•

‘Sarah?’ Shoji repeated.

Mizuki laughed. ‘The manager told me not to use a Japanese name. People would get confused, he said, so he picked an English name for me.’

‘But why Sarah?’

‘When I came to sign the contract, his radio was playing a Sarah Vaughan number. Are you familiar with her?’

‘I’ve heard the name, but I can’t say I remember her songs. I don’t usually listen to jazz.’

‘I don’t know much about it either, but I enjoy listening to all kinds of music. I’ve played piano since I was four. The usual classical stuff. My parents forced me to go to music lessons. I didn’t enjoy it, but I couldn’t say no.’

‘You must be good if you trained from such a young age,’ Shoji said politely.

She shook her head. ‘I was in New York for a few years, and during that period I stopped playing. Since then, my fingers don’t move the way they used to.’

‘That’s a pity.’

‘What about you?’ she asked. ‘Do you play any musical instruments?’

‘Not really,’ he said, and paused. ‘My mother used to be a professional koto player, but I didn’t inherit her talent. Didn’t I tell you I’m a boring guy?’

Mizuki stared off into the distance. ‘Talent is just hard work and confidence.’

Shoji went quiet. Had he ever worked hard at anything? Not really. His life so far has been relatively easy.

She glanced at her watch. ‘I’m sorry, it’s time for me to leave,’ she said, getting up. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

He stood, too, and accompanied her to the reception area. Before she left, he told her, ‘You’ve got to tell me the rest of the story.’

‘I will,’ she promised him with a smile before closing the front door.

He caught a glimpse of a black Bentley with a chauffeur on the road.

After Mizuki left, Shoji returned to the waiting room and spent the rest of the day there. As usual, there weren’t any requests for him from other clients, but he wasn’t worried. He had Mizuki. That was more than enough for him. With a client like her, he didn’t need anyone else.

But Mizuki didn’t return the day after, nor the day after that.

CHAPTER 6

THE POLITE GIANT

‘Mr Arai, someone has requested you.’

Shoji nodded at Mr Sato. At last. He had been worried about Mizuki. Shoji stood and followed Mr Sato out of the waiting room. The older man was impeccably dressed as usual, though there was always something about him that made Shoji uneasy. They went to a table, but the person who was waiting there wasn’t Mizuki. It was Madam, and next to her sat a large, middle-aged man with sleek, grey hair.

He had an old, deep scar underneath his left ear, and wore a tailored black suit paired with a grey woollen shawl. A gold Rolex circled his wrist.

The man looked at Shoji. ‘Take a seat.’

His stern tone made it sound like he was giving a command. His eyes were narrow and deep, and they reminded Shoji of that man.