Page 53 of Assassin Anonymous

Sanjuro was the name adopted by the ronin—the masterless samurai—in Yojimbo.

Kenji’s favorite Kurosawa film.

Which is why he chose it as his username.

8

Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing.

—Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment

Midtown Manhattan

Two Years Ago

It’s three minutes past eight. She should have been out here by now. I check my phone and, finding nothing, return to watching the glass doors of the building. The security guard at the desk hasn’t looked up from his phone in the eleven minutes I’ve been standing here, which means he hasn’t noticed me. Which means he sucks at his job.

People stream past on the busy Midtown sidewalk. I pull my scarf over my face a little because it cuts against the bite of the wind, but also it makes me feel a little more secure when people can’t see my face.

I’m hungry. Should have eaten something earlier. Always a mistake, not eating beforehand.

My phone buzzes.

So sorry. Meeting ran over. Headed down now.

I respond back: No problem.

I scroll up through the previous texts from Sara.

Me: What are you in the mood for?

Sara: There’s a holiday thing over at Bryant Park. How about some hot cocoa?

Sara: Maybe some ice-skating?

Me: I don’t know how to ice-skate.

Sara: There’s a trick to it. I’ll show you.

Me: Oh yeah? What’s the trick?

Sara: You’ll have to wait and see. I have a meeting until 8. Ok to meet after?

Me: Perfect.

Since I’m already in my phone I click over to the dating app where we connected. The first picture that comes up is her sitting in her office, presumably upstairs. She’s wearing a blue and pink and gray flannel shirt. Her auburn hair curled and tousled, she’s flashing a brilliant, nearly blinding smile.

Her likes include science fiction, spirituality, and eating out, as well as power exchange, group play, and ethical nonmonogamy. Which is why I love this app. It’s geared more toward kink and hookups than it is long-term dating, which means the important cards are on the table as soon as you sit down. When we matched and started chatting, two things were clear from the jump.

First is, neither of us was looking for anything serious, and that suited me just fine. We both wanted a regular friend-with-benefits type of situation, where we could get together and do some weird shit, but also maybe catch the occasional movie or go to a museum. When I shook Ravi’s hand on that pier in Singapore I accepted that a nuclear family and white picket fence wasn’t in my future. Which is fine; you can’t be wistful for a thing you never had. But after years of one-night stands and escorts, I’m yearning for something a bit more.

Not for someone to know me, but maybe someone I can know a bit.

The second thing, which came across even in our messaging, was that talking to her was like touching the tip of a live wire. We spoke with the comfort of old friends, slipping into a rapport that felt fast and sexy and even a little sweet.

This is still a risk. I don’t mind taking risk onto myself; that’s my job. It’s the risk I could be exposing her to. But I cling to the hope that I could protect her from anything. There aren’t that many people on this planet dumb enough to mess with me.

“Mark?”