Barry Eisler - Rain Storm aka Choke Point

I could tell by his voice and his expression-and by recent experience with Crawley, who had refused to talk even in extremis-that he wasn’t going to tell me what I wanted to know. It would be useless to ask about Dox. Even if I asked, I wouldn’t be able to trust his answer.

I thought for a moment, and it occurred to me that there might still be a way to do Belghazi, even without the information Kanezaki was determined to hold back. It might involve calling off the wait that Delilah was counting on, but business is business.

“All right, let’s go back to the beginning,” I said. “What’s the purpose of the ‘natural causes’ requirement with regard to Belghazi, anyway?”

He shrugged. “Well, originally, I was told that it had to look natural because Belghazi has protectors in other intelligence services. But now-”

“Now it seems that the more important objective was to avoid offending protectors in your intelligence service.”

“Yeah, I know. Life at the CIA is funny that way.”

“I told you the right hand and the left aren’t exactly working in perfect harmony with you guys.”

“I didn’t disagree.”

“And now, it seems, the right hand has learned that the left has taken a contract out on Belghazi.”

He nodded. “So it seems.”

“But they haven’t complained to you. They haven’t gone through channels. You’ve suggested they’re afraid to do that.”

“What are you getting at?”

I shrugged. “Maybe you were being overly strict in your interpretation of just how ‘natural’ Belghazi’s demise needed to be. Because, if for whatever reason your people aren’t in a position to complain about the existence of a contract on Belghazi, maybe they’re not in a position to complain if the contract gets carried out.”

He looked away and nodded, rubbing his chin.

I said, “I mean, the point of the ‘natural’ requirement is to avoid blame, right? Plausible deniability, that kind of thing?”

“What you and I agreed on involved a bit more than just plausible deniability,” he said, shaking his head. “More like, Belghazi’s death would happen in such a way that uncomfortable questions would never even get asked. There would be nothing to have to deny.”

“Sure. But we’ve learned a few things since we had that conversation, haven’t we? For example, we’ve learned that Belghazi seems to be in Hong Kong to oversee one of his arms transfers. You’ve got multiple parties involved-buyer, seller, middleman, bought-off port official, CIA overseer-and a lot of money changing hands.”

He looked at me, and his mouth started to turn up into a smile. “Yes, that’s true. A lot of players, a lot of money.”

“Lots of potential for… complications.”

His smile broadened. “And people to get greedy.”

“Right,” I said. “What does a bodyguard make a year? Not much, I’ll tell you that. And he’s spending all that time with Belghazi, securing Belghazi’s hotel suites and then returning to his own tiny room, it’s like watching Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous from the inside of a slum. He gets resentful, he gets jealous. He gets-”

“He gets greedy. And meanwhile he’s learning Belghazi’s plans-who he’s meeting with, where and when.”

“Maybe even… how much?” I said, raising my eyebrows slightly.

He nodded. “Yeah, he might learn that, too.”

“He’s the bodyguard, he accompanies Belghazi everywhere, including on those trips to Kwai Chung Container Terminal Nine. As the money is changing hands-”

“He shoots Belghazi, maybe a few other people, grabs the cash, hightails it.”

“See? You can’t trust anyone these days, not even your own bodyguards. And the way it goes down, both the bodyguard and the money are missing. It’s obvious what happened and who did it. No uncomfortable questions for anyone else.”

“What happens to the bodyguard?”

I shrugged. “I doubt he would be found afterward. I would expect him to just… disappear.”

“And the money?”

I smiled. “I doubt that would get found, either.”

He shook his head. “You’re a devious bastard.”

“Thank you.”

“I don’t think I meant it as a compliment.”

“So? It goes down the way I just described, that’s natural enough for our purposes?”

There was a pause, then he said, “It’s not what we agreed on.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, finding myself a little tired of his “this is a difficult concession” reflex.

“We didn’t agree on my getting ratted out by your own people, either,” I said, feeling like a rug merchant. “Under the circumstances, I ought to charge you double the original price. In fact, I think I will.”

“Okay, I see your point.”

“All right, then? What I’ve proposed, it’s natural enough?”

He paused for a moment, then nodded. “It’s natural enough.”

I STILL HAD my doubts about Dox, about his role in this. About who the NOC was. But I knew I couldn’t do Belghazi alone anymore. Delilah had been right about that. To make this work, I needed help, and I didn’t have anyone else to turn to. And I couldn’t just walk away, either. Belghazi had too much incentive to stay after me until he was sure I was gone for good.

And keeping Dox close would give me an opportunity to test him, maybe answer my questions indirectly. If I saw something I didn’t like, I could always abort, reevaluate, come up with a new plan.

I called him on his cell phone. “Hello,” he said, and it felt strangely good to hear his booming voice. He’s all right , I told myself, and maybe he was.

“Are you still around?” I asked.

There was a pause, during which I imagined him grinning. I heard him say, “Depends on what you mean by ‘around.’ I’m in the area again, if that’s what you mean.”

“How soon can you be back in the same place we met last time?”

Another pause. “I can be there tomorrow, if you need me.”

“I do. Same time as last time?”

“I’ll see you then.”

I hung up and, out of habit, wiped down the phone. Then I went to an Internet café for a bit of research on Hong Kong container shipping.

THE NEXT MORNING I caught a plane to Hong Kong. I sat in a coffee shop overlooking the restaurant where Dox and I had last eaten. He showed up an hour later, alone. I waited ten minutes, then went to join him.

“I didn’t expect to see you again so soon,” he told me, as I sat down.

“I missed you,” I said.

He laughed. “You take care of our friend Mr. Crawley?”

I looked at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He laughed again. “All right, all right, I was just asking. May he rest in peace.”

A waitress came over. “You know what you want?” I asked him.

“Can you get me some more of that caterpillar soup?”

“Glad you’ve developed a taste for it.”

“Well, the taste is all right, sure. But it’s the effects I really admire. Last time we ate here, that night, I showed two Thai ladies what love with Dox is all about. By the time the sun came up they were practically begging for mercy.”

“I’m sure they were.”

I ordered the food and looked at him. “How are your sniping skills?” I asked.

He scowled as though offended. “Shoot, partner, now you’ve gone and hurt my feelings, asking a question like that. You know marine snipers are the best in the world.”

“What I mean is, you’ve been staying in shape?”

He smiled. “Well, let’s just say that our friends at Christians In Action didn’t hire me exclusively for my charm, considerable though it is.”

“Do you have access to a rifle?”

“ ‘Access’? Last job I did, I wanted to try out the new M-40A3. I had one waiting for me the next day, with a matching ANPVS-10 night scope, no questions asked.”