Barry Eisler - Killing Rain aka One Last Kill

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.”

HILGER 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.”