“We go and get your son back.”

She put her hand to her forehead. “Really? Just like that?”

Milton watched her over the lip of his coffee cup. “I’m not pretending it’ll be easy. But I’ll make them an offer they’ll have to consider.”

“You know who they are, right?” she said. “Takashi is very proud and very traditional. He won’t negotiate.”

Milton shook his head. “He’ll negotiate with me.”

“Why?”

“Because I can be persuasive. And I’m not frightened of him.”

Her brow crinkled again. “How would we get there? We can’t use the airport, can we?”

“No,” Milton said. “I don’t think that would be a good idea after what happened the last time.”

“So?”

“So I’m going to come up with an alternative.” He finished his coffee and set the cup down. “Can you give me the rest of the day?”

She leaned back in her chair and exhaled wearily. “Yes, of course. It’s not as if I have any other ideas about what to do.”

“Stay at the hotel,” Milton said. “It’d be best to stay in the villa, but the pool would probably be okay if you need a bit of fresh air. Don’t go anywhere else, not even for a walk along the beach. You’re safe here—no one except me and Victoria knows where you are. It needs to stay that way.”

47

Victoria and Jean-Michel came out of the kitchen. Jean-Michel was carrying a tray that was laden with several bowls, a decanter of juice and three glasses. He laid the tray down on the table and gestured to the coffee. “How is it?”

“Very good,” Milton said.

“It’s kopi luwak,” he said. “Traditionally sourced.”

Sakura put her cup down. “Traditionally sourced?”

“Made from coffee beans that have been partially digested by a palm civet.”

Milton paused, his second cup halfway toward his mouth. “And what’s a palm civet?”

“A viverrid,” he replied with a broad smile. Milton was none the wiser and let it show. “Kind of like a cat.”

“And they harvest the beans from where?”

Jean-Michel’s smiled widened. “Their shit,” he replied. “They pick them out. It’s a local delicacy.”

“Crappuccino,” Victoria offered with a smile.

Jean-Michel chuckled at his wife. “Would you like another cup?”

Milton couldn’t help but smile, too. “I’m good.”

Victoria laughed and, after a moment, Sakura did, too. Milton watched as, still chuckling, Jean-Michel placed small bowls in front of him, Victoria and Sakura. Inside each bowl was a handful of rice the colour of aubergine. Jean-Michel picked up a chopping board from the tray and, using a small knife, expertly sliced three bananas into slivers so thin that Milton could almost see through them. He placed the slices on top of the rice before pouring milk over the top of them.

“Coconut milk,” he announced, “black rice and banana. Bon appétit.”