‘In exchange for the release of Dr Morrisette and Mr Miller, he will give you the use of the escape plan he prepared for himself. It will protect you against any victims of the Emergence fraud who come after you and will supply you with a safe and comfortable retirement.’

‘He offers me the use of the rat-hole he planned to crawl into. Is that correct?’

‘Since you know him well, you will appreciate that he would not have skimped on the arrangements he made for himself.’

‘A luxurious rat-hole, then. Located where?’

‘I do not know. Details will be supplied when the hostages are released.’

‘It will not be in Japan, though, I assume.’

‘No.’

‘My father died before I was born, fighting to defend the fatherland against the Americans. You wish me to dishonour his memory by fleeing Japan in order to escape my enemies?’

‘It is a way out for you, Nishizaki-san.’

‘A way out of what? Dr Morrisette’s claims about Emergence have not yet reached any of our clients.’

‘But Driscoll-san will ensure they reach them if you do not release her and Mr Miller.’

‘Mr Miller. Driscoll’s son. The son he has never met. It is late for him to discover the ties of blood. Perhaps they bind tighter in such cases.’ Nishizaki looked more intently at her than he had so far. ‘You have no children, Wada?’

‘I think you know I do not.’

‘Because you were married to a twelve years dying husband.’

He was trying to rile her. He wasn’t going to succeed. ‘What Driscoll-san is offering you is what you need to survive, Nishizaki-san. That is the truth.’

‘Is there to be money as well, to sweeten this pill you tell me I must swallow?’

‘There can be.’

‘And tell me, Wada, do you want anything for yourself?’

This was the moment to say what she wanted. But the words wouldn’t come. She sensed he was merely awaiting her demands in order to reject them.

They looked at each other in silence down the reflective length of the table. It was raining outside now. The light had dulled in the room. Tears of rain streaked the windows.

‘How did Ohara and Zayala die?’ he asked suddenly.

‘I am not here to speak of them.’

‘How did they die – and you survive?’

‘Some things cannot be accounted for.’

‘But their deaths can be accounted for. By you.’

Wada considered her answer carefully. But, when it came, it felt instinctive. ‘Chijimatsu. Enatsu. Agatsuma. Hirotsu. Oto—’

‘Enough.’ Nishizaki spat out the word.

‘You remember them?’ Wada remembered them. They were among the many victims of Nishizaki whose untimely deaths Kodaka had listed in the kage-boshi file.

‘I remember everyone who has challenged or defied me.’

‘Do you wish to account for their deaths?’