Killing Rain (19 page)

“Oh man, how did she notice me? You must have told her.”

“I didn’t. She just noticed you.”

“How? Damn, this is embarrassing.”

I looked at Delilah. She was smiling slightly, enjoying what she must have been making of the other side of the conversation.

“I told you, she’s good,” I said.

“Yeah, apparently so. You going to give me a hard time about this?”

“God, yes.”

There was a pause. “All right. I reckon I’ve got that coming. But not in front of her, okay? This is embarrassing enough.”

“All right.”

“Promise me.”

Christ.
“I promise.”

“Okay, where do you want to do this?” The tone was of a little boy resigned to a spanking.

“I think my room would be best. No sense the three of us being seen together.”

He sighed. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

I clicked off. Delilah asked, “Was he upset?”

I shrugged. “Embarrassed.”

She smiled. “I would be, too.”

“I promised him I wouldn’t be hard on him in front of you.”

Her smile broadened. “That’s what you were promising?”

I nodded and added innocently, “But that was only me. You didn’t promise anything.”

She chuckled and said, “There’s a streak of cruelty in you, I see.”

I looked at her.“How did you make him? Really.”

“I told you, the incongruities. But also . . . he’s a big man, but when you look at him, it’s almost like he’s not there.”

I nodded. I saw no sense in telling her about his sniping background. I said, “He’s like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Most of the time he’s as loud and obnoxious as an ambulance siren. But when he goes dark, he can damn near disappear.”

“That’s what tipped me. I didn’t notice him, but then I noticed that I didn’t notice, you know what I mean? I took a second look, and realized how big he is. That’s what told me he was a pro. It’s not easy for a big man to make himself fade away like that. Even for a small one, it’s rare.”

There was a knock at the door. I walked over, stood to the side, and leaned over to glance through the peephole. It was Dox.

I opened the door. He nearly blotted out the sun behind him. I turned and waved him inside.

Delilah stood. Dox looked at her a little sheepishly. Then he turned to me. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of my bruised cheek. His glance dropped to the wear and tear on my arms. His face lit up in his trademark grin.

“Well, I don’t know what ya’ll were doing last night, but I hope it was consensual,” he said.

Shit,
I thought. Well, Dox had to be Dox. There was nothing anyone could do about it.

Delilah looked at him. Her expression was somewhere between mild amusement and gentle reproach. “Really, is that any way to introduce yourself ?” she asked softly, holding Dox’s eyes.

Dox returned her look, and something strange came over him. The grin faded away and color crept into his cheeks. He dropped his hands in front of his pants as though he was holding a hat there, and said, “Um, no. No, ma’am, it’s not.”

I thought,
What the hell?

She gave him an encouraging
that’s better
smile and held out her hand. Her head was high, her posture erect and formal. “I’m Delilah,” she said.

He reached for her hand and shook it once, his head bowing slightly as he did so. “People call me Dox.”

She raised her eyebrows. “ ‘Dox’?”

He nodded, and I noticed him unconsciously straighten, mirroring her posture. “It’s short for ‘unorthodox,’ ma’am. Which some people seem to think I am.”

Good God, it was like watching a ferocious-looking dog charge into a room, then roll over to have its belly scratched.

Her eyes twinkled with understanding and shared good humor. “You don’t seem unorthodox to me,” she said.

Dox’s expression was almost grave. “Well, I’m not,” he said. “I’m the normal one. It’s all those other folks who are unorthodox.” He paused, then added, “Although I do kind of like the nickname. I’ve had it for a long time. You can use it, if you like.”

She smiled. “I will. And please call me Delilah.”

He nodded and said, “Yes, ma’am.” He reddened, and I could imagine him thinking,
Dumbass.
“Delilah, I mean.”

“Why don’t we sit down?” I said.

Dox turned to me as though suddenly remembering that I was in the room. He nodded. Then he turned to Delilah and gestured to the couch like the perfect southern gentleman. She
smiled and walked over. I sat next to her. Dox took the chair and pulled it around so he was facing us.

Delilah and I briefed him on what we had discussed the night before and on what I had learned that morning.

When we were done, he said, “I knew those boys were hitters from the way they moved. And I was afraid they might be of the CIA persuasion. Too bad, really. Ordinarily, I try to make it a habit not to offend spy organizations and their ilk.”

“That’s the question,” I said. “What organization we’ve really offended.”

“What about your people?” Dox asked, turning to Delilah. “John tells me you’re with the Mossad, or one of their affiliates.”

She raised her eyebrows and glanced at me. “Is that what he says?”

Dox shrugged. “Professional outfit, if you don’t mind my saying so. I worked with some Israeli snipers some years back.”

Snipers.
Shit, he might as well have handed her his CV.

“What did you think?” she asked.

“I liked them a lot. Arrogant badasses—uh, guys, I mean—with every reason to be. They taught me as many tricks as I did them.” He broke out in the grin. Talking about sniping was more familiar territory for him. He glanced at me and said, “It takes a special kind of karma to offend the CIA and the Mossad, and both at the same time. If it had happened to someone else, I’d be laughing about it.” Then he looked at Delilah and his expression sobered again. “I sure hope you can do something to help us out of this situation we’re in before it gets any nastier.”

Delilah nodded. “I’ll try.”

Dox bowed his head. “Well, I’m grateful to you. So’s my partner.”

Delilah looked at me. “How do I contact you?”

I gave her one of the cell phone SIM card numbers. I would
leave the phone off most of the time so that no one could track it. But I could check the voice mail from time to time securely enough, and more frequently and easily than I could the bulletin board.

