Barry Eisler - Rain Storm aka Choke Point

“Probably, but not definitely. Belghazi could call en route. His contact could be waiting for him with the gate open. In which case he drives right through. Plus, once the car turns in, you’re looking at the vehicle’s rear. If you start shooting but don’t hit the driver, he’ll floor it, blow through the gate, and we’ll lose them.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Well, there’s the approach along Cheung Fi. That’s a quarter mile, so I’d have, say, fifteen seconds to take out the driver there. The problem is-”

“How are you going to know you’ve got the right car.”

“Yeah, I’d hate to take out the pizza delivery man, I really would.”

“So what we need to do is, I’m the spotter, positioned on the slope above Cheung Fi, but close to the road. I’ve got binoculars, I see the car coming. There won’t be much traffic at that hour, and I guarantee you Belghazi will be arriving in something stylish, whether or not it’s armored. It shouldn’t be hard for me to confirm that it’s him.”

“What if the glass is smoked?”

“It might be, I know. But if I see a car like that heading toward Terminal Nine at oh two hundred on the same day Kanezaki tells us Belghazi is on his way, I’ll be confident enough to take out the tires, and maybe the windows, and see what happens next. Also, it’s possible they’ll stop outside the gate, maybe roll down a window. In which case, even if I can’t see what I need to, I might get to hear it. I’m going to ask Kanezaki to send a parabolic mike, compatible with the rest of the communications gear I want-earpieces and lapel mikes.”

“I never used one of those parabolics,” he said. “They really work?”

I nodded. “A good one will bring in conversation from three hundred yards out. The new ones fold up small, too. I’ll be able to talk to you on one channel, then switch over and listen in on whoever arrives, then switch back.”

“All right, so either visual or auditory or both, now you’ve got positive ID.”

“Now I let you know, from my lapel mike straight to your earpiece.”

“At which point-”

“At which point, you take your first clear shot. Any place between where I confirm that the target has arrived and the entry gate. In fact, earlier would be better. If this goes down right in front of the entry gate, we might have terminal security personnel to deal with, too. I don’t want to take out bystanders, and the fewer witnesses, the better, anyway.”

“Makes sense. I start with the driver, then just work my way through.”

“Right. Count on a total of at least three-Belghazi, one bodyguard driving, one bodyguard passenger-but maybe more. And while you’re shooting from up high, I’ll be assaulting on foot with a sidearm. Anyone you’ve missed, I take out at close range.”

He grinned. “Partner, marine snipers don’t miss. By the time you reach the vehicle, all that’ll be left is for you to reach through the shattered glass and retrieve a bag stuffed with cash, all right?”

And all that’ll be left for you to do is take one last shot , I thought. Then the cash will be all yours and you can walk away clean .

I needed to find that opportunity to test him before the main event. I hadn’t managed it yet.

I nodded and said, “Sounds like a plan.”

OUR GEAR ARRIVED the next day. We had contacted Kanezaki independently with our requests for matériel, some of which was for commo gear and all of which was bound for Hong Kong, and he must have suspected that we were working together. But if he had any questions, he didn’t ask. The Agency had moved it all through the diplomatic pouch and had left it in a golf bag at a prearranged dead drop. I had to admit, they could move fast when they wanted to.

Dox had asked for a Heckler & Koch PSG/1, semiautomatic, with a twenty-round magazine, tripod, 6x42mm illuminated mil-dot reticle scope, and integral suppressor. In the same package was a 7.62mm Tokarev for me. Unless Dox had to switch to armor-piercing ammunition, we would both be using frangible rounds, with relatively low penetration power but devastating results at the range from which we would be working.

Dox had been as excited as a kid with a new toy. He took the rifle over to the deserted south side of Hong Kong to take it through its paces. I joined him with the Tokarev and the commo gear. Everything was working fine. I was careful not to give him the opportunity to get downrange of me with the rifle. I still didn’t trust him.

I was checking the bulletin board every hour, but no word from Kanezaki. Not the first day. Not the second.

On the evening of the second day, there was a message waiting for me: “He’s on the way. Call me!”

I wondered if he’d thought to try Dox’s cell phone first. Maybe I’d been wrong, and he hadn’t figured out that this had become a joint operation.

I called him. He picked up immediately. “ Moshi moshi ,” he said,

“It’s me.”

“You got the message.”

“Of course.”

“ ‘Of course.’ How was I supposed to know, if you didn’t call to confirm? I wish you would just use a damn cell phone. I really do.”

“Do we have to have this conversation again?”

There was a pause, and I wondered whether he was smiling. “No, we don’t,” he said.

“I’ll call you when it’s done.”

There was another pause, then he said, “ Ki o nuku na yo .” Be careful.

I smiled. “ Arigatou .” I hung up.

I picked up Dox and we drove to Kwai Chung. We parked the van in the parking lot of a nearby residential high-rise, reachable on foot from the hills overlooking the terminal entry gate. Each of us had a key to the van. If something went awry and only one of us made it back to the van, he’d still be able to drive away. We reviewed our plans one last time and separated to take up our positions. Dox was about thirty meters south of the gate, about a hundred and fifty meters distant and at maybe seventy meters elevation. I was thirty meters north, and much closer to the road. Dox would be doing the distance work; I would do the spotting, then follow up at close range. I was lying in a concrete-lined drainage culvert, which would provide cover from Dox’s position in case I’d been wrong about him. But this was still dangerous. He was a sniper, more than capable of stealthily achieving a new position.

At a little after two o’clock, I saw a dark sedan coming down Cheung Fi road. I raised the binoculars-a gorgeous, mechanically stabilized Zeiss 20x60 unit with antireflective lenses-and looked through them. The approaching car was a Lexus LS 430. Two Caucasians in front. The back looked empty, but the car’s interior was too dark to be sure.

I had been half-expecting to see Delilah in the car, although I knew the possibility was remote. She might not even know this meeting was going down tonight. And her role, as I understood it, was such that Belghazi would want to keep her separate from his business transactions. Most of all, I knew she was too specialized and valuable an operator to risk in an operation like a straightforward terrorist takedown.

“That him?” I heard Dox’s voice clearly through the earpiece.

“I’m not sure yet,” I said. “Too much glare on the windows from the streetlights, not enough light in the car. Hold on.”

The car continued past my position. The driver-side backseat was empty. I couldn’t be sure about the passenger side.

“Still no ID,” I said. “Hold on.”

The car pulled into the turnaround in front of the entrance, swung around so that it was facing the street, then backed up to within a couple of meters of the gate. The engine cut out. I watched through the binoculars, trying to imagine what this was, to understand why they weren’t going inside.