Killing Rain

carries things out. That’s the way it is. We’re just doing what we’re supposed to.”
    “That’s an interesting way to look at it,” I said, feeling uneasy.
    “It’s the only way. I didn’t know you were such a philosopher, partner. In fact, I think this is the most I’ve ever heard you talk.”
    “Sorry.”
    “No need to apologize. But I do think that pondering too deeply might not be highly recommended for men such as ourselves. We might start thinking we’re the judges or something, and where would we be then?”
    The waiter brought the mango and sticky rice. It was good, but my mind was elsewhere.
    Dox asked, “Well, what’s the next step? With Manny, I mean.”
    I considered. “We can’t get close to him again the way we did. He got too good a look at me, for one thing, and I think we can expect him to be taking extra precautions, for another.”
    “Yeah, I’m thinking the same thing.”
    “We need a new variable, something to shake things up. And the only one I see coming our way is information from Boaz and Gil. If they can find out the affiliations of the two guys we took out in that restroom, we might have something to go on. Otherwise I think the op is dead.”
    “So nothing to do but wait and see what the Israelites can offer.”

    “That’s right.”
    He leaned back in his chair and grinned. “Well, in my not inconsiderable experience, there’s nowhere in the world better to wait around than here in Bangkok.”
    I sighed, feeling like a parent about to remonstrate with a teenager. “We still have work to do. You’re not going to be useful drained of all bodily fluids and nursing a binge hangover.”
    He laughed. “Yes, Mom.”
    “Look, just be available in case I get a call and we need to move quickly.”
    He nodded, then said, “Tell you what. Best way for me to be available is for us to stick together. Why don’t you come out with me tonight?”
    “No, I think . . .”
    “C’mon, man, when was the last time you got yourself properly laid? Or even laid at all.”
    I shook my head. “A night out with the prostitutes isn’t really my thing.”
    “Who said anything about prostitutes? The local girls will be throwing themselves at you when they see you with a handsome stranger like me. And by the way, I think you’re avoiding my question.”
    I thought of Delilah, but said nothing.
    “C’mon, man, we can get you some of that black market Viagra.”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “Hey, with a double dose, you’ll do fine. Plus, you’ve still got a quart of my blood sloshing around in you. That ought to be a help.”
    He was reminding me of the transfusion he’d given me after I’d nearly bled out at Kwai Chung.
    “I mean I don’t think I’m in the mood for One Night in Bangkok,” I said.
    “What, are you worried you might have fun? Tell you what, ifI see you laugh and have a good time, I promise not to tell anyone. I know you’ve got your reputation to protect.”
    I thought about it. Maybe I would take a long walk through some of the city’s less-traveled boulevards. I could pass by some of the places where I had once caroused with other teenagers hardened by war, who were yet, in retrospect, still astonishingly innocent, and observe these relics to see how my memories animated or distorted them as they might exist in Bangkok today. But as I considered these possibilities, I was surprised to find I didn’t really want to be alone.
    “All right!” Dox said, taking my hesitation as a yes. “We can get dinner, hit a few bars, talk to the ladies, who knows. Hey, you like jazz, right? I know a new place on Silom that’ll be right up your alley. I tend to favor the discos myself, but I know you’re a man of sophisticated tastes and I’m willing to indulge you.”
    I nodded in capitulation. “All right.”
    The grin got wider. “You made the right decision, Mr. Rain, and I promise you won’t regret it. You checked into the hotel yet?”
    We were staying at the Sukhothai, which offered the right combination of high class and low visibility. Something like the Oriental had plenty of the first but none of the second; innumerable Bangkok hotels would have offered the opposite combination. But the Sukhothai had been built for both beauty and discretion. The property, with its acres of flower gardens and lotus ponds; its long, symmetrical lines and soft lighting; and its traditional accents of Thai architecture and art was certainly a triumph of form. But