Hard Rain

words deformed by his
    injuries. Inside.
    "Where's your other man?"
    He groaned and tried to reach for his face. I shoved the baton up into
    his neck. He grimaced and lowered his arms.
    "Where's your other man?" I asked again.
    He sucked and wheezed. "Otnote da." In front.
    Made sense. That's the coverage I would have used.
    I brought the baton down and jabbed its tip into his solar plexus. He
    doubled over with a grunt. I stepped behind him, brought the baton
    across his windpipe, and jammed a knee into his spine. I arched back,
    pulling him backward with the baton and pushing forward with my knee.
    His hands flew to the steel to relieve the pressure but it was already
    too late. His larynx was crushed. He struggled silently for another
    half-minute and then sagged back into me.
    I eased him down to the ground and looked around. All quiet. I pulled
    off his cap and coat and slipped them on. I hunted around on the
    ground for the shades there they were. I pulled them on, too.
    I dragged the body as deeply as I could into the shadows, then picked
    up his still-lit cigarette and stuck it in my mouth. I slammed the
    baton onto the pavement to close it, slipped it in one of the coat
    pockets, and palmed the pepper spray.
    Unlike the back of the building, the front offered no perpendicular
    streets and thus fewer vantage points. There was really only one good
    spot there, I knew: the alley alongside the building directly across
    the street.
    I walked around to the front of the building, the shades and hat on,
    the cigarette burning. I kept my head down and my eyes forward, the
    same posture these guys would have been using to avoid witnesses and
    cameras.
    I saw him across the street as soon as I rounded the corner. He was
    dressed like his recently deceased partner. I made my way directly to
    his position, moving fast, confidently. The shades we were wearing
    were great for light disguise, but were hell on night vision. He
    thought I was his partner. He stepped out of the shadows as though to
    greet me, perhaps unsure of why I had abandoned my post.
    When I was three meters away I saw him purse his lips in confusion. At
    two meters his jaw started to drop open as he realized something was
    definitely wrong. At one meter all his questions were answered with a
    mouthful of pepper spray.
    His hands flew to his face and he staggered backward. I spat out the
    cigarette, dropped the canister into a jacket pocket, and withdrew the
    baton. I snapped it open, stepped behind him, and whipped it across
    his windpipe the way I had done to his buddy, this time with a stronger
    cross grip that crushed the carotids along with the larynx. His
    fingers clawed at the metal and his feet scrabbled for purchase for a
    few seconds as I dragged him back into the alley, but by the time we
    had reached the shadows he was dead. I patted him down and found
    another knife and another cell phone. I left the knife. The cell
    phone I took.
    I collapsed and pocketed the baton and made my way to the end of the
    street, where I found a pay phone. I didn't know if Naomi had caller
    ID and didn't want to take a chance on trying her from one of the cell
    phones I had just acquired.
    I called her. She picked up on the third ring, her voice a little
    uncertain. "Hello?"
    "Hey, it's me."
    A pause. "Where are you?"
    "I'm not going to be able to make it tonight. I'm sorry."
    Another pause. "That's okay. It's fine." She sounded relieved.
    "I just wanted to let you know. I'll be in touch soon, okay?"
    "Okay."
    I hung up and returned to the back of her building. I eased into the
    shadows next to the body I had left there.
    One of the cell phones I was carrying started to vibrate. I pulled it
    out and opened it.
    "Hat," I said.
    I heard Murakami's signature growl and felt adrenaline dump into my
    system. "He's not coming tonight," he said. "I'll be down in a
    minute. Call Yagi-san and be ready to move."
    I guessed Yagi was one of the guys I'd taken out. "Mai," I said.
    He clicked off.
    I dropped the cell phone back in the coat pocket. I took out the baton
    and kept it retracted in my right hand. I held the pepper spray in my
    left. My heart was thudding steadily in my chest. I took in a deep
    breath through my nose, held it, and let it out.
    The back entrance was the less obvious, less trafficked choice. Also,
    it lacked a security camera. I knew he'd come out there, just like I
    had.
    I stayed at the edge of the diffused light from a nearby streetlamp,
    where