The Last Assassin

by Barry Eisler

  'Yeah,' I said.

  'He's here,' he said. 'Just like you thought. Chinese guy, maybe twenty or so, hundred forty, hundred and fifty pounds. All by himself, hardly drinking, just watching the stage. Hard-looking kid. Hasn't tapped his foot once since the music started.'

  I could hear the band playing from inside. The piano especially. I tried not to think about it.

  'Just the one?' I asked.

  'Yeah. He's alone.'

  'You get his picture?'

  'Three or four of them. This little Panasonic you picked up works nicely in the dark.'

  'Has he noticed you?'

  'I'm in stealth mode, partner, he doesn't even know I'm here. Plus I'm accompanied by the lovely and charming Miss Jasmine, who I met via the Internet earlier today.'

  'All right, go back inside,' I said. 'Be ready to follow him out when he leaves. I want to see where he's going, whether he stays with Midori, whether there's a handoff to anyone else.'

  'Roger that.' He closed the cell phone, nodded subtly in my direction, and went back inside.

  Forty-five minutes later, I saw patrons leaving Zinc and realized the set was over. My phone buzzed.

  'Yeah.'

  'Here he comes,' Dox said. His normally booming voice was coming through just loud enough for me to hear but not, presumably, for Miss Jasmine or anyone else. 'You should see him on the stairs right now.'

  'Midori's still in there?'

  'Still in here, talking to a few people. Nice-looking woman, if you don't mind my saying. I love that long black Asian hair. And a hell of a piano player.'

  The Chinese kid came out, walked a few yards west on Houston, and stopped to light a cigarette.

  'I see him,' I said. 'Looks like he's going to enjoy a little tobacco break.'

  'Someone ought to tell him that stuff'll kill you.'

  Sure enough, the Chinese kid leaned back against the building behind him and stood there, smoking. I smiled. It seemed to me that the primary beneficiary of Mayor Bloomberg's indoor smoking ban, aside from the hearts and lungs of all New Yorkers, was anyone running foot surveillance and needing an excuse to hang around outside a restaurant.

  'Yeah, he's not leaving,' I said. 'And as long as Midori's still in there, I don't think he's going anywhere. Stay put and let me know when she's coming out.'

  'Roger that.'

  I closed the phone and watched for a few minutes more. If someone else were going to pick up Midori from here, this would be the time for the Chinese kid to make a call. But he didn't take out a phone. I didn't know what Yamaoto was paying the triad for the surveillance, but it looked like he was only getting solo coverage for his money. Well, that suited me.

  I paid the bill, walked downstairs, and headed out of the bar. From street level I didn't have as clear a view of Zinc, so I crossed to the north side of Houston and started strolling west. I called Dox.

  'How're we doing?' I asked.

  'Looks like she's getting ready to go. Saying good night to the proprietor right now.'

  I passed a group of people smoking outside a bar and paused nearby, just someone polite enough to leave the bar for a cell phone call.

  'Here she comes,' Dox said.

  I swallowed and watched Zinc's entrance. A moment later, Midori emerged from the stairwell. She paused at the curb and looked my way. I felt my heart accelerate. But she wasn't scanning the sidewalk; she was watching the street, looking for a cab. And anyway I was keeping the smokers between us. She wouldn't have seen me.

  She was wearing a waist-length black leather jacket. Her hair was as long and luxuriant as Dox had noted and as I remembered. I wished I could have been closer. I wanted to see more.

  I couldn't help frowning at her innocence, though. She hadn't even looked both ways as she came out of the club, let alone checked the surveillance hot spots. If she had, she would have made the Chinese kid in a heartbeat. He was standing exactly where you'd expect.

  She flagged down a cab and got in. The kid made no attempt to follow. He remained for a minute, finished his cigarette, then started heading toward my position. I went into the bar and watched from behind the glass door as he passed. It was darker inside the bar than it was on the streetlight-illuminated sidewalk without, and with the light reflecting on the glass outside I knew he wouldn't be able to see me even if he were to look. But I got a good look at him.

  When he was safely past, I slipped out of the bar and fell in behind him. I knew Dox would be trailing me, per the plan.

  I hung well back in case the kid turned, but he never did. He just continued southeast into Chinatown. I watched him go into a seedy-looking noodle place on Mulberry, across from Columbus Park. I crossed the street and walked past from the park side. I saw him sit at a table across from an older, heavyset Chinese man with a bald head and a boxer's nose.

  I couldn't hear what the kid and the bald guy were saying, and even if I could it was probably in Chinese. But from their postures I sensed they didn't much care for each other. The kid sat slumped in his chair almost sullenly. At one point, he must have said something disrespectful, because the bald guy stood up and cuffed the kid across the head, twice. The shots didn't look too hard: more something intended to humiliate and establish dominance. After that the kid sat up straighter and the bald guy sat back down.

  Dox walked past the restaurant, and I knew he was taking more pictures. The flash was off and they'd be grainy, but Tatsu had people who could enhance them. Dox returned to his position behind me and we watched for a few minutes more, but there wasn't much else to learn. I noted the name and address of the place, then we linked up outside the park and headed over to a twenty-four-hour diner, where we compared notes and planned the next night.

  When we were done, Dox said, 'Assuming that's all for the night, I'd like to go back to the diner where I left the alluring Miss Jasmine. She's hot for me, I can tell.'

  '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.

  'Look, I can imagine how you feel…' I started to say.

  'No, you can't.'

  'I've told you, I'm sorry for what happened with your father. But you know I did everything I could to make things right afterward. To carry out his wishes.'

  I thought about adding, And remember, he was dying of lung cancer anyway. At least the way I did it, he didn't suffer.

  But I had a feeling she might take that as a rationalization. And maybe it was.

  'Well, you didn't do enough,' she said.

  'This is punishment, then,' I said.

  There was a long pause. She said, 'I don't want you in his life. Or mine.'

  There it was. The very thing, the very words I'd been afraid of. Hanging in the air between us.

  'What are you going to tell him?' I asked. 'That his father is dead?'

  It would be a sensible enough lie. But the thought of it horrified me. Because I realized if she said it, in many ways that mattered it would actually be so.

  'I haven't figured it all out,' she said.

  'Well, maybe you should. Maybe you should think about what something like that would cost him.'

  She laughed harshly, I supposed at my impertinence.

  'Can I ask you a question?' she asked.

  I nodded.

  'When was the last time you killed someone?'

  I tried to think of how to answer. A long moment went by.

  She laughed again. 'Don't you see right there that something's wrong? How many people have to think about a question like that?'

  I felt myself flush. 'You want to know the last time I killed someone? It was about a month ago. And the guy I killed was one of the worst bomb makers in the world. You know what killing him did? It saved who knows how many lives.'

  '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.