Barry Eisler - The Last Assassin

A moment later, Midori and two young men came out from the back. They were all wearing black, but on Midori, as opposed to some of the poseurs at the Mercer, it looked unpretentious. God, unpretentious was the least of it, alongside that black hair and white skin it looked fantastic. The words she has a child with him flashed across her mind, and she was surprised by the intensity of jealousy that accompanied the thought.

Midori sat at the piano; the men, at the bass guitar and drums. The lights went down and they started to play. Delilah didn't know jazz the way Rain did, but she recognized the piece they began with, Bill Evans's 'Detour Ahead.'

Sure , she thought. But for whom ?

A waiter brought her the wine she had ordered. By the time she was halfway through it, some of her earlier jumpiness had started to smooth out. She realized why she was nervous: she wasn't pretending to be someone else. On assignment, she was always undercover. Cover, that was the perfect word. Something you could hide behind, something that would protect you. Something without which you would feel naked.

She'd come here with only a vague notion of what she wanted to do. Warn Midori off, scare her, say something or do something that would poison whatever was happening between her and Rain. But that was just crude reflex. Her ego wanted it so badly that it was blinding her to other possibilities.

Information, that was the thing. There was a lot she wanted to know. And she wasn't going to get it by being the hurt, angry, resentful woman she felt like. No. She would get it by putting all that aside tonight and being someone else. Someone Midori would feel comfortable with, even drawn to, someone she would talk to and open up with.

By the time the set ended and the applause was over an hour later, her nervousness was long gone. She knew who she was tonight, she knew what she wanted, she knew how she was going to get it.

Some of the patrons were lining up to exchange a word with Midori or her band. A few had bought CDs up front and were waiting to have them signed. Delilah watched. The woman was friendly and gracious with her fans, but Delilah could tell there was a professional façade she stood behind while chatting with them. The façade wasn't fake, exactly, the warmth was certainly real enough – but it wasn't the real woman, either. Delilah smiled slightly. Seeing the public display would make it that much easier to know when she had burrowed through to the private person beneath.

The guy in the leather jacket came over and said, 'Looks like whoever he was, he did lose his mind. You feel like a drink?'

Delilah smiled. She knew he'd been watching, and that he'd noticed she was still alone. She liked that he asked again. Someone with a little less confidence might have just sent a drink over at some point. She got that all the time and hated it. It was so lame, a way of trying to force an obligation on someone from a safe distance.

'Thanks for asking,' Delilah said. 'But I'm going to meet him now. I just want to talk to Midori first.'

'Okay…' he said, that nice smile lingering, hoping for more.

Delilah smiled back to let him know she was flattered – he deserved that. But she also dipped her head to let him know the answer was final. He said a gracious good night and they were done.

When the line had dwindled, Delilah got up and walked over. She knew Midori had noticed her during the performance, and then afterward, and now the woman offered a smile, part welcome, part apology for having kept her waiting, part curiosity about who this attractive woman alone might be.

Delilah smiled back and said in a heavier than usual Parisian accent, 'I have to tell you, you play beautifully. I'm so glad I had to come to New York on the same night you were performing.'

Midori said, 'Thank you. Where are you from?'

'Paris.'

'You've heard of me in France? I'm flattered.'

Yes, that was the idea.

'I have friends all over the world who recommend music to me,' Delilah said. 'A girlfriend in Tokyo told me I would like you, so I went online and bought your CD Another Time. I love it. I come to Manhattan a few times a year, but this is the first time we've overlapped.'

There, a few more brushstrokes to fill in the canvas. Friends all over the world: cosmopolitan. Interested in music: sophisticated. Frequent trips abroad: wealth, status, an important job, perhaps? With that conjoining we at the end subtly implying that Delilah's intriguing international existence might extend also to Midori.

And of course Delilah had as always researched all these points: the name of Midori's album, online availability, etc. She was even ready to talk about her friend in Tokyo, but Midori didn't follow up on that. Instead she asked, 'What brings you to Manhattan from Paris?'

'I'm a fashion scout for some of the boutiques there. I travel around and photograph native clothing styles, art… anything that inspires the Paris designers. The business meetings are usually in New York, Milan…'

The story was true, too. Delilah really did have relationships with some of the Paris designers, and they really did use her photos. A cover wasn't worth much if you didn't live it.

'Wow,' Midori said. 'That sounds like a fabulous job.'

'I can't complain. But it feels boring compared to what you do.'

Midori laughed. 'I don't know about that.'

'Really. I would kill to have a talent like yours.'

'Well, I guess I can't complain, either.'

'Where did you learn to play? And why jazz? Did you know when you were a child that… I'm sorry, you must get this all the time.'

Right. Gorgeous, sophisticated, intriguing women who were ten times more interested in talking about Midori than they were about themselves? Delilah doubted it.

Midori laughed again. 'Not really, no.'

'Well, I'd love to hear more. Look, I know it's late, and you probably get this all the time, too, but… is there somewhere around here we could get a drink? I would really enjoy that. My name is Laure, by the way.'

Midori paused, then said, 'Sure, why not. Let me just call the nanny first, make sure she can stay a little longer.'

Delilah raised her eyebrows innocently. 'Oh, you have kids?'

Midori nodded. 'Baby boy. Hang on.' She pulled out a mobile phone and walked a little way off. After a moment, she came back. 'Okay, we're fine. How about L'Angolo, right next door? It's a neighborhood kind of place, if you like.'

'That sounds great.'

'Just give me a few minutes, then.'

Delilah nodded. Midori disappeared in back for a moment, then came out in a waist-length black leather jacket. They headed for the door. A few more patrons thanked Midori on the way out. She got hugs from the bassist and the drummer. The bartender waved and the bouncer gave her a European double kiss. She was obviously liked here, and at ease. It was her world.

They walked over to the bar Midori had in mind. Delilah unobtrusively checked their surroundings as they moved. She noted that Midori did not.

The bar was nice – a neighborhood place, as Midori had said. It was old and dark, with couches and other upholstered furniture arranged in clusters across an expanse of white tiled floor. The sounds of conversation and music were nicely balanced. You could talk here without shouting.

They sat at a table in one of the corners. Delilah took one end of a couch, her back to the wall; Midori, an overstuffed adjacent chair, her back to the window. Delilah paused for a moment to listen, then said, 'Good song. Oystein Sevag. Learned about him from a friend in Oslo.'

'So it's not just jazz, then?'

Delilah smiled. 'Oh, no. I like everything.' She picked up a menu. 'Well? What do you feel like?'

'Oh, I don't know. Probably just a glass of wine.'