The second problem was Victoria’s relationship with the premans; Milton knew that they wouldn’t return the drugs willingly, and that meant that he would have to take them. That might cause problems for her. Finally, helping Sakura to complete the delivery relied upon the assumption that the Nishimoto-kai would agree to return her son when she was done. Why would they do that? Sakura would have proven that she was an effective courier; she was beautiful and had a regal bearing about her that was a million miles away from the usual image of a mule. There was value in that, and Milton doubted that the men who controlled her would willingly give her up. He suspected that they would force her to work for them either until she was caught or until, as had so nearly happened this time, something went wrong and she died.

There was a third option, and it was the only one that he really considered viable. He would accompany Sakura to Tokyo and then either mediate for her or persuade the men holding her son that they should reconsider the arrangement.

Milton reached the three-mile point and slowed to a halt. He stood in the warm surf, took a few deep breaths, and then turned and set off back to the villa.

* * *

Milton returned to his starting point and pulled the earbuds from his ears. He took off his T-shirt and used it to mop the sweat from his face. It was already hot, and the mercury promised to climb higher. He dumped the shirt, his phone and the earbuds on the beach and walked out into the surf. He felt the warmth of the water on his calves and then, as he strode deeper, past his knees and then up to his waist and, finally, his neck. He felt the fine sand between his toes and the warmth of the sun on his face.

He had tried not to think too hard about the conclusion to their discussion last night. Sakura had stood up and turned off the small side light next to the bed. She had faced Milton, her hands on the cotton belt that fastened her robe across her midriff. Milton knew that she was about to undo it, and had taken her hands, shaking his head as he did so. Sakura had looked confused and protested that she wanted to thank him. He had smiled at her and said thanks were unnecessary, and certainly not like that. She had stood before him for a few moments longer, then removed her hands from his and pulled down the bedsheet. She had been asleep within moments of her head touching the pillow.