“It’s one of the things I’ve always liked about you, Kaito. You’re not stupid. Did you check luggage?”

“No.”

“Come out through baggage claim. I’m in a blue BMW.”

When he stepped out onto the sidewalk, Randi leaped from the car in a silver miniskirt that bordered on the obscene. She had long blonde hair that Yoshima suspected was a wig and narrow heels that he noted would make it hard for her to move quickly—a detail he filed away in the chance it might become useful in the future.

She threw her arms around him and kissed him hard on the lips. She was hardly the first blonde to pick him up from the airport this way, and it would look completely normal to anyone who might be watching.

She had a cell phone in one hand, and he focused on it for a moment while playing along with the charade she’d crafted. Undoubtedly the detonator for the device on his neck was integrated into the phone but he had no way of knowing how it worked. Did she have to push a button? Or perhaps she was already pushing the button, and it was releasing it that would separate his vertebrae.

“Why don’t you drive, sweetie?” she said, climbing into the passenger seat and closing the door.

It started to rain while he was standing there and he walked deliberately around the back of the vehicle, tossing his hand luggage into the backseat and then slipping behind the wheel.

“It’s good to see you,” she said as they merged into traffic. “How long has it been? Four years?”

He shook his head. “You’re forgetting Cambodia.”

“Oh, God, you’re right. It was a hundred and six degrees with ninety percent humidity. And don’t even get me started on the snakes.”

“Is the car clean?” he asked.

“I got it out of the lot, so I assume it is. But with this police state you live in, it’s hard to say for sure.”

“You stole it?”

“Me? You’re the one driving.” She flashed a broad smile. “Relax. I’ll return it when I catch my flight tomorrow morning.”

“After you’ve killed me?”

“For God’s sake, Kaito. Can’t a girl visit an old friend? Catch up a little?”

He didn’t respond.

“Is your condo clean?”

“Yes.”

“Great. We’ll do our catching up there.”

18

18

Northeastern Japan

General Masao Takahashi sat silently in the open vehicle, looking ahead at the rail it rode on disappearing into the gloom.

The tunnel was almost perfectly round and five meters in diameter, dug into a mountainside in a remote part of Japan. Widely spaced overhead lights intermittently illuminated the rock walls and the security detail seated around him. Beyond that, there was nothing.