Barry Eisler - The Detachment

“This…this is ridiculous. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sir, just go retrieve the camera if you would. Oh, and by the way, doggy-style is one of my favorite positions, too. Well done, sir, well done.”

That was a nice touch, I thought, and not one I’d scripted. The trick was to feed the subject critical bits of information that would cause him to believe you had more. That, and his growing panic, would prevent him from thinking clearly, and from asking potentially show-stopping questions like, Oh yeah? What was the girl’s name, then? Which, if Dox really were her associate, he could be expected to know.

There was silence for a moment, presumably while Shorrock examined the television and located the camera. Then he said, “What…what is this about?”

“Sir, it’s about you compensating me for giving you the thumb drive on which your steamy encounter with a Las Vegas prostitute is now clearly recorded.”

“This is a hoax. Who are you?”

There was no conviction in his voice, and I decided he was just trying to be careful about what he said. At the moment, fear of being recorded would naturally be prominent in his mind.

“Right now, sir, I’m the only person who can save you from personal and professional humiliation and destruction. Which I would sincerely like you to help me do.”

“Help you how?”

“Just by paying me a thousand dollars in cash. Which, I think you’ll agree under the circumstances, is a hell of a bargain.”

In the business he was in, Shorrock would know something about blackmail, and his next question demonstrated experience. “Just for the sake of argument, if it were true that you had some sort of tape, which you don’t, because nothing untoward happened, but if you did, you’d keep a copy and turn your blackmail demands into an annuity. Why would anyone want to play your game?”

“Sir, that is a reasonable concern and I can only assure you that I’ve been playing this game, as you call it, for a long time, and my discretion is the reason I’ve been able to continue without undue fuss. Have you ever heard about anyone being caught out at the Wynn? Of course not, and I’ll tell you why. It’s because every time this happens, I’m paid promptly for delivering the incriminating recording and that’s the end of the matter. But if you want to be the first person to get huffy and take a stand, that’s up to you. Personally, I’d recommend you do what everyone else does, which is fork over the thousand, chalk it up to experience, and live to fight another day.”

There was a pause, during which Shorrock must have been mentally running the odds. His voice was tight, but he managed to say, “Okay, just because I can’t sleep and this amuses me. Even if I wanted to pay you, I don’t have a thousand in cash with me.”

An objection about price, not principle. That, and the fact that he hadn’t hung up, made me confident this was going to work.

“Of course you don’t, sir, that’s not unusual after a night of gambling. Which is why I’m standing right next to an ATM. So here’s the deal. You come down and withdraw the money. I’ll be watching from somewhere on the casino floor. When you have the money, I’ll stroll on by. I’ll give you a thumb drive and you’ll give me the cash. A very discreet exchange and considering the damage it’ll prevent, I’d say it’ll be the best money you’ll ever spend in your life. But if you’re not here in five minutes, I’ll assume you’re not interested-in which case, you can watch the trailer of the video on select Internet sites. And who knows? Maybe on the evening news, too.”

I knew we had him even before he said, “Where are you?”

“Not far from Blush nightclub. There’s an ATM to the club’s right as you’re facing the entrance. That’s the one to use. Oh, and I almost hate to ask this under the circumstances, but could I trouble you to return the camera to me? They’re expensive.”

“I don’t believe this.”

“I understand, sir, and I know this is unpleasant, but if you just follow the plan, in five minutes the whole thing will be behind you. And if it makes you feel better, again you’re hardly the first. Vegas, you know what I mean?”

Dox hung up and we moved off to separate slot machines with a view of the ATM. I imagined what Shorrock would be doing now: trying to control his panic, weighing the odds of his thousand dollars buying him what it was supposed to buy, coming up with a story for why the bodyguard outside his room had to stay put and not trail him despite security protocol to the contrary. He only had a few minutes to figure it all out, and again the time pressure would be key to preventing him from coming up with anything we hadn’t foreseen. His most obvious move, aside from compliance, would be to have the bodyguard, or both of them, tail him and move in on Dox when he revealed himself from the casino floor. I didn’t think he’d do it-there wasn’t much upside to a move like that, only a lot of risk-but if he did, we’d stay put and repeat when he returned to his room.

It turned out there was no need to worry: Shorrock came alone. I watched him scanning the casino floor, but there were too many patrons communing with slot machines for him to pick out Dox or me. When he’d passed my position, I got up and made my way to the men’s room. I felt a small adrenaline rush spreading through my trunk and limbs and deliberately breathed slowly and deeply to manage it.

The bathroom was shaped like an L, with sinks along the horizontal axis and urinals and stalls along the vertical. It appeared to be empty. I pulled on the deerskin gloves and quickly checked each stall door to confirm no one was inside. Outside, Dox would be taking Shorrock’s money and explaining that he didn’t have the thumb drive on him-that he’d taped it to the back of the folding diaper-changing table in the farthest stall, the large one designed for handicapped use. The one I now quietly entered, latching the door behind me.

The stall was exceptionally private: high, white marble walls resting on casters just an inch above the tiled floor; close-fitting wood-paneled doors; no cracks or gaps anywhere through which someone might catch a glimpse from without. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, held it for a beat, then slowly released it. I only needed a few seconds alone with him. It was ridiculous I hadn’t found those seconds yet, but I felt like the time was finally at hand.

I kept my eyes closed and concentrated on listening. A moment passed, and I heard a single set of footsteps around the corner of the L. If it was someone else, he might stop at the urinals or the sinks. But the footsteps were moving quickly, deliberately. And they kept coming, past the unoccupied stalls, closer and closer to my position.

Three seconds , I thought. It won’t matter if someone walks in after that. Just three seconds.

The footsteps stopped outside the stall door. Someone pulled on the handle. The latch rattled.

“Hey,” a voice called. “Is someone in there?”

Shorrock was an intelligence professional. Even frightened and confused, he might be alerted by an incongruity. I had to keep it natural for as long as I could.

“Yeah, someone’s in here,” I said. “Is this the only stall?”

“Just hurry, okay? It’s an emergency.”

If he’d been thinking clearly, he would have claimed to be handicapped, which would have been calculated to make the current, likely un-handicapped occupant feel guilty and accordingly move more quickly. Apparently, he was under stress sufficient to make that kind of calculation impossible. Which meant he would miss other things, too, or catch on only when it was too late.

I pressed the button on the wall control and the toilet flushed. I wasn’t worried about him recognizing me from one of the restaurants or other venues in which I’d gotten close to him-people don’t usually notice me unless I want them to. But even if he did notice, and wonder, the momentary puzzlement and distraction would work to my advantage.