A few very ancient prints and extremely rare books were kept under glass. Above them along the wall were weapons of every kind throughout the history of Japan. The collection was museum-worthy. Hundreds of weapons from every era. Ricco would have loved to have the time to study all of them, because there were three he was absolutely certain were ones he’d bid on and lost to an anonymous bidder. The first had been ten years earlier. The second, seven, and the last, five years ago. If he was correct about the items, then Nao had been keeping tabs on him for a long, long time.

He kept walking, following Stefano, but that strange nagging feeling in his gut only intensified. He noticed four empty spaces, as if the wall had been prepared for four more weapons, but Nao hadn’t found them yet.

As they passed the door to the caretaker’s room, Ricco hesitated. His gut was still talking to him, telling him something wasn’t quite right. He stopped and motioned to the others that he wanted to check the room. He waited for Stefano’s acknowledgment and then stepped into the larger shadow that slipped beneath the door.

The suite of rooms was spacious and very clean. The caretaker was a neat freak. Every single thing was put precisely in place, from the books on the shelves in alphabetical order to the coffee mugs with their handles turned the exact same way. Glasses were lined up in cupboards, plates slipped into slots so that they stuck out precisely a quarter of an inch. Everywhere he looked, the rooms were perfect.

He slipped into the bedroom. The bed wasn’t made, the blankets flipped back, but no one was in it. One pillow was military straight, the other cocked at an angle. He glanced toward the bathroom. There was no light spilling out from under the door indicating the caretaker was in that room.

Ricco looked around, checking the kitchen area, what passed for a living room and the bedroom before he decided to look in the bathroom. There was no sound coming from the dark room. He turned the doorknob cautiously. It wasn’t locked. He took his time opening it, slowly, inch by inch. Waited for sound, for anything indicating the room was occupied. If anyone was in there, they were holding their breath, and doing it for a very long time.

He moved into the room with confidence, treading silently as he examined the main area where there was a wide sink and a large Jacuzzi tub. The toilet was in a separate section, wide, with a large towering cupboard behind it, rising all the way to the ceiling.

Puzzled, he looked around. Even if the caretaker had been given time off, research the investigators had discovered indicated that another caretaker always took his place. The man’s name was Darin Salsberry and he’d worked for Nao five years, much longer than most of his caretakers had lasted. The substitutes came and went, most fired after two or three days with Nao. He apparently liked the way Darin took care of him, or Darin was just able to put up with the constant abuse Nao heaped on the heads of those working for him.

It didn’t surprise Ricco in the least that Nao was a bully. He had been a bully when he was seventeen. His father had not only lied for him, but he’d shielded him from the consequences after murdering a family, crippling a child and causing the deaths of three other boys. More, Yamamoto had placed his son in a position of authority from early on in their overseas companies, removing him from possible retaliation from the Saito and Ito families.

The investigators said male prostitutes regularly visited the condo. Often, several returned, no doubt because Nao had millions to burn. He definitely had enough money to fund an elaborate attack on the Ferraro family. He could afford mercenaries, and most of the mercenaries, Eloisa and Henry had discovered, came from South Africa, and they weren’t cheap.

So where was Darin? He wasn’t in his condo. Had Nao called him? Was he with his client? That was the only explanation, yet for some reason, Ricco felt uneasy. He made his way twice around the apartment, but couldn’t find what was setting off the reaction in his gut. He stood in the middle of the bedroom, breathing deeply, listening, certain something was wrong but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. There were several closets, and he ignored those.

Curious, he opened the two remaining doors, one built into the bedroom and one the main living quarters. Both opened to narrow corridors. When he opened the door, LED lights lit up along the ceiling, illuminating the hallway. Ricco followed each hallway. One led to the kitchen, the other to Nao’s master bedroom. When Nao had guests, clearly he didn’t want Darin to be seen.

Finally, knowing he was taking up far too much time, Ricco slipped into another shadow that allowed him to reach the others faster than he could have walking. Taviano had cleared the cameras so they could move quickly to the master bedroom.

Nao’s bedroom was enormous. The bed was king-sized with a mirror on the ceiling. One wall held a long floor-to-ceiling mirror. The walk-in closet was designed for someone in a wheelchair, the clothes set lower to be easily accessible. Both doors were wide open, revealing the huge room, one that was nearly as big as some apartments. Nao obviously liked clothes and shoes. Every kind of shoe and boot was lined up in neat rows. Hundreds of pairs.

The door to the passageway Darin used was in the corner to the front of the room and left of the main entryway. Two panels on either side of the bed, from floor to ceiling, were lights that would instantly illuminate the room if Nao turned them on. It also made the man feel safe.

Stefano and Ricco exchanged a long look. Nao was vain. The wheelchair hadn’t affected his narcissistic personality in the least. From all reports, he was a master manipulator and closed deals faster than his father – who had been renowned for being a closer – had ever done. It was rumored – but not proven – that threats were often used and companies caved immediately after speaking with Nao. Ricco, having witnessed the extent of his sociopathic behavior, believed all the rumors about the man.

The shadow took him to the left side of the bed. Stefano went right. Taviano searched the other rooms thoroughly and shook his head to indicate Darin wasn’t anywhere to be found. More, with Nao soundly sleeping, there was no evidence that the caretaker had been there in the last few hours. He slipped back into the shadows in order to protect them. Ricco waved to Mariko to position herself at the head of the bed, so the first thing Nao would see when he opened his eyes was her. The men looked at her and she nodded.

“Nao,” she called softly. “Akiko wanted me to give you her regards.”

Nao shifted uneasily in his sleep, a frown chasing across his face.

“Did you think she wouldn’t keep an eye on you? She doesn’t like that you would attempt to harm the rest of her family.”

Nao scowled and batted at the air. “Go away.” His hand fluttered in midair and then dropped to his chest. “Stop coming here.”

There was some satisfaction in knowing that Akiko was still on Nao’s mind. Ricco pressed his knee into the mattress to help wake him. The movement caused the man to thump his fist into the pillow and scrunch his eyes closed tighter.

“Go away, Akiko. You’re dead.”