“All right,” I said. “Time to beat a hasty retreat. I’ll take care of the checkout.”

Dox and I stood up. I leaned over Delilah and kissed her.

“Thank you,” I said.

She shook her head. “Don’t thank me yet.”

H
ILGER HAD GOTTEN
back to his apartment on Lugard Road in the Mid-Levels at well past sunrise that morning. He was sleeping with the aid of a black eyeshade when his cell phone rang on the bed stand next to him. He sat up instantly, pulled off the eyeshade, and blinked at the light coming through his bedroom window. He breathed in and out hard and cleared his throat. He had a feeling he knew who might be calling, even though there was no rational reason for his confidence.

He picked up the phone and said, “Hilger.”

“Hello, Mr. Hilger. Our mutual friend gave me your number.”

The voice was soft and assured, lightly Arabic-accented. Hilger smiled. He had been right. It was VBM.

“Good,” Hilger said. “Thank you for calling.”

“This line is secure?” the voice asked.

“Absolutely,” Hilger responded.

The voice stayed oblique anyway. “It seems there was a problem in Manila.”

“Yes, there was,” he responded, staying oblique himself to keep the man comfortable. “Our mutual friend has enemies, as you know.”

“And?”

“The problem has been resolved.” It didn’t feel like a lie because he expected it to be true soon. Hell, maybe it was true already.

“All right.”

“If you’re still in the area, I hope we can still meet. I’d like to come to the meeting personally.”

“You weren’t able to make it personally last time?”

The man was pressing. Maybe he was the petty type. Maybe he was just testing Hilger’s mettle. It didn’t matter. Hilger said, “I wasn’t. But perhaps that’s for the best.”

He heard the man chuckle. All right, that was good.

“Where do you propose we meet?” the voice asked.

“Why don’t you come here, to Hong Kong? You’ll be my guest. I’ll put you up in the best hotel. We can charter a boat, go to the horse races, whatever you like.”

“I’m afraid I’ll be pressed for time.”

Yes, the man was the petty type. He wanted to show that he was setting limits, that he was in charge. But the main thing was that he had implicitly agreed to the substance of what Hilger had proposed. The trick now was to close on that substance and at the same time let the man feel he was in control.

“I understand,” Hilger said. “Still, if your schedule permits, I think you’ll find a first-class, all-expenses-paid visit to Hong Kong to be very enjoyable.”

There was a pause, and he could feel the man considering. In Hilger’s experience, the wealthy were typically the cheapest, greediest people on the planet. With the people he had behind him, this guy could probably buy half of Hong Kong, yet he was salivating at the prospect of someone buying a tiny part of it for him.

“We’ll see,” the voice said.

Hilger knew that meant yes. He smiled and said, “Why don’t I make a few arrangements and post them on the bulletin board. Would tomorrow for dinner be possible? We can discuss business then, and after, if you have time, you can stay for a few days as my guest.”

“Dinner tomorrow will work,” the man said, committing to the only part Hilger gave a shit about.

“Excellent,” Hilger said. “I’ll make the arrangements and post them right away.”

“Very good.” The man hung up.

Hilger got up and walked over to his desk. He fired up his laptop, then spent a few minutes thinking. With Calver and Gibbons gone, it made sense to bring Winters to the VBM meeting. Winters was coming to Hong Kong anyway, to brief Hilger on what he got from Rain and Dox. VBM might not like the slight surprise, but at that point he wouldn’t back out. It would be worth temporarily ruffling the man’s feathers to have backup at the meeting, and to have someone to whom he could delegate after. And he’d still need Manny there to offer his imprimatur. That would make a nice party of four. Hilger knew just the place.

He spent the next hour on the phone and the Internet, making the arrangements, alerting the players. When he was done, he checked one of the secure bulletin boards.

Son of a bitch,
he thought, feeling a flush of pride at the quality of the men he worked with. There had been a break, a bit of
luck that had enabled Hilger’s people to track Dox to Bangkok. The man had made a mistake, and it was going to cost him. If Rain was with him, as Hilger was betting he was, it would cost them both.

His phone rang again.

“Hilger,” he said.

“It’s me,” the caller said.

Hilger recognized the slightly nasal voice on the other end. His contact on the National Security Council.

“Go ahead.”

“We’ve got a new problem.”

Hilger waited.

The contact said, “I got a call this morning. A reporter from the
Washington
fucking
Post.
”

Hilger’s concern expressed itself in a feeling of almost deliciously cool calm.

“What did he want?”

“He wanted to know about a rumor that the men in Manila were CIA officers and had died while meeting with a known terrorist.”

“Did he have anything else?”

“Not that he said.”

“Maybe he was fishing.”

“I doubt it. His information was pretty accurate in certain respects. I think it’s more likely that he has a source.”

Shit, someone was putting together the pieces pretty quickly.

“He’s going to run a story?”

“I don’t think so. Not yet. I think he’s looking for more information, corroboration.”

“Then we still have time.”

“Listen, I used up a lot of capital to straighten things out after Kwai Chung. I don’t know if I can do that again.”

Hilger breathed once, in and out. He said, “You won’t have to.”

“You need to put this thing to sleep quickly,” the voice answered. “We can’t afford the scrutiny. Not again.”

Yeah, no shit.

“It’s being handled today,” Hilger told him. “I’ll call you when it’s done.”

“Okay. Good.”

Hilger clicked off. He looked at his phone, wondering how it was going in Bangkok. For a moment, he thought that maybe he should have been there himself, to oversee things. But no. Winters was the best. Hilger had seen him in action and it wasn’t a pretty sight. But the man got results.