepped to the side so that he could look around her.

Their nanny, Ichika, was lying face down on the carpet in the middle of the living room. Blood had gathered around her head and shoulders, and Miyasato could see from the bloody furrow beneath her chin that her throat had been slit.