Barry Eisler - The Last Assassin

'That's it?'

I heard the sarcasm. 'Yeah.'

'Is this for Christmas? I don't know if I can get it all in a stocking…'

'I need it by tomorrow night.'

'John, come on.'

Kanezaki liked to play up the difficulty of whatever favor he was asked, as a way of extracting greater concessions in return. He might have been doing it now. Or my request might really have posed a problem. It didn't matter. I didn't have time to screw around.

'Can you do this?' I asked. 'If you can't, I'll figure something else out.'

'I'm not saying I can't do it…'

'Then what are you saying?'

'Look, don't get short with me. Checking out that kind of hardware isn't like borrowing a few yen from petty cash.'

'I imagine it's not.'

'If I can do this, you're going to owe me.'

'Owe you what?'

'A favor. A job.'

Your soul, I heard. My hopes for Midori and Koichiro seemed to recede in the distance, like the light going out on a television screen.

Well, I shouldn't have been surprised. I could have argued with him, but there were things more important than my soul in play at the moment.

'If that's the way you want to do it,' I said. My voice sounded far away.

'Is that a yes?'

I suddenly and badly wanted to tell him Fuck you. Tell him in person, in my own special way.

Instead I simply said, 'Yes.'

'Okay. How long are you going to need this stuff?'

'Seventy-two hours, if that.'

A pause. 'Is any of this going to come back to bite me on the ass?'

'Not if it goes well.'

He laughed. 'God, I feel so much better now.'

'Yeah, me too,' I said.

'Let me see what I can do. Call me tomorrow afternoon.'

'I'll post it on the bulletin board, too. Just to make sure you've got it all.'

'Good enough.'

I hung up and, out of habit, wiped down the phone.

I stopped by an Internet cafe and posted the shopping list on the bulletin board we used. After that, there was nothing to do except try to sleep.

I went back to the hotel and took a molten bath. It cooked the tension out of my muscles, and afterward, as I lay in bed, my body was almost rubbery with relaxation. But my mind refused to shut down. I kept picturing Koichiro's face, and remembering the way he had nuzzled closer when I held him. I stared at the ceiling for a long time, and at some point I realized that, like Tatsu, I was whispering Onegai shimasu, over and over. Please. Please.

Delilah woke from a nap in her room at the Mercer Hotel in SoHo Friday night. She hadn't slept at all on the flight over, but had dropped off instantly at the hotel after checking in and unpacking. It was early morning back in Paris now, and her body felt ready to go.

She opened the curtains and looked out onto what the hotel called a 'courtyard view.' Actually, the view wasn't bad. There really was a courtyard, pretty in the light of a gibbous moon, and she would rather face a quiet courtyard than a noisy street.

She liked the hotel. It was a little on the hip side – aspiring-actor doormen in black turtlenecks, a condom provided along with the cotton swabs in the bathroom, that kind of thing – but this was SoHo, after all, and it felt right.

She showered, blow-dried her hair, and put on just a little makeup – mascara, blush, a hint of liner for drama, that's all. Then a few drops of her favorite perfume – something she'd had made just for her at Guerlain and which happened to be what she wore for Rain. She knew he liked it, and that knowledge would feel good in the back of her mind.

She walked into the bedroom, laid out the clothes she was thinking about, and looked them over: dark, snug jeans, definitely. Her favorite boots, mahogany brown with high heels, definitely. Now the top. Hmm, there was the vintage silk Chanel jacket she had picked up at Les 3 Marches de Catherine B on the Rue Guisarde; that was certainly gorgeous. But… no, maybe the glass-beaded detailing would be a bit too fabulous for a jazz bar in SoHo. So… yes, better to go with the Santa Eulalia bolero. It was a lush, chocolate brown that looked great with her hair and would work with the jeans, too. Rain had just bought it for her in Passeig de Gràcia in Barcelona… that would also feel good tonight. And underneath… yes, the Sabbia Rosa dark brown silk camisole and matching bra and thong panties; they were sexy even just lying there on the bed. Okay.

She was more used to dressing for men than for women, but when she'd put it all on and checked herself in the mirror, she felt she'd gotten it just right. The look was sexy, but in a quiet way, like something she would do more to please herself than out of concern for anyone else.

She grabbed the Jekel shearling coat she had brought and took the elevator down to the lobby. Some of the hipsters chatting there eyed her as she passed, probably wondering whether she was one of the celebrities the hotel was known for. She was used to that kind of reaction and ordinarily it barely registered, but this time it felt good. She kept moving without returning any of the looks.

According to Midori's website, tonight was the last of four consecutive shows at a nearby bar called Zinc. So there was a little over an hour to kill before the second set. Just enough time for a bite to eat. Delilah found a place called The Cupping Room, on West Broadway and Broome, which had exactly the kind of quiet, low-key atmosphere she wanted. She ordered a salad and marinated baby lamb chops and a glass of the house red. She thought while she ate, but arrived at no conclusions.

When she was done, she walked the few blocks to Zinc. She looked around inside but the second set hadn't started yet and Midori must have been somewhere in back. She half-expected to see Rain. She didn't know when he was leaving for Tokyo. Well, if he showed up, the hell with it, he could just sort out the situation himself. She had as much right to be here as he did.

The place was mostly full, but there was an open seat at the front of the room, near the stage, and she took it. Her heart was beating moderately hard and she realized she was nervous. It almost made her laugh. She'd handled assignments where if she'd slipped, or if anyone had otherwise caught on to her, she would have been killed without question. But here she was, with the stakes trivial by comparison, and she had an amateur's shakes. It was ridiculous. She ordered another red wine.

She felt men at some of the tables watching her, and knew a few of them would be trying to get up their courage to approach. It was like that whenever she went out by herself. Invariably one man would come forward. If she liked him, which was rare, she would have a companion. If she didn't like him, she would send him off and after that the others would all be afraid to try.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone get up two tables down. The one with the short dark hair and stubble in the beat-up leather jacket, she predicted. She had noticed him on the way in, as she was scoping the room for any problems.

She was right. The man stood a respectful but not timorous distance from her table and said, 'Excuse me.'

Delilah looked at him and raised her eyebrows.

'You're probably waiting for someone,' he went on, with a smile, 'but if you're not, my friends and I would love to have you join us at our table. Are you a fan of Midori's?'

Actually, he was kind of cute. She liked the jacket and he had an appealing bad-boy smile. But not tonight.

'I'm just getting to know her,' Delilah said. 'And I am waiting for someone. But that was nice of you. Thanks.'

The man nodded. 'Well, if for some reason he loses his mind and doesn't show up, we're two tables down.'

Delilah said, 'Thank you.' This time the thanks was a dismissal. The man gave her another smile and left.