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Jackal stood, smoothing his trench coat. "That should conclude our meeting," he said quietly. But as Hiroshi began to rise, Jackal held up a hand, a final question clearly on his mind. "One more thing. The security breach at the lab months ago – the one that started all this. We lost valuable assets that night, and our operation was exposed earlier than planned." His jaw tightened. "I trust you've identified the leak on your side? There's no other Hiroshi Kobayashi lurking around, I hope." The spymaster's tone was icy, the implication clear: if there was another mole or a double-agent, Takeda would pay dearly.
Hiroshi felt a bead of sweat under the mask, but he maintained Takeda's outward calm. "Rest assured," he said evenly, "we've swept thoroughly for internal leaks since that incident. We believe the culprit was an external element – likely a rogue mercenary team that the Americans or someone sent in, unrelated to us." He allowed Takeda's face to twist in annoyance. "If any of my people had been the leak, I'd have dealt with them myself by now."
Jackal studied him for a long moment. The silence hung like a blade. Then, seemingly satisfied, the foreign agent gave a curt nod. "Very well. I'll be in touch when it's time." He retrieved the signal jammer and pocketed it. "Until then, keep your head down. And be careful with that Director-General of yours. If she or Ito make any sudden moves, I expect immediate warning."
"Of course," Hiroshi replied, bowing just enough to appear deferential. "Safe travels, Jackal." The word felt bitter on his tongue.
Jackal permitted himself the ghost of a smirk at the farewell, then turned on his heel and strode out into the alley, disappearing into the rainy night with purposeful steps. He did not offer a handshake – spies rarely do at such partings. In a few heartbeats, the glow of his cigarette and the echo of his footsteps vanished beyond the alley, swallowed by the city.
Hiroshi let out a slow, silent breath he hadn't realized he was holding. It was done. The final piece of evidence was secured, and his disguise had been held. In the empty lounge, he allowed his shoulders to relax slightly, the weight of Takeda's persona slipping off. Careful not to dislodge the latex mask just yet, he walked calmly back out the back door into the alley, glancing about to confirm Jackal was truly gone. The sedan was still waiting for him, engine purring softly. As Hiroshi approached, the driver – one of Yoshimura's men – gave a small nod from beneath his cap. Hiroshi slid into the backseat, finally pulling off the damp wig and mask in one swift motion. Cool air met his flushed, sweat-prickled skin. He sucked in deep breaths, steadying himself.
"Got it all?" he asked quietly, tapping his watch which was now blinking green to indicate a successful recording.
From the front seat, the driver lifted a hand from the wheel and revealed a small thumb drive, pinched between his fingers. Even in the dark, Hiroshi could see the man was smiling. "Every last word, sir," came the reply. "Yoshimura-san already signaled that the recording is secure."
Hiroshi closed his eyes for a moment as a wave of relief and exhaustion washed through him. He'd been holding his breath – metaphorically – for three weeks straight inside that vipers' nest, pretending to be a pawn for Takeda and his cronies. Now, at long last, they had what they needed to bring the whole rotten cabal down. He had walked into the lair of the lion and emerged with its secrets. A first, crucial victory – but the night was not over yet.
"Take me to the safehouse," Hiroshi said softly. He ran a hand through his own sweat-damp hair, resetting his appearance back to himself. Outside the window, the city lights blurred in streaks of color as the sedan pulled away. Hiroshi allowed himself one last look back toward the alley as they turned the corner – as if by doing so he could cast off the last traces of the Takeda disguise and everything it represented.