The Last Assassin

15

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.

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.'

'Should we see if they have a Beaujolais? The Nouveaux just came out, and there are some fun ones this year.'

'That sounds great.'

Delilah looked at the menu and was pleased to see that they had the Domaine Dupeuble, which she thought was among the best of the recent harvest. When the waitress came over, Delilah ordered a bottle. That might have been more than Midori had in mind, but she didn't object.

'How do you like New York?' Delilah asked. 'Your website says you're originally from Tokyo.'

'I love it. This is the second time I've lived here, and it feels like another home.'

'What brought you back?'

'Mostly a job opportunity.' The reply had been smooth enough, but Delilah thought Midori's features had clouded just for an instant as she recalled the circumstances of that move. Interesting.

The waitress brought the wine and moved off. Delilah picked up her glass. 'Cheers,' she said. 'It's very good to meet you.'

'Likewise,' Midori said. They touched glasses and drank.

Delilah knew to start slowly. The secret to seduction isn't really the target's attraction to the seducer. It's more how the seducer makes the target feel about himself. Or, in this case, herself. Yes, looks and appearance are important, but only as a foundation. What has to follow is the feeling of pleasure and flattery brought on by the notion that such an alluring creature could be so genuinely fascinated with me. Making someone feel important, worthwhile, the center of a universe to which he would ordinarily fear to aspire… that was a seduction.

So during their first, and then their second, glass of wine, Delilah asked mostly about Midori's jazz background. Delilah was a fan, after all, and the questions were natural enough. Where did you learn to play the piano? What's the connection to New York? What attracted you to jazz? Who are your influences? What does it feel like to compose a song?

Unlike most men, Midori wasn't entirely blinded by Delilah's attention. She asked lots of questions of her own. But Delilah always managed to turn the conversation back to Midori.

When they had poured out the last of the bottle, Delilah glanced at Midori's hand, as though noticing for the first time that she didn't have a ring. 'Are you married?' she asked.

Midori shook her head. 'No.'

'Forgive me. You had mentioned a baby, so…'

'Nothing to forgive. The father lives in Japan.'

Delilah thought it had the feeling of a rehearsed response. It was just deliberately vague enough to ward off further inquiries without causing discomfort.

'That must be hard,' Delilah said.

'No. It's actually for the best.'

Midori offered nothing further, and Delilah understood that, even buzzed from the wine and Delilah's evident interest, Midori wasn't inclined to talk about this.

Change tack. Try a revelation, a shared confidence.

'My mother raised me alone,' Delilah said, now entirely improvising. 'When I was a girl she wouldn't talk about my father.'

Midori leaned forward slightly. 'Why?'

'Well, I didn't find out until much later. My father left her pregnant with me for another woman.'

'Did you… are you in touch with him now?'

Hmm. Midori had just jumped about two conversational steps ahead of what Delilah had been expecting. Delilah's story had obviously tapped into something that was on Midori's mind.

'I've seen him,' Delilah said, holding back to see whether her story provoked enough curiosity to get Midori to ask more questions.

It did. Midori asked, 'How was that? I mean, if I'm not being too personal.'

Yes, this subject was definitely on the woman's mind. Interesting. Delilah shook her head and said, 'It was okay. He'd like to have a relationship now, but I don't know. I grew up without him and never missed him. At this point, I don't know that I need him in my life.'

Midori nodded. 'So you didn't miss him when you were a girl? You didn't wish… you know, that he and your mother had reconciled, that kind of thing?'

'No. I think it was better that they didn't. Some things shouldn't be forgiven.'

'Not even for the children?'

'No, of course for the children. But the question is, what's best for the children.'

Midori took a sip of wine. 'You're right. That is the question.'

There was a long pause. Delilah said, 'It sounds like this is something you've been thinking about.'

Midori nodded. 'Just recently, the father showed up unexpectedly and paid us a visit.'

Delilah felt her heart beat harder, but her face betrayed nothing.

'Really? How was that?'

Midori sighed. 'Confusing. I thought I'd made up my mind, but now… I don't know.' She took another sip of wine.

Delilah saw an opening. 'Well, if he's the father, why isn't he in your life?'

'It's a long story, actually, and not something I'm comfortable talking about.'

Okay, that wasn't the right approach. She would have to find another way. 'I'm sorry.'

'No, it's all right. It's just… you know, when he saw the baby, that's what really turned my head around. He cried. I'd never seen him cry before. He's not the crying type. And then, two minutes later, we were kissing like I couldn't believe. I don't know how I managed to ask him to go. If he'd pushed it a little harder… I don't know. I just don't know.'

Delilah's face went hot with jealousy and anger and she hoped she wasn't flushing. She had always assumed that, when he wasn't with her, Rain had other women. She certainly had her fill of other men. They didn't get to see each other frequently, and she didn't expect either of them to remain celibate during the other's absence. But a passionate kiss with an ex-lover, which sounded like the start of something much, much more? That was totally different. After all, he had said he was coming to New York to see his child, not to fuck his old girlfriend. And he would have, that was clear, he'd been trying to do just that but Midori had turned him away.

She let out a long breath and took a sip of wine. 'Sounds like you have a pretty strong connection.'

'I don't know what we have. Good chemistry, definitely. And we went through this really intense… experience together once. But now, for me, it's really about the baby. I worry about him growing up without his father. I worry about what I'm going to tell him.'

Delilah shrugged. 'Don't tell him anything. That's the way my mother handled it with me.'

'That's what I was planning on, more or less. Now I don't know.'

Delilah's heart beat harder and she said, 'Well, when you saw him, where did you leave it?'

'I don't even know exactly. He lives in a different world than mine. I told him if he ever gets out of that world, he could call me then. But I don't think he can get out of it. He's been in it forever, and I actually think… ah, I don't know.'

'What?'

Midori took a sip of wine. 'I think he likes it. I mean, he says he wants to get out, but if he really wanted to, he could, couldn't he? And he's had good reasons. The baby being the most recent.'

Every piece of information Delilah had teased out so far had been disappointing, even painful to hear. Still, there was that one thing, the one she'd wondered about in Paris, that might trump all the rest. She had tried for it subtly a moment ago, but Midori had blocked that approach. Well, subtlety was only a tool. There were other tools available. She felt a flush of adrenaline in her torso as she prepared to strip away the cover she had been wearing and emerge from beneath it.

'Maybe he's reticent because he knows he can never completely get out,' Delilah said, looking at Midori intently. 'And if he tries to live like a civilian, with a civilian, he'll always be a danger to that person. And she'll always be a danger to him.'

Midori shook her head slightly as though to clear it. 'What?'

'You know, a man like Rain has a lot of enemies.'

Midori looked at her. A long, silent moment spun out.

'And even if he could get out of the life,' Delilah went on, 'his enemies won't.'

'I'm sorry. You… know him?'

Delilah nodded. 'I know him well.'

'You… oh, my God.'

'Listen. If you do care about him, if you care about yourself and your son, you'll know to stay the hell away from him.'

Midori's eyes narrowed and some of the color drained from her face. 'Listen to me, you bitch. I don't know who you are. But if you ever threaten my child again, I will hunt you down and I will fucking kill you.'

Delilah held up her hands, realizing she had dangerously misspoken. 'I'm not threatening anyone. I want you and your son safe. My point is just that Rain can be a danger to the people around him. Haven't you noticed that?'

There was a long pause. Midori said, 'So you're part of his world, is that right?'

'Yes.'

'And… you're involved, in some way?'

Delilah shrugged.

'So… Jun must have told you about the baby, told you he was coming to see us. And you came here, you met me tonight with this bullshit story, because you were jealous. Is that about right?'

'I came here tonight because I don't want to see anyone get hurt. You and Rain together is an accident waiting to happen. I saw you on the way over here, and forgive me, but you don't have a clue. You never once checked your surroundings, you didn't look at the vehicles around us, nothing. I told you I'm no threat, but what if I had been? What would you have done? You're going to live like that with Rain? And if he starts living that way, how long do you think he's going to last?'

Midori said nothing. Delilah knew that right now, the woman's thoughts would be swirling around inside her head like a whiteout blizzard. This was the moment.

'Besides,' Delilah said, 'what kind of future can you have with him after what he did to your father?'

Midori flinched as though she'd been slapped. She stared at Delilah for a moment, and the shock and hurt in her eyes were palpable. Then her expression hardened and she stood up.

'I'm sure there's nothing else we have to say to each other,' she said. She turned and walked out.

Delilah watched her go. She felt suddenly off balance. Maybe it had been the abruptness of the woman's departure. Maybe its dignity.

But that was it, then. Rain had killed Midori's father, and Midori knew it. The look in the woman's eyes when Delilah spoke had confirmed it as definitively as a signed affidavit.

That was exactly what Delilah had come here to learn. It suggested that Rain's attachment to the woman had something to do with guilt, which could be managed. And it suggested that no matter what else might attract Rain and Midori to each other, there was one fundamental thing that would always keep them apart.

All of which was good news. She finished her wine and signaled for the check.

Good news, she told herself again.

So why did she feel so horrible?

Midori paced back and forth in her living room. Digne had left. Koichiro was sleeping peacefully.

She felt violated. How could the woman have known about her father? Had she been involved in his murder? No, that didn't seem right, a blonde like her would stand out in Tokyo, and besides, Midori had a feeling the woman's acquaintance with Rain was more recent. But how, then? The only way she could think of was that Rain must have told her. My God, was that his idea of sharing intimacies? Was that their pillow talk?

She sat down and breathed deeply, in and out, trying to quell a rising feeling of nausea. The thought that she had been half-consciously looking for some way to forgive Rain suddenly shamed her. And here he was discussing the source of her shame with some new lover. How could he? How could he?

She tried to focus on her breathing, but she couldn't calm down. Why had the woman come here? To warn Midori off, that was clear. To tell her Rain would always be a danger to her and Koichiro. Tell her, hell, the woman had proven it. What had it been — forty-eight hours since Rain had shown up in Midori's life? And already his world was trailing after him like some foul wake.

And why would the woman have told her that she knew about her father? To get me to react exactly like this, Midori thought.

But that realization didn't change the fundamental fact that Rain had discussed the most intimate secret Midori could imagine, discussed it as though it was just some common problem he'd had with a woman from his past.

She hunched forward, her eyes squeezed shut, fistfuls of hair balled in her hands. She'd actually been hoping. She had. She realized that now.

Maybe she was jumping to conclusions. Maybe Rain didn't tell the woman. Maybe she found out some other way.

But that didn't matter. It didn't even matter what the woman wanted. What mattered was that she had been telling the truth. Rain was a danger. And he always would be.

She wanted him out of her life. Hers and Koichiro's. Forever.