"You mean you've had a change of heart?"
"I'd like to propose an alternative, but we're going to have to trust each other." I throw my katana onto the floor as a sign of good faith. While I'm not exactly ready to commit harakiri just yet, suddenly my imitation of a life doesn't seem to be worth fighting for so hard. I figure that if either one of us lives on, I haven't really lost much. The gamble's worth it, because if she'll go along with my plan—and I'm pretty sure she will, because I'm pretty sure I would—then we can both get what we deserve.
Mike doesn't get into his office until seven the next morning. When he sees me, he freezes, and for just a second he reveals fear in his eyes.
"You're early," he says.
I briefly wonder how much effort he's putting into keeping his voice steady, trying his best not to give away how scared he is, but that brief glance has already betrayed his fear. He knows the doctor's dead. I figure I should have taken him up on his offer a few months back to join in his poker games. I'd have made a fortune off him.
"I didn't get much sleep." I figure I can trust him not to try to kill me yet because I haven't revealed my intentions. He's far too trusting like that. The right move would have been to kill me as soon as he saw me in the room. But he can't do that. He needs me. So I turn my back to him, walking up to the window.
"Bad night?" asks Mike, feigning ignorance.
"You could say that. When I got home, I found an intruder waiting for me."
"My god!" says Mike. "What happened?"
"I dispatched her, naturally." The first rule in my line of work is never trust anybody, not even somebody pretending to be your friend.