Barry Eisler: Requiem for an Assassin

“I may do that.”

“You did well, Tom.”

“And you did good.”

“Well, no good deed goes unpunished. I’ll be in touch, okay?”

“I hope so.”

I took my seat on the train and five minutes later, we pulled out of the station. I was wet and shivering from crawling through Vondelpark, and my chest ached. I just wanted to get somewhere warm and dry, somewhere I could close my eyes.

I leaned my head against the window. As we left the lights of the city behind and the world outside grew darker, my reflection appeared in the glass.

For so long, I’d been asking myself whether I had a choice, and always answering no. But maybe the real question was why I never had a choice. Why I always put myself in a position where I had no alternative but killing.

What was that saying of Henry Ford’s? “You can have any color you like, as long as it’s black.”

I thought I heard the iceman: You can have any choice you want, as long as it’s mine.

Maybe. But I’d made at least one right choice, in New York when I’d walked away from Midori’s boyfriend. And maybe I was making another right now, in going to Delilah.

I thought about those three small words she had uttered, the ones I didn’t know how to respond to. I’d think of something, maybe even what she had called “the traditional response,” although the thought of it scared me. I had told her I needed her to guide me back, and staring at that ghostly image in the glass, I knew I did need her, that without her I would just give up and surrender to the iceman. It would be so easy. I was used to it. A part of me even wanted it.

But there was something I wanted more. And with Delilah…

That was it. With Delilah.

The iceman was a loner. Why was I fighting him alone? That was what he wanted, the nature of the fight was itself his victory. But I had allies, Delilah foremost among them. Maybe if I could just be a little less stupid about accepting what they wanted to give me, I could stack the odds in my favor.

I didn’t need to kill the iceman. I didn’t even need to fight him. I just needed to make more of myself, so that he would be less of me.

I didn’t know how, exactly, and I was too tired to figure it out now. But I wouldn’t have to figure it out on my own. That was the point.

I closed my eyes. The reflection was still there, of course. I just couldn’t see it. And for the moment, that was enough.

The Bali, Paris, Saigon, Tokyo, Los Angeles, Bay Area, New York, Singapore, Rotterdam, and Amsterdam locales that appear in this book are described, as always, as I have found them. The nonlethal millimeter wave “area denial system” technology Rain and Boaz use in Singapore is real, but I don’t know if there are yet versions as portable, or as able to penetrate walls, as the one in this book.

Once again, I’ve written a book that has been made much better through the generous contributions of many friends. My thanks to:

My agents, Nat Sobel and Judith Weber of Sobel Weber Associates, and my editor, Dan Conaway of Putnam, for helping me keep the stories fresh and the prose sharp.

Michael Barson (master of Yubiwaza), Carroll Beauvais, Katie Grinch, Summer Smith, Caroline Sun, and Matthew Venzon of Putnam, for doing such an amazing job of getting out the word on the books. Go, Barsonians!

Massad Ayoob of the Lethal Force Institute, for sharing his awe-inspiring knowledge of and experience with firearms tools and tactics, for the great instruction at the LFI I and II (see you at III, Mas), and for helpful comments on the manuscript.

Tony Blauer, for teaching Rain and Dox some of the pattern interrupt / verbal distraction techniques they use several times in this book to gain a tactical advantage.

Matt Furey, for again providing some of the Combat Conditioning bodyweight exercises Rain uses to stay in top shape (and that his author uses, too).

Peyton Quinn of Rocky Mountain Combat Applications Training and author of A Bouncer’s Guide to Barroom Brawling and Real Fighting, for his concept of the previolence “interview,” in this case the fast interview Rain receives in chapter 3.

Ernie Tibaldi, a thirty-one-year veteran agent of the FBI and now a top security consultant, for continuing to generously share his encyclopedic knowledge of law enforcement and personal safety issues, for turning Rain on to Katz’s Deli in New York, and for helpful comments on the manuscript.

Jonathan Shay, for Achilles in Vietnam: Combat Trauma and the Undoing of Character, from which I derived a greater understanding of Rain’s own Vietnam experiences, related in chapter 8, and their long-term effects.

When I visited Saigon to research this book, it was my first time. Rain, of course, had been there long before, and I needed to see the city through his eyes. The website When from Our Exile: Ivan in Vi?t Nam (www.pauahtun.org/Exile/Default.htm) was an enormous help.

Sensei Koichiro Fukasawa of Wasabi Communications, for continuing to guide Rain in Japan, for lifelong friendship, and for helpful comments on the manuscript.

Laurent Boudin, Marie Jeanne Denis, François Laurent, and Françoise Triffaux of my French publishers, Belfond and Univers Poche, for introducing Rain to Le Petit Célestin on the quai des Célestins and La Closerie des Lilas in Montparnasse.

Naomi Andrews, for guiding me on all things French and Parisian, and for helpful comments on the manuscript.

Lori (aka Laure) Kupfer, for continued insights into what sophisticated, sexy women like Delilah wear and how they think, and for helpful comments on the manuscript.

Paul Guyot, for inspiring Rain horologically.

Roberta Parks, M.D., Owen Rennert, M.D., Evan Rosen, M.D., Ph.D., and Peter Zimetbaum, M.D., for continuing to answer my strange questions about the medical implications of unarmed killing techniques, and for helpful comments on the manuscript.

The extraordinarily eclectic group of “foodies with a violence problem” who hang out at Marc “Animal” MacYoung’s and Dianna Gordon’s www.nononsenseselfdefense.com. A special thanks to Marc himself, for sharing his thoughts on leaving the life and coming to grips with the “dragon” within and the “gray man”-thoughts that inspired and helped shape my notion of the iceman, with whom Rain struggles in this book-and for helpful comments on the manuscript.

Dox’s stunning stream of invective in chapter 35 is courtesy of a rant by one David Jefferson Bean, philosopher, iconoclast, owner and operator of the Bean Machine, and brilliant blogger (http://mygreenhell.typepad.com). When Dave gets up a head of steam, you’ll want to set down your coffee, lest you spew it on your keyboard laughing-and nodding your head in stunned agreement.

Terry Trahan, who no longer clanks when he walks (but then again, he doesn’t need to), for his insights on getting out of the life and on the fine art of Weaselcraft.

Three men I count myself privileged to know have characters named after them in this book: Wim Demeere, Frank “Pancho” Garza, and Montie Guthrie. In addition to their names, the characters share some positive characteristics with their real-world namesakes. But the characters also have certain…negative characteristics, which are entirely fictional and have nothing to do with these gentlemen as I know them. I say this because I wouldn’t want anyone to mistakenly conclude that I hold Wim, Pancho, or Montie-friends and teachers all-in anything other than the highest regard. Plus, they might beat me up or shoot me if I didn’t provide a disclaimer. Special thanks to Montie, for always taking my calls about firearms tools and tactics, and for helpful comments on the manuscript. I hope it goes without saying that any firearms mistakes in the manuscript are entirely Montie’s fault.