Free The Last Assassin by Barry Eisler

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.
    â€œWell, you didn’t do enough,” she said.
    â€œThis 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.
    â€œWhat 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.
    â€œI haven’t figured it all out,” she said.
    â€œWell, maybe you should. Maybe you should think about what something like that would cost him.”
    She laughed harshly, I supposed at my impertinence.
    â€œCan I ask you a question?” she asked.
    I nodded.
    â€œWhen 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.”
    â€œI 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.
    â€œMaybe 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.
    â€œBut 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?
    â€œI 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.
    â€œAll right,” I said, nodding. “Okay.”
    She looked at me. I saw sympathy in her eyes and it hurt.
    â€œThank you,” she said.
    I nodded again. “Could I just see…my son?”
    â€œI 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