Collector of Secrets by Richard Goodfellow Page B

envelope had been opened, and he heard himself bite back. “I didn’t forget that letter. I quit.”
    Her eyes grew even darker. “I don’t accept.” The paper shook in her outstretched hand. “You can’t take a board position and then simply resign.”
    Glancing over Yoko’s head, Max caught a glimpse of several women curiously eyeing them, and he made a point to temper his rising frustration. “We shouldn’t talk about this here.”
    Yoko waved dismissively and her tone grew curt. “They can’t speak English and have no idea what we’re talking about.”
    “I want my passport back.”
    “Is that what this is about?”
    “It’s not the only thing, but you’ve had it for weeks, and I’ve asked for it at least three times.”
    “I told you the lawyers need it for the legal paperwork.”
    What bullshit, Max thought. “Really? Is that the latest story?” His body tensed—he hated arguing. “Last week when I politely asked you it was another excuse, and the week before that something else. I’m surprised you can keep all the lies straight in your head sometimes.” He waited for the explosive fireworks, but they didn’t come.
    “Max, please.” She drew out her words and softened her tone. “Something has upset you, and we need to talk about it.” She folded the letter back into her purse. Lifting her head, she smoothed the sides of her hair. “Let’s have brunch tomorrow. It’s Saturday. We can discuss whatever is bothering you.”
    He had witnessed this bait-and-switch tactic before, and he wasn’t about to fall for it again. “I have plans with Tomoko all day.” He stared with rigid eyes. It was only a partial lie.
    “Well, then, Sunday, perhaps.” She stepped closer. “We were so close. Let’s mend the fences.”
    Well, she does seem sincere.
    Before he could respond, the moment was broken by a braking taxi. Mrs. Hirano was finally arriving. Yoko’s change from conciliatory friend to money-hungry parasite was instantaneous. She pressed Max backward with a sharp elbow and stepped on his foot as she rushed to the cab door.
    Watching her at work, Max was astounded at himself. She had almost beguiled him again. What was it about her personality that blessed her with the ability to charm and control? A few more seconds and he would have agreed to brunch with a simple shrug of his shoulders. He resolved to grow a thicker skin, become tougher. In the meantime, however, he would have to find a way to get his passport back while attempting to avoid her for the next two weeks.
    Max followed while Yoko ushered her wealthy little flock past the bowing attendants and into the red-carpeted theater lobby. She was unlike anyone he had ever met―a master of manipulation. And as the closing doors blocked out the bustling street noise, he couldn’t help but wonder who had taught her to play this high-stakes game.

Saturday, April 21
    TOMOKO COULD see her breath as she perched against the low wall in Sapporo’s Odori Park. Her cell phone was pressed to one ear as she left an answering machine message.
    “Hi Max. I’ll be on my way home to Tokyo soon. Meet me in Roppongi tonight, instead of Shibuya. I miss you. Bye-bye.”
    The jeans she was wearing offered scant protection against the chilly stone, and she rocked from side to side, shivering in the early morning sunlight. A few more minutes of this and she would be taking the coat from the bum sleeping on the bench behind her. Miki was fifteen minutes late, and Tomoko felt ready to kill her.
    Certain she heard her name being called, Tomoko attempted to block the glare from the bright eastern sunrise. In the middle of the park plaza, she could see the outline of someone jogging toward her. She desperately hoped it was Miki, but it couldn’t possibly be. The person heading her way was wearing a pair of thigh-high black-and-white striped stockings and pink Converse Chucks. Her friend was much too conservative for an outfit like that.
    “Oh no, you’re