The Last Assassin

'Plus her meter is running,' I suggested.

He laughed. 'Yeah, and she's got the kind of meter I like to feed. See you tomorrow, amigo.'

While Dox was off getting my money's worth, I went to an Internet cafe to upload the photos and other information to Tatsu.

When the message and upload were done, I called Tatsu to give him a heads-up to check our bulletin board. He didn't sound good when I spoke to him. His normally quiet but assured voice was raspy and he sounded like he was making an effort to talk. When I asked, he told me it was the flu.

Yeah, we were both getting older. I wanted to be done with this soon.

7

The next morning, I went to another Internet cafe and checked the bulletin board. There was a message waiting: the Chinese kid's name was Eddie Wong. He was a ma jai, a foot soldier with a New York branch of United Bamboo, the Taiwanese triad, and the noodle place on Mulberry was their headquarters. Wong was only twenty-two, but he had an extensive criminal record in his hometown of Taipei, mostly drug smuggling but also extortion. He was known to carry a Balisong, the Filipino butterfly knife, and apparently was quick to use it.

The bald guy I'd seen him talking to was Waiyee Chan, the local gang's dai dai lo, or leader. If the gang leader was meeting directly with a mere soldier, Tatsu suggested, the matter must be important to the leader personally. United Bamboo had been at war with the yakuza in Tokyo, but currently there was an uneasy accommodation there. Tatsu speculated that the lull was the result of United Bamboo's assistance to Yamaoto in New York in exchange for some quid pro quo in Japan, just as Dox and I had speculated earlier. He was trying to find out more.

That night, Dox and I set up as we had the previous evening. This time, when Dox called me to confirm that Wong was at Zinc again, I got up and headed to the West Village.

I was more heavily disguised than before. I had a wig sprouting from under the baseball cap, horn-rimmed glasses, and two layers of thick fleece under the windbreaker that added the appearance of twenty-five or thirty pounds. I reconnoitered the area on foot, my posture, gait, and presence maximally unobtrusive. I checked the spots I would have used to watch the apartment. I even checked the local watering holes in case Wong had a partner who was waiting in the area to pick Midori up after her performance at Zinc. Everything was clear. I parked myself in a jazz joint called 55 Club a block from her building and waited.

A half-hour later my phone buzzed. I went outside to answer it.

'Set's over,' Dox said. 'Midori just got in a cab.'

'And our friend?'

'He's staying put for the moment. Just like last night.'

'Has he used a phone?'

'No.'

'All right. Sounds like we're in business.'

'You know, I've been thinking. Just because he didn't go there last night doesn't mean he's going to do the same tonight. What if…'

'Look, if he hasn't followed her yet, he's not going to. Not tonight, anyway. And I've checked all the possible spots around her apartment. It's clear. This is my chance.'

'Yeah, but…'

'I'll be fine.'

'I'm not saying you won't. But why don't I just swing by and have a look anyway. Can't hurt to have me around.'

'I appreciate that. But I'd rather… do this alone. You know?'

There was a pause. Then he sighed and said, 'It's your party, man.'

Part of me was trying to speak up, to tell me he was right, it couldn't hurt. But things felt under control. Midori would either invite me inside or send me packing. All I needed was a minute either way.

'I'll call you after,' I told him. 'I'll let you know.'

'All right. Be careful, partner.'

I closed the phone and turned it off. This was apt to be delicate and I didn't want any interruptions.

I walked partway down the street and pulled off the baseball cap and wig. I started to pocket the wig, but then imagined Midori seeing it protruding from one of my pockets and decided to toss it instead. It would have made her too suspicious, and at this point it had served its purpose. I stuffed the baseball cap in one of the windbreaker's pockets. I waited. A few minutes later, a cab approached from down the street. I started walking toward it.

The cab stopped in front of Midori's building. The door opened. I paused ten feet away on the sidewalk.

Midori got out. She thanked the driver and closed the door. The cab pulled away.

Midori looked up and saw me. She froze.

I tried to say something, but nothing came out. A long moment went by.

Finally I said, 'Midori.'

She watched me. I wanted to look around, to check my surroundings. I fought the urge. She had always hated that kind of awareness. It made her distrust me.

'Why are you here?' she asked.

'You know why.'

'How did you…' she started to say, then stopped. She'd probably decided it didn't really matter. Or that she didn't want to know.

'Can I come up?'

She was silent.

'Just for a minute,' I heard myself saying.

After a moment, she nodded. We went inside. Although I hadn't seen any cameras, I assumed they would have some sort of remote security in the lobby and I kept my head down. Midori said, 'Hello, Ken,' to the doorman, and we got in the elevator. She didn't look at me on the ride up. We didn't speak.

We got out on the seventeenth floor and walked down the corridor. She unlocked a door and we stepped into a nicely furnished living room. Dark wood floors, Gabbeh rugs, black-and-white photos of leafless winter trees. Comfortable-looking upholstered chair and couch. Some sort of indoor infant swing set was parked in a corner, surrounded by brightly colored toys. We took off our jackets and shoes and moved inside. I peeled off the double fleece, too. I didn't need it now and it was warm in the apartment.

A pretty brown-skinned woman emerged from behind the door to what I assumed was a bedroom. She glanced at me, then looked at Midori.

'Everything okay, Digne?' Midori asked.

The woman nodded. 'The little angel is sleeping. I give him a big bottle before he goes to sleep.'

Her accent was Latina. I guessed El Salvador.

Midori nodded. 'Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow night?'

'Of course.' The woman picked up a coat from the couch, slipped on her shoes, and paused at the door. She smiled and said, 'Oyasumi nasai,' with a passable Japanese accent. Good night.

Midori smiled back and said, 'Buenas noches.'

The woman closed the door behind her.

We stood there. I heard a clock ticking on the wall.

'How… how old is he?' I asked, after a moment.

'Fifteen months.'

That would be about right. Almost exactly two years since our last night in Tokyo.

'I heard you call him Koichiro,' I said, remembering my conversation with Tatsu.

She nodded.

'It's a good name.'

She nodded again.

I tried to think of something that wouldn't sound banal. Nothing would come.

'You're happy?' I asked.

Still just a nod.

'Damn it, Midori, will you at least say something to me?'

'Your minute is up.'

I glanced away, then back to her. 'You don't really mean that.'

'Maybe you forgot. You killed my father.'

I imagined myself saying, Come on, haven't we been over all that? I decided it would be the wrong approach.

'Then why did you have the baby?' I asked.

She looked at me, her expression frozen in neutral. 'When I learned I was pregnant,' she said, 'I realized I wanted a baby. The fact that it was your baby was incidental.'

She was being so hurtful, it occurred to me that maybe it was deliberate. That she was protecting herself from something she was afraid of.