"Killing Rain aka One Last Kill" - читать интересную книгу автора (Eisler Barry)

TEN

I WOKE UP EARLY the next morning. Delilah was still sleeping. I got out of bed and padded silently over to the living area, sliding shut the teak doors that divided it from the sleeping area behind me. I picked up my cell phone and inserted one of the spare SIM cards I had purchased in Bangkok, effectively giving the phone a new identity. Then I went into the toilet stall, closed the door behind me, and turned the unit on. I needed to make two calls, and for the moment I wanted to keep them private. Ordinarily I prefer not to use a cell phone from a fixed location, but with the new SIM card the unit would be sterile. And the conversations would be brief.

First Tatsu, my old friend and nemesis at the Keisatsu-cho, the Japanese FBI. Tatsu owed me a lifetime of favors for having taken out Murakami, a yakuza assassin he’d wanted dealt with extrajudicially, and it was time for me to call one of those favors in.

His cell rang only once. Then I heard his voice. Never one to waste words or even syllables, he said only, “Hai.”

“Hello, old friend,” I said in Japanese.

There was a pause, and I imagined a rare smile. “Hello,” he said. “It’s been a while.”

“Too long.”

“Are you in town?”

“No.”

“Then you are calling for information.”

“Yes.”

“What do you need?”

“Four days ago there was a shootout in a Manila shopping mall. I want to know everything you can tell me about the men who died there.”

Tatsu would be wondering whether I’d been involved, but he knew there would be no point in asking. “All right,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“Everything is good?” he asked.

“The usual.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

I chuckled. “Thank you, my friend.”

“Call me if you’re ever in town. We can make small talk.”

I smiled. Tatsu was congenitally incapable of small talk, something I used to rib him over.

“We’ll do that,” I said.

“Jaa.” Well then.

“Jaa.” I hung up.

The next call, I knew, would be more problematic. Higher risk, but also higher reward.

I punched in the number and waited while the call went through. I told myself that, if the men in Manila really had been CIA, I was in a world of shit anyway and the call couldn’t do much to worsen my position. If they weren’t, though, a call to the CIA itself would be my best chance of finding out.

This time, too, the phone was answered promptly with a curt “Hai.” I smiled, wondering briefly whether Tatsu was mentoring this young man. I suspected he was.

Tomohisa Kanezaki was a third-generation Japanese American and rising star at CIA Tokyo Station. We had found ourselves involved in several of the same off-the-books projects over the last couple years, and, as was the case with Tatsu, we had managed to work out what seemed to be a mutually beneficial modus vivendi. It was time to test the limits of that ambiguous relationship.

“Hey,” I said to him in English, knowing he would recognize the greeting and my voice.

There was a pause, then he said in English, “I’ve been wondering when you would get in touch.”

“Here I am.”

“Looking for work?”

“Have you got any?”

“Not like we did. The post-nine-eleven urgency is beginning to fade. For a while there, we were really in a take-no-prisoners mindset, but that’s going now. Shit, if we were the Department of Wildlife and Fisheries, we’d call what we’ve got now a ‘catch and release’ program.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“I’m sorry to say it.”

“I’m not looking for work anyway.”

“No?”

“No. I’m staying out of that business. It’s too dangerous.”

He laughed.

“I need a favor,” I said.

“Sure.”

“I heard there was a shooting recently. In a Manila shopping mall.”

There was a pause, then he said, “I heard the same thing.”

Shit. I couldn’t imagine he would have heard about the shooting if the CIA weren’t in some way involved. Maybe I shouldn’t have called him. Well, too late now.

“You know anything about the deceased?” I asked. “I heard they were company men.”

There was another pause. Then: “They were ex-company.”

Ex-company. Interesting.

“You know what they were doing there?” I asked.

“I don’t.”

“I think I might know something. If I tell you, can you see what you can find out?”

“I’ll do what I can.”

Not exactly a binding promise, but I’d take what I could get.

“They were there for a meeting with a guy named Manheim Lavi. Israeli national, resident of South Africa. Check your files, you’ll find out who he is.”

There was a pause. “How do you know this?” he asked.

It was only reflex. He knew I wouldn’t answer.

“Check your files,” I said again.

“I know who Manny is.”

I should have realized. When we were last in touch, Kanezaki had been responsible for a number of antiterrorism initiatives in Southeast Asia. If he knew his brief, and of course he did, Manny would be very much on his radar screen.

“All right. Any ideas about why some ex-company guys would be meeting with him in Manila?”

“All I know is that they were named Calver and Gibbons. They retired from the Agency two years ago. They were with NE Division-the Middle East. I didn’t know them while they were here, but enough people did to make their deaths pretty big news. Everybody’s talking about it.”

“If you can find out more, I’d like to know. Who they reported to when they were with the government, what they were up to lately. That kind of thing.”

There was a pause. “Tell me you weren’t involved in this,” he said.

“I told you, I’m not doing this stuff anymore.”

“Yeah? What are you doing instead?”

“I’m thinking about the greeting card industry.”

“That’s funny. You going to wear a shoe phone?”

I smiled. “Anything you can tell me, I’d be grateful.”

“You know where to look,” he said. Meaning the bulletin board.

“Thanks.”

“And don’t forget. This isn’t a one-way street. I’m taking a lot of chances here. I expect good information in return.”

“Of course.” I clicked off and shut the unit down.

I pulled on a pair of shorts and did my daily two hundred and fifty Hindu push-ups, five hundred Hindu squats, several minutes of neck bridges, front and back, and a variety of other bodyweight calisthenics and stretches. What you can get done with nothing more than a floor, your bodyweight, and gravity in thirty minutes of nonstop activity would put the fitness equipment industry out of business if people caught on.

