Killing Rain

closet, strode noiselessly over to the second stall, eased its door closed, and got back in the closet. The floor-to-ceiling mahogany stall door would obscure the question of whether someone was actually in there, and, if the guard poked his head in, he would now likely assume Manny was using one of the stalls. I doubted he’d want to disturb his client at such a delicate moment by calling out, but his reticence would last only so long. I might have bought myself a minute or two, but the clock was still ticking.
    And then I had an idea.

TWENTY-ONE

    D ELILAH , ” I whispered.
    She answered instantly. “I’m here.”
    “Manny’s done. But there’s a bodyguard standing outside the bathroom. I can’t get past him. In another couple of minutes, he’s going to come in and check on Manny. There’s also someone using one of the stalls and I need to buy another couple minutes so he can finish and get the hell out.”
    “Tell me what to do,” she said.
    “Dox, do you still have that syringe we took off Winters?”
    “Got it right here, partner,” he said.
    “Give it to Delilah. Delilah, you won’t have any trouble getting close to the guard. Make it look like you’re about to head into the wrong restroom. Then flirt with him, distract him untilthe guy in the stall leaves. When he does, you nail the guard with the syringe.”
    “What’s in it?” she asked.
    “Dox, give her the syringe. I’ll explain on the way.”
    “Already did, partner. She’s getting up now.”
    “It’s a knockout cocktail. All you have to do is palm it and slap him with it. It works like a snakebite.”
    “That’s ‘all’ I have to do? Don’t I have to hit a vein or an artery?”
    “If we want the drug to work fast, you do.”
    “Veins and arteries tend to be pretty small moving targets.”
    “Look, just flirt with the guy, okay? Get him so his back is facing the bathroom door. I’ll hit him in the head with whatever I can find in here. But he’s a gorilla, I don’t know if a shot to the head will be enough. Although it should stun him for long enough for you to slap the syringe down on his carotid. If you miss, I’ll figure something else out.”
    “All right.”
    “He’s probably armed, a shoulder or hip carry. Whatever else happens, we have to disarm him. That’s our best chance with the other two.”
    “Okay.”
    I clicked on the Surefire and looked around the closet. None of the tools I saw would be helpful. No hammer, no wrench. For a second, I thought of the knife, then rejected it because of the mess it would make. All right, I would have to use my hands. I started to put the Surefire back in my pocket, then looked at it. Shit, I had almost overlooked something so obvious. I had been thinking of it only as a flashlight, when in fact, gripped tightly in my fist with the hard edge slightly protruding, it would make a serviceable yarawa stick.
    I heard the toilet flush, and a moment later the Chinese man emerged from the stall.

    I heard Delilah say, “Here we go.” Then, in a tipsy, slightly flirtatious tone, “Excuse me, isn’t that the ladies’ room?”
    Her lapel mike picked up the guard saying, “No, miss, this is the men’s room.” She must have been standing close.
    “Oh my God, I would have felt so silly if I’d walked in there! You don’t know where the ladies’ room is, do you?”
    “I think it’s just around the corner.”
    The Chinese guy walked over to the sinks and started examining the various choices among the soaps and lotions.
    Can you just wash your hands and get the fuck out? I thought. Better yet, don’t wash them at all. I promise not to tell anyone.
    Delilah said, “Are you the doorman or something?”
    The man chuckled. Good, she was reeling him in. “No, I’m just waiting for someone.”
    The Chinese guy selected one of the soaps and began thoroughly washing his hands. He was taking so long that I was half-tempted to pop out of the closet, break his neck, and drag him inside.
    He turned off the sink, picked up one of the towels, and began leisurely drying his hands.
    “Oh, you’re here with someone, then,” Delilah said. “Too bad.”
    The guard said, “Too bad?”
    “Well,” she said, “my date is being a jerk, and . . .” She laughed. “I’m sorry, I think I’ve had too much to drink. I’m not usually like this.”
    The guard said, “No, that’s all right. I don’t mind at all.”
    The Chinese guy kept rubbing away with the towel.
    Come on, buddy,