The Last Assassin

'I imagine that's what all killers tell themselves.'

The anger I'd been trying to contain suddenly burst through. 'And that's what I imagine all yuppie jazz pianists tell themselves, because it makes them feel so fucking superior.'

She glared at me. Good, I thought. I needed that.

'Maybe you're right,' I said. 'Maybe my problem is rationalization. But yours is denial. You think you can live a squeaky-clean life like this one without someone else getting his hands dirty? Do you really want Koichiro to grow up in a world where no one's out there trying to cull the same kinds of people who leveled the towers just two miles south of here?'

We were silent for a moment, glaring at each other, breathing hard.

'But you're still killing people,' she said.

I closed my eyes. 'Look, I've been trying to change. To do something good. And a lot of that… a lot of that is because of you. And your father.'

There was another pause. She said, 'Maybe you're right, maybe what you're doing keeps children like Koichiro safe in their beds at night. But that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about you. The life you lead and the things you do, it would put Koichiro himself at risk. Can't you see that?'

I almost sagged under the weight of her words. After all, hadn't I needed to find the gaps in Yamaoto's surveillance just to achieve this single clumsy visit?

'I know you care about me,' she went on. 'And that, even though you haven't met him, you care about Koichiro. Why would you want to put us in danger?'

I closed my eyes and exhaled. I had no argument. She was right. I wondered what the hell I'd been thinking, why I had come here.

A long, silent moment spun out.

'All right,' I said, nodding. 'Okay.'

She looked at me. I saw sympathy in her eyes and it hurt.

'Thank you,' she said.

I nodded again. 'Could I just see… my son?'

'I don't think…'

I looked at her. 'Please. Don't turn me away without that.'

After a long moment, she gestured toward the door Digne had come through earlier. She turned and I followed her.

It was a small bedroom in the corner of the building, with curtained windows on two of its walls. I saw a crib, a changing table, a rocking chair. A lamp shaped like a bunny had been turned to a low, comforting setting.

We walked over to the crib. I put my hands on the edge and looked down into it.

On the mattress, covered in a blue fleece blanket, was a little person with a dark head of hair. His eyes were shut and he had a tiny nose and I could see his chest rising and falling as he slept.

For the first time, I understood that all of this was real. This child was mine. I was his father.

I felt tears trying to surface and blinked them down I couldn't remember the last time I'd cried and I wasn't going to start tonight, in front of Midori.

'Could I… would it be all right if…' I started to say.

Midori looked at me, then nodded. She reached into the crib and carefully lifted out Koichiro, still wrapped in his blue blanket. She kissed him softly on the forehead, then looked at me again. Her eyes were wide and honest and I saw that she was afraid. But she was doing this anyway. Fuck, I had to blink again.

She eased the baby into my arms and stayed close, watching. The boy let out a long sigh in his sleep and turned toward me as though searching for warmth. I looked at him and suddenly the tears were flowing down my cheeks and I couldn't stop them. I couldn't even wipe them away. All I could do was blink to clear my eyes and look at that little face until I had to blink again.

I don't know how long we stood like that. At some point Midori put her hand on my shoulder and I became aware of an ache in my jaw from the way I had been clenching it. I handed Koichiro back to her and wiped my face while she got him settled again in his crib.

We went back into the living room. Midori closed the door behind us.

I looked up at the ceiling and deliberately breathed in and out, in and out, trying to steady myself. A hundred jumbled thoughts were pinballing through my brain.

'What if…' I started to say, then thought better of it.

'What?'

I looked at her. 'What if I could get out of the life? Really out of it'

She sighed. 'I don't believe you can.'

'But what if I could.'

A long moment went by. Finally she said, 'I guess we'd have to see then.'

I wanted her to say more, but I was afraid to ask.

There was a pad of paper and a pen on the coffee table next to the couch. I walked over and wrote down my cell phone number.

'Here,' I said. 'If you ever need help, with anything, call me.'

She took the piece of paper. 'Is this a phone number?'

'Yeah. Cell phone. If I don't answer, leave a voice mail. I check it all the time.'

'Wow, a number where I can actually call you,' she said, with a small smile. 'I guess that's progress.'

I smiled back. 'Told you I could change.'

'We'll see.'

I reached out and touched her shoulder.

'Thank you,' I said.

She nodded.

I was still touching her shoulder. I realized she hadn't objected.

I moved closer, and she didn't step back.

I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed. Then, after a moment, she was squeezing me, too.

We stood like that for a while, just holding each other. I kissed her forehead, then her cheek. Then her forehead again. She smelled good, she smelled the way I remembered.

She whispered, 'Jun, don't.'

She was the only one who called me by the diminutive of Junichi, my Japanese given name. It felt good to hear her say it.

I kissed her eyelids. Again she said, 'Don't.'

I didn't care. I didn't care about anything. I kissed her softly on the lips. She didn't kiss me back, but she didn't move away, either. I could hear her breathing.

She put a hand on my chest. I thought she was going to push me away, but she left it there. It felt warm through my shirt.

I kissed her again. This time she made a sound that was somewhere between a whimper and a reproach and suddenly seized the sides of my head with both hands. Then she was kissing me back, kissing me hard.

I put my hands on her and she pressed against me. But when I started to lift her shirt out of her jeans, she twisted away.

'Jun, stop. We have to stop.'

I nodded, breathing hard. 'Yeah,' I said.

'You need to go. Please.'

I blinked and shook my head. 'Will you call me?' I asked.

'Will you get out of the life?'

'I'll try.'

'Then you call me. When you're out.'

I couldn't ask for more than that. I walked to the door and pulled on my shoes, the fleeces, and the jacket. I nodded to her. She nodded back. Neither of us spoke.

I got the baseball cap on in the elevator and moved through the lobby with my head down. I stepped outside and checked the hot spots. All clear. I headed east. The chill air hit my face but I was barely aware of it. I felt exhausted, empty. I should have known I wasn't in the right condition to protect myself. I should have known what was going to happen next.

Midori stood and watched the door for a long time after Rain left. He was gone as suddenly as he had appeared, but his presence lingered everywhere and changed everything, from the feel of her lips and tongue to the contours of the apartment to her thoughts of the future.

How many times had she told herself she hated him, for what he did to her father, for the lies he told her afterward, for everything he was? And yet, not two minutes earlier, she had been kissing him with such abandon that she was still light-headed from it. How the hell had she summoned the will to send him away? She wished for a moment she hadn't, and the thought made her feel ashamed.

She sat on the couch, closed her eyes, and put her head in her hands. That thing he had said about what she was going to tell Koichiro about his father had stung. She had considered the issue many times, of course, but could never come up with a comfortable answer. It was easier to just defer things, to tell herself she would figure it out as Koichiro got older, but now she wasn't sure.