When I was done, I got in the shower. I lathered up to shave and winced when I touched my cheek. I checked in the mirrored surface of the shower door and saw that my cheek was bruised. Then I noticed that my forearms were black and blue, too. Damn, I was lucky that bag hadn’t been filled with something heavier. And that I’d turned my face away from her head butt in time.

Delilah joined me just as I finished shaving. She looked at my cheek and said, “Ouch.”

I looked at her. “Don’t worry, I accept your apology.”

She gave me an odd look-half smile, half glare. “You deserved it,” she said. “And then some.”

I decided to respond to the smile, not the glare. I put my arms around her and pulled her close.

Some time passed before I got to finish showering. This time was slower, and a lot more tender. Thank God.

Afterward, Delilah stayed in the shower. I changed into jeans and an olive polo shirt and packed my bags.

I sat on the couch and waited for her. When she was done, she walked out into the suite naked. No makeup, wet hair. She looked great. I wished I could have had more time with her. Well, maybe there would be another chance. If we were lucky.

She pulled on a pair of navy silk shorts and a cream linen blouse. She sat next to me and brushed some wet hair back from her face.

“I’ve got some preliminary information,” I told her.

She raised her eyebrows, and I went on. “I have a contact at the Agency. According to him, those men weren’t active duty. They were retired.”

She frowned. “What did you expect? You called the CIA, and your questions confirmed your guilt. Your contact reacted by lulling you, telling you there’s less to worry about than you first thought. That’s exactly what you would expect him to say.”

She had a devious mind. Probably she thought I was telling her this so she would feed it to Gil and company, maybe get them to rethink. She was discounting the information accordingly.

I shook my head. “I’ve known this guy for a while. I don’t think he would play it that way.”

“Let’s hope not.”

“Check on your end. We’ll see if we can resolve the apparent discrepancy. If we can find proof, or something like proof, maybe your people will get them to change their assessment before things turn really ugly.”

She nodded slowly as though considering, then said, “I meant to tell you-I saw a big man, sandy-colored hair, outside the arrivals area in Bangkok and then again after dinner here. Did you notice him?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head automatically as though it was no big deal and probably just a coincidence. Damn, she’d caught me by surprise there.

She nodded. “I thought it was odd that he was at the airport in Bangkok at the same time we were, and then here afterward, but that he wasn’t on our flight.”

“Maybe he was waiting for someone and they caught a later flight.”

She looked at me. “I’m surprised I spotted an incongruity and you didn’t. I know you’re attuned to the environment.”

Fuck. I knew she had me. Still, I struggled for a moment longer. I said, “I guess I’m not as sharp as I used to be.” Given the less than adroit way I had just handled her probe, my words rang worryingly true.

“If you didn’t know him and you hadn’t noticed, I would have expected you to be more alarmed to learn of his presence,” she said, relentless.

I didn’t say anything. Dox was blown. There was nothing I could do.

“Who is he?” she asked.

I sighed. “My partner.”

She nodded as though she had already known, as indeed she had. “He was with you in Manila?”

I shrugged. There was nothing to say.

“You might as well call him, then. We should talk.”

I realized I had never been with Dox in front of civilized company. The prospect made me uncomfortable.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said.

But she misunderstood my reticence. “It would be more efficient for us to put our heads together.”

For the second time in as many days, I thought, Nothing good can come of this.

And for the second time I found myself saying, “All right.”

I took out my cell phone and called him. He answered immediately. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“Peachy,” I said, the code word to tell him that everything was indeed okay, that I wasn’t under duress. “But my friend noticed you at the airport, and again here. She’d like to meet you.”

“Oh man, how did she notice me? You must have told her.”

“I didn’t. She just noticed you.”

“How? Damn, this is embarrassing.”

I looked at Delilah. She was smiling slightly, enjoying what she must have been making of the other side of the conversation.

“I told you, she’s good,” I said.

“Yeah, apparently so. You going to give me a hard time about this?”

“God, yes.”

There was a pause. “All right. I reckon I’ve got that coming. But not in front of her, okay? This is embarrassing enough.”

“All right.”

“Promise me.”

Christ. “I promise.”

“Okay, where do you want to do this?” The tone was of a little boy resigned to a spanking.

“I think my room would be best. No sense the three of us being seen together.”

He sighed. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

I clicked off. Delilah asked, “Was he upset?”

I shrugged. “Embarrassed.”

She smiled. “I would be, too.”

“I promised him I wouldn’t be hard on him in front of you.”

Her smile broadened. “That’s what you were promising?”

I nodded and added innocently, “But that was only me. You didn’t promise anything.”

She chuckled and said, “There’s a streak of cruelty in you, I see.”

I looked at her.“How did you make him? Really.”

“I told you, the incongruities. But also… he’s a big man, but when you look at him, it’s almost like he’s not there.”

I nodded. I saw no sense in telling her about his sniping background. I said, “He’s like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Most of the time he’s as loud and obnoxious as an ambulance siren. But when he goes dark, he can damn near disappear.”

“That’s what tipped me. I didn’t notice him, but then I noticed that I didn’t notice, you know what I mean? I took a second look, and realized how big he is. That’s what told me he was a pro. It’s not easy for a big man to make himself fade away like that. Even for a small one, it’s rare.”

There was a knock at the door. I walked over, stood to the side, and leaned over to glance through the peephole. It was Dox.

I opened the door. He nearly blotted out the sun behind him. I turned and waved him inside.

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.”