Page 250 of Mercy Written in Blood

"You are staring at the gate," Renji said.

"I'm evaluating it."

"It is wood."

"It has cameras."

"So does the hospital."

"The hospital isn't arranging meetings with terrorists."

Renji's gaze remained on the garden beyond.

"We do not yet know that Sota commands the Unveiled."

"He signed the message."

"That proves he wished us to believe he signed it."

Ken glanced towards Haruki.

"Does he always do this before meetings?"

"Yes."

"I am preventing you from reaching conclusions before evidence," Renji said.

"You're making me miss when you were silent."

"You have never experienced that."

A woman in a blue volunteer jacket approached from inside the gate.

"Mr Ishida?"

Haruki looked at her. She appeared to be in her sixties, grey hair pinned neatly at the base of her neck, soil marking one knee ofher trousers. No visible earpiece. No sign she understood who Haruki was.

"Yes."

"Mr Fujimoto is waiting in the tea pavilion. He asked me to show you the way."

"Do you work for him?"

She laughed.

"No. He donated towards restoring the western bridge."

Of course he had. She turned and began walking. Haruki exchanged a glance with Ken. Then followed.

The path curved through carefully maintained pines. Rain from the previous night still clung to the moss beside the stones. A gardener raked fallen needles beneath an old cedar. Somewhere beyond the trees, water moved over rock. The garden had been designed to reveal itself gradually — no view remained complete for more than a few steps. A pond appeared between branches, then disappeared. A stone lantern emerged from shadow. The tea pavilion stood on a small rise overlooking the water.

Sota waited outside it. He was younger than Haruki expected. Early forties, perhaps. Average height. Lean without appearing physically imposing. He wore a charcoal suit beneath a long coat, no tie, the top button of his white shirt left open. His hair was black, touched with grey near the temples.

Nothing about him demanded attention. Yet Haruki noticed him before the volunteer gestured in his direction.

Sota stood with one hand resting lightly against the wooden railing, speaking to an elderly man holding a camera. He listened as the man explained something about birds nesting near the pond — not pretending to listen, actually listening. When the man finished, Sota thanked him and pointed towardsa section of reeds on the eastern bank. The man smiled, adjusted his camera strap and walked away.

Sota watched him go. Then turned to Haruki. His face opened into a warm, unhurried smile.