Barry Eisler - Killing Rain aka One Last Kill

Al-Jib laughed. “I have to tell you, your proposal is interesting and I think there is a lot you might be able to do for my people, but I would not have agreed to meet you. Not even with the people who vouched for you. Your former affiliations are too… suspect. There are people who believe you are still in the employ of the U.S. government.”

“That impression can be useful in my work. I don’t go out of my way to dispel it.”

“I understand. Still, it can be hard for men to trust each other even when they are from the same village. When they come from such different villages as ours, the suspicions linger, do they not?”

“They do. But I hope the test you devised was adequate to ease your doubts.”

“More than adequate. Killing a U.S. diplomat in Amman… there are some things that a U.S. government agent simply cannot do.”

Hilger laughed. “It was a creative solution. I’m glad it worked.”

“You never told me one thing, though. How did you manage to have the Jordanians blame Al Qaeda for the man’s death?”

“That was a case of someone rounding up the ‘usual suspects,’ ” Hilger replied. “When a senior member of USAID is assassinated, someone has to be blamed. Who better than AQ?”

“Yes,” Al-Jib said. “I suppose that’s true.”

They were quiet for a moment. Then Hilger said, “One thing that’s so useful about my ambiguous status with the United States government is that I’m in touch with many, many people who are in a position to do me favors. They’re receiving the same twenty-five percent you will be, and are always looking for an opportunity to invest something more. So tonight, in addition to the logistics of setting up your accounts and transferring funds, I would very much like to talk about what you need that the U.S. government might unwittingly provide. I’d like to help with all that, too.”

“For your usual twenty percent fee?”

“Of course. Everything I do involves personal risk.”

“I don’t begrudge you. I only wanted to confirm. If you can provide what I need, I think we’ll both be satisfied with the arrangement.”

“Tell me, then,” Hilger said. “I’m intrigued.”

There was a moment of quiet, then Al-Jib said, “As you know, Dr. Khan’s organization was chiefly able to provide know-how and machinery to its customers. The missing link in our product lineup was always material.”

“Uranium? Plutonium?”

“Either one is greatly desired.”

“If it’s uranium you need, highly enriched is your best bet. The U.S. National Nuclear Security Administration and the International Atomic Energy Administration are supervising the repatriation of HEU from all over the world right now, and I have extensive contacts in both organizations. You might have heard of the program-the Global Threat Reduction Initiative, a joint operation between the United States and Russia to secure Soviet-era nuclear fuel.”

“Yes, I know of it.”

“Then you probably know that six kilograms of highly enriched uranium was just repatriated from the Czech Republic to Russia. The transfer was secret until it was completed, but I knew about it beforehand. There are others that are being secretly planned even as we speak. HEU is being moved from Bulgaria, Libya, Romania, Serbia, and Uzbekistan. With your background, I don’t think I need to tell you how many opportunities there are en route for a diversion.”

“What will it cost?” Al-Jib asked, and I thought, Nice sales pitch. The guy’s ready to whip out his checkbook .

“A lot,” Hilger said, and they all laughed.

Manny said, “What did I tell you, Ali?”

Al-Jib said, “Yes, it seems we can do business together.”

Manny said, “I’ve been telling you that for what, three years? I’ve made a lot of money with this man and he’s done me a lot of favors.”

Hilger said, “Cheers,” and I heard glasses clinking.

Manny said, “Excuse me for a minute.” I heard a chair sliding back, then their door open and close.

My heart rate started to pick up speed. There was a hiss, then Dox cut in. “Manny’s on his way out,” he said. “Probably going to take a leak.”

“I heard him,” I said. “I’m ready.”

“Delilah and I will stay on this frequency so we can hear you if there’s a problem,” he said. “But I’m done talking unless you need me.”

“All right,” I said. I was a little surprised Delilah hadn’t mentioned the discussion we just overheard as a way of reintroducing the critical importance of killing Al-Jib. I knew she was stubborn and didn’t easily accept the word “no.” But I supposed the compromise I offered had persuaded her.

I rotated my head left, then right, cracking the joints. I squatted down to make sure that, if my knees needed to pop, they would do so now. I twisted my torso left, then right, swung my arms around, and took two short, sharp breaths. Okay.

I looked through the hole facing the bathroom door, thinking, Come on, Manny, come on.. .

But Manny didn’t show. A minute went by, then two. If he was just heading down here from the private dining room, he should have arrived by now. Maybe he didn’t need the bathroom after all. Or maybe he went down to the one on thirteen. I wouldn’t have expected him to bypass the closer facilities, but maybe he didn’t know there was one on this floor. Or maybe he stopped to make a phone call, or to try to chat up a waitress. Could be anything. The main thing was, he wasn’t coming.

I said into the lapel microphone, “Manny isn’t here yet. He must have gone somewhere else.”

Delilah said, “Shit.”

“Can you take a look?” I asked. “Dox should stay put. It’s not likely, but also not impossible that Manny would recognize him.”

“No problem,” she said.

I heard the door open. I looked through the hole. It wasn’t Manny. But it was still someone interesting. I leaned toward my lapel and whispered to Delilah, “Wait.”

She said, “Understood.”

My new visitor had the dark hair and skin of a Filipino. Inside his cheap suit was a body with the approximate dimensions of a refrigerator. From his size, the way he was dressed, and the way he was scoping the bathroom, I made him as a bodyguard. Manny’s bodyguard.

This was the guy Hilger had insisted wait outside. Manny must have used his cell phone to call him after stepping out of the private dining room. The call, and the elevator ride up, explained Manny’s delay in reaching my position. He really had turned paranoid about public restrooms.

Not without reason.

The bodyguard was heading right toward me, looking at the closet door. He was going to check it.

I put my left foot against the doorjamb, grasped the handle, and leaned back so that the door was supporting about a hundred and fifty pounds of pressure. A moment later, I felt a mild pull from the other side. If we’d been in a real tug-of-war, the guy might have been able to budge me, but he wasn’t trying to force the door, just to confirm that it was locked as the sign advertised. It didn’t move a millimeter. I felt him let go, heard him walking back to the entrance. I heard the bathroom door open, heard him say, “It’s clear.”

I kept my position. Manny might try the door, too.

I heard a new set of footsteps in the room. Manny’s voice: “Thank you. Just wait outside, if you don’t mind.”

The man said, “Of course.”

I heard the door close. Manny’s footsteps, drawing nearer. Then stopping.

He had seen the closet door. He was wondering whether the bodyguard had checked it. Of course he’s checked it , he’d be thinking. He’s a bodyguard. Still, no harm confirming.. .

Sure enough, his footsteps came closer, then stopped again, and I felt another mild tug on the door. Then the pressure eased, and I heard him walking off to my right.