He looked at me with the trademark wry expression he reserved for moments of stupidity too monumental to bear comment, and for an instant he looked like himself again. 'Well, it doesn't matter very much now, does it?' he said.

'It's bad?'

The wry look gave way to a smile, as though this was the most amusing conversation he had had in a long time. 'What do you think?' he said.

We were quiet for a moment. I asked, 'How long?'

He shrugged. 'A few weeks, maybe.'

Christ. 'They can't…'

'Gastric cancer. Stage four. It's already in the lymph nodes, the esophagus… that's why I've lost all this weight. I can't hold anything down.'

'The whiskey would have been a waste, then.'

He chuckled. 'I could have just smelled it.'

We were quiet again.

He said, 'I assume you're still interested in finishing Yamaoto?'

I didn't know what to say. He had so little time, it didn't seem fair to make him use it talking about this. But then I realized, That's what he wants, maybe even what he needs.

'I'm still interested.'

'Good. The delivery will be at Wajima harbor.'

'Wajima…'

'On the Noto Peninsula, Ishikawa prefecture. The Sea of Japan. The gangs avoid large ports because of better security in the major facilities. They prefer quiet places like Fushiki in Toyama, Minamata in Kumamoto, Hososhima in Miyazaki.'

'Or this time, Wajima.'

'Yes. Yamaoto's men have made reservations at an inn there called Notonosho. The area is known for a hot spring, Nebuta, and apparently these men like the waters. Their names are Kito and Sanada, but they might be traveling under something else.'

'What timing are we talking about?'

'They arrive the day after tomorrow. The delivery will be the night after that. My informant still doesn't know how many Chinese will be involved. But my guess is no more than three. Otherwise the two yakuza would feel uncomfortable.'

I was thinking the same thing, but I only nodded.

'Rain-san, forgive me, but you're not as young as you used to be. Can you…'

'Look who's talking,' I said.

He laughed.

'Don't worry,' I told him. 'I've got help.'

He raised his eyebrows. 'Anyone I know?'

I shook my head. 'What about you? I know you're a workaholic, Tatsu, but how are you able to…?'

'During the day, I have a steady stream of visitors. The doctors hate it, but when they complain I say, "So? A little work won't kill me."'

We laughed, then were quiet again.

'It has to look as though Yamaoto's men killed the Chinese and stole the drugs,' he said. There was an odd fervor in his eyes. 'This will put a great deal of pressure on Yamaoto. A great deal.'

Most men, lying on their presumable deathbeds, would be focused on other matters. But not Tatsu. Fighting corruption was his life's work, and he would devote every last breath to it.

I put my hand on his shoulder. 'I'll take care of it.'

He nodded and seemed to settle in his bed. 'Good,' he said, patting my hand.

Without thinking, I turned my hand around and took his in mine.

He gritted his teeth for a moment and groaned, then whatever pain had caused the groan passed. He said, 'You have to hurry, Rain-san. Soon I won't be able to help you.'

I nodded.

He smiled. 'Why do you look so sad?'

I shook my head. 'You're an asshole.'

I thought he would laugh at that, but he didn't. Instead he squeezed my hand for a moment and then said, 'I've thought a lot about what you said, you know. About being a manipulative bastard. I don't have a lot I can do besides lie here and think.'

'You come to any conclusions?'

'That you're right. That I knew exactly what I was doing when I showed you those photographs. That the situation has turned out exactly as I had hoped. Except for one thing.'

'I forgot the whiskey?'

He squeezed again. This time he didn't let go. That I might have put your family in danger. If something were to happen to your son…'

Tatsu had lost his only son in an accident when the child was an infant. He had spoken of it to me only twice: first, when I had asked him years earlier, and again, on the night he told me that I, too, had become a father. The boy had died over three decades earlier, but the pain still showed in Tatsu's eyes. It always had, and I knew now there was only one thing that could deliver him from it. And that thing was coming far too soon.

'Nothing's going to happen to him,' I said. 'We're going to take care of this.'

He closed his eyes and mumbled something. It took me a moment to pick up what it was. Onegai shimasu. Please.

We sat like that for a few minutes more. His eyes remained closed and I realized he was sleeping.

I got up and moved to the door. I nodded to the bodyguard, then checked the corridor. All clear.

I used the stairs and a back exit, then ran a route to make sure I wasn't being followed. It was good to have something operational to focus on. It helped me to not think.

When I was satisfied I was alone, I called Dox. He had already checked into his hotel, the large and anonymous Shinagawa Prince. We agreed to meet at a Starbucks in Shinagawa Station in two hours, after I'd checked into the equally unremarkable Shinjuku Hilton.

I clicked off and headed toward the Yamanote. Tatsu's words echoed in my mind: Soon I won't be able to help you.

When I arrived in Shinagawa, I was initially bewildered. The area, once a seedy backwater reeking of meat processing, had been gentrified. South of the station, everything was brand-new: glass high-rises, sparkling esplanades, expensive-looking restaurants. Christ, there was even a Dean & DeLuca at the station entrance.

I found the Starbucks Dox had described, on a terrace inside the station, overlooking a passenger walkway. Dox was already up there, sitting by the railing, looking down at the crowds, doubtless enjoying the feeling of holding the high ground with an unobstructed field of fire. He spotted me and nodded once to let me know it was safe to approach.

I went to the counter and ordered a herbal tea. I was tired from the trip and the time change, but wanted to maximize my chances of a decent night's sleep.

I took the tea and joined Dox at the table. 'Figured you'd get here early,' he said. 'So to save time, I came early, too.'

Over the last year or so, he'd learned my habits, of course, and this was an opportunity to tweak me. I was getting used to it. 'That was thoughtful of you,' I said.

'I'm a thoughtful guy. In fact, I brought you a present. And, at the risk of disappointing you, I'll tell you now it ain't a kimono or dainty silk undergarments.'

He put a paper bag on the table and I looked inside. I saw a black folding knife and slid it out. I opened it under the table.

'That there is a Benchmade Presidio 520S,' he said. 'Three-and-a-half-inch blade and a combo edge. Thought you might like it.'

'I like it a lot,' I said, closing it and sliding it into my pocket. 'Thanks.'

He nodded. 'What did you hear from your friend?'

I briefed him on what I'd learned from Tatsu. When I was done, he said, 'If the meet is the night after tomorrow, we're going to have to scramble. Can your friend get us the equipment we're going to need?'

'No. To do this right, we're going to need some unusual stuff.'

He smiled. 'Well, I reckon we know where to go for the specialty items.'

I nodded. He was referring to Tomohisa Kanezaki, of course, a Japanese-American CIA officer based at the embassy in Tokyo. Dox and I had both worked with Kanezaki over the years. Some of the things he used us for were official; others were undertaken pursuant to a slightly more entrepreneurial initiative. At this point he was more a friend than an enemy, although you never want to get overly distracted by classifications like those. In the end, business is